Dark eyes stared up at a plain, white ceiling while a scrambled mind wondering what would happen if it collapsed right this very second.

“What are you thinking about?” he asked softly, staring straight into those piercing pools of brown.

“Nothing,” she lied as usual.

There wasn’t much that could be said in a situation like that, anyways. When you’re thinking about something so bazaar you don’t want to share your thoughts with anyone. Things sound blander when they’re out in the open. Real thoughts are meant to be kept in the mind—the only place someone can really be themselves.

“My turn,” dropped from her lips as ghostly pale arms reached over for the magic in the boy’s hand.

The girl took a giant swallow, clenching her teeth slightly as the burning poison slithered down her throat and began absorbing into her blood stream.

Mind impairment is a funny thing. Your judgment may be skewed and you may not be as quick on your toes as usual, but you’re still there as a person. This is why thoughts should be kept in the mind and nowhere else. No matter what you do to yourself you will always, deep down, think the things you think and know the things you know.

“You’re only happy when that is in your hands,” he frowned while tracing lines down her arm.

“You mean we’re only happy when that’s in our hands. It’s the only times we know how to talk to one another.”

“That’s not fair.”

“But it’s true.”

Monsters under the bed, skeletons in the closet, devils under the hood—whatever you want to call it everyone has their own. Some have them a little more than others. It doesn’t matter how much you love a person; there is always going to be things you never share with them. That’s just the thing though. Love these days is so conspicuous—or maybe promiscuous is the right word in this situation—that it’s never really there. You can love the damn fuck out of somebody, but deep down the only thing you really think is that one day they’ll be gone and it will all be for nothing.

“I love you, dear,” his words cut like knives. All she knew to do was say it back even though every time it came out of her mouth she wanted to puke. Sometimes she would. They would blame it on the alcohol and continue with the night.

This was all a regular occurrence. A never ending cycle. True love.