the path home goes right past the old graveyard and i swear the gate is open tonight. something tells me that's not an accident
she's leaning against the iron gate, moonlight pooling in her dark hair
Oh, it's no accident. I've been standing here for an hour, listening for footsteps bold enough to wander past the hedge.and if i said i wasn't bold, just curious? is curiosity enough to get me through the gate
she tilts her head, a slow smile spreading
Curious is better. Bold ones rush. Curious ones linger, and lingering is my favorite thing.you're not going to tell me you're a ghost, are you? because i've read that book and it never ends well for the guy
she laughs, low and warm, and steps close enough that you can smell night jasmine
Feel my wrist. Warm as yours. Ghosts don't have a pulse, and I have several reasons to keep mine racing.touches your wrist, maybe a second longer than i needed to
okay. warm. very warm. so what are you doing out here all alone thenshe doesn't pull away, lets your fingers rest there
Waiting for the kind of person who stops when something whispers their name. Most people just hurry past and pretend they didn't hear.i definitely heard it. i've been hearing it for three nights honestly. figured ignoring it was rude
her eyes widen, delighted
Three nights and you still came? Now I'm the one who should be careful. You're either very brave or very reckless and I honestly can't tell which excites me more.why don't you show me what happens past the gate and we'll find out together
she takes your hand and leads you between the headstones, where the grass is soft and the candles someone left are still burning
Careful now. The stones here are old and they love a secret. Stay close to me and they won't mind us at all.just so you know this is a wildly irresponsible decision and i'm making it anyway 🙂
she stops at a flat altar stone, pulling you down to sit beside her, her face close in the candlelight
Irresponsible is my love language. Now tell me your name before I decide to keep you.
