— ~Excerpt from a book I’ll never write #52

“I’m falling around you.” He mumbles against her skin and it doesn’t make much sense but he’s intoxicated on a mixture of alcohol and just her.
It shouldn’t make sense but somehow it does. At the end of the world, if the sun was going to grow the size of the sky, if it was going to burn brighter and hotter than it ever had before, if it was going to reduce everything and anything to dust and ash, everyone will fall. 
And as the image of falling dust, through nothing but space, fills her mind, she guesses he’s right, he’s falling around her.

“Maybe.” She murmurs back, voice choked and thick, eyes spilling over as she runs her fingers delicately through his hair. Maybe she was the sun or maybe it was the other way around, maybe she was falling around him.