A Thousand Boy Kisses(90)

Poppy blinked, blinked again, then her gaze ranged around the room. She swallowed, wincing as she did. Seeing her lips were dry, I reached over and took the glass of water from the side table. I brought the straw to her mouth. Poppy drank a few small sips, then pushed the glass aside.

She sighed in relief. Lifting her favorite cherry lip balm from the table, I smoothed a thin layer on her lips. Poppy slowly rubbed her lips together. Not breaking my gaze, she smiled, a wide, beautiful smile.

Feeling my chest expand with light, I leaned down and pressed my lips against hers. It was brief, barely a kiss, but when I pulled back, Poppy swallowed and whispered hoarsely, “Kiss number…” Her brow furrowed as confusion played on her face.

“Nine hundred and three,” I finished for her.

Poppy nodded. “When I came back to Rune,” she added, holding my gaze and weakly squeezing my hand, “just like I promised I would.”

“Poppy,” I whispered in reply, and lowered my head until I tucked it into the crook of her neck. I wanted to hold her as close as I could, but she felt like a fragile doll: easy to break.

Poppy’s fingers landed in my hair, and in a move as familiar as breathing, they ran through the strands, Poppy’s light breath flowing over my face.

I raised my head and stared down at her. I made sure to drink in every part of her face, her eyes. I made sure to cherish this moment.

The moment when she returned to me.

“How long?” she asked.

I stroked back the hair from her face. “You were under a week. You’ve been waking up gradually for the past few days.”

Poppy’s eyes closed momentarily, then opened again.

“And how long … left?”

I shook my head, proud of her strength, and answered honestly, “I don’t know.”

Poppy nodded her head, the movement barely there. Feeling a warmth on the back of my neck, I turned and looked out the window. I smiled. Facing Poppy again, I said, “You rose with the sun, baby.”

Poppy frowned, until I moved out of the way. When I did, I heard her sharp intake of breath. When I looked at her face, I saw the orange rays kissing her skin. I saw her eyes close, then open again, as a smile pulled on her lips.

“It’s beautiful,” she whispered. I lay on her pillow beside her, watching the sky lighten with the arrival of the new day. Poppy didn’t say anything as we watched the sun rise in the sky, bathing the room in its light and warmth.

Her hand squeezed mine. “I feel weak.”

My stomach fell. “The infection hit you hard. It’s taken its toll.”

Poppy nodded in understanding, and then became lost once more in the morning view. “I’ve missed these,” she said, pointing her finger to the window.

“Do you remember much?”

“No,” she replied softly. “But I know I missed them all the same.” She glanced down to her hand and said, “I remember feeling your hand in mine, though … It’s strange. I don’t remember anything else, but I remember that.”

“Ja?” I asked.

“Yes,” she replied softly. “I think I’d always remember the feel of your hand holding mine.”

Reaching out beside me, I lifted up the photo album my pappa brought, placed it on my lap and opened it. The first photo was of the sun rising through thick clouds. The rays split through the branches of the pine tree leaves, capturing the pink hues perfectly.

“Rune,” Poppy whispered and ran her hand over the print.

“It was the first morning you were here.” I shrugged. “I didn’t want you to miss your sunrise.”

Poppy’s head moved until it rested against my shoulder. I knew then I’d done right. I felt the happiness in her touch. It was better than words.

I flicked through the album. Showed her the trees beginning to flower outside. The raindrops against the window on the day it poured. And the stars in the sky, the full moon, and the birds nesting in the trees.

When I closed the album, Poppy shifted her head back and stared into my eyes. “You captured the moments I’ve missed.”

Feeling my cheeks heat up, I lowered my head. “Of course. I always will.”

Poppy sighed. “Even when I’m not here … You need to capture all these moments.” My stomach rolled. Before I could say anything, she lifted her hand to my cheek. It felt so light. “Promise me,” she said. When I didn’t respond, she insisted, “Promise me, Rune. These pictures are too precious to have never been taken.” She smiled. “Think of what you can capture in the future. Just think of the possibilities that lie ahead.”

“I promise,” I replied quietly. “I promise, Poppymin.”

She exhaled. “Thank you.”

Leaning over, I kissed her cheek. When I pulled back, I rolled to face her on the bed. “I’ve missed you, Poppymin.”

Smiling, she whispered back, “I’ve missed you too.”

“We’ve got a lot to do when you get out of this place,” I told her, watching the excitement flare in her eyes.

“Yes,” she answered. Her lips rubbed together and she asked, “How long until the first bloom?”

My heart tore when I knew what she was thinking. She was trying to assess how much time she had left. And if she would make it. If she would live to see her few remaining wishes come true.