lucian-

i'm writing this letter not because i think i will die, i have no intentions of letting cancer get the best of me. not yet, at least. but i wanted you to have this in case something happens to me and i never get it out there. you're the only person i'd trust with such vital information.

i don't want anyone wearing black to my funeral. and i don't want that fucking funeral dirge playing. you can pick out something fun, something that'll make people smile. if i'm fragile and thin, broken and weak i want it closed casket. i'd prefer people to remember me how i was not what i am when i die. invite who you see fit, not like i have family to worry about. however, if you could get a hold of elliotte, i'd appreciate that.

with all that out of the way, i wanted to thank you. you have given me something to wake up to every morning and think about before i got to sleep. i like your hair, cinderalla soot, and i like your dog. i like the way you murmur in your sleep and the way you smile at me. i like when you talk to me thinking i'm asleep and the way you're fun to get tangled in. i like the tea you bring me, and how you always smell good when you get off work. i like your clothes, more so on me, than you. i like the way you hug me, i like the way you kiss me. i like like that moshe likes you, and the way you come looking for me when i call drunk on my birthday. the list goes on and on and on, but those are the first things that came to my mind.

so thank you for that, lucian. thank you for letting me love you. because god do i love you.

"hey constance, how's it goin'?" the drug-addled street brat asked from behind a poster matted door.

"same shit, different day."

"cool, cool."

"how're you, judas? how's addy?" she asked without looking up from the neatly packed vinyl that she fingered through.

"i'm okay. i dunno, i haven't talked to her." he lied through his teeth and busied himself with stocking newly released cds in hopes that constance wouldn't notice.

"how's addy?" she repeated, not needing to look at the boy to know his lies.

"we got into a fight. she has a new boyfriend-- oh wait, i mean fiancee." he lamented, acting out his heart being ripped apart to constance's back.

"fiancee? i didn't think she had a boyfriend."

"yeah, well she did, landon or some shit like that." he groaned, slamming the gnarles barkley cd into his forehead repeatedly.

"is he good to her?"

"yeah, i mean, i think so..."

"than you should be happy for her." she plucked up three different records, clutching them under her arm as she headed for the counter. she dropped them beside the register and fumbled through the pockets of lucian's sweatshirt.

"nice hoodie."

"it's my boyfriend's." she chimed while digging up a few dollar bills.

"you have a boyfriend?"

"i've had one! i talk to josie about him all the time."

"well fuck."

"what?"

he groaned. "i was going to ask you to dinner."

"sorry man, i'm pretty head over heels for this kid." she shrugged, tossing three twenties onto the counter.

"i never pictured you for the love type."

"yeah, fuckin' love just sneaks up on your ass, judas. i swear to god." taking her records, she shuffled toward the door and with a wave tossed back over her shoulder.

"why are wearing a mask?"

"why should it matter?"

"it's odd." the stout father replied with a grunt.

"i'm an odd woman." constance could see by the looks on their faces that neither of them liked odd.

"halloween is coming. dressing up is fun. but to be honest, we aren't here to talk about we. we're here because of michael."

"what about him?"

constance peeled back the mask and settled it on the desk, leaning forward on her forearms. "he's pretentious, he never does his work. and he isn't as good as he thinks he is. he's failing my class."

the parents sat in silence, staring from one another to her. "can he still pass?"

"i'm willing to stay after and show up before school to help him. if he agrees to the extra lessons, i'll pass him. he has to improve or he isn't going to go anywhere." she groaned, leaning back away from the pair.

"are you sure it isn't something you're doing?"

"of course, i'm sure. your son is a brat, end of story. if anyone did anything it was you."

"i told myself i wasn't going to cry," her form of apology to the hairdresser who was trying to work around the shake of her shoulders from silent sobs.

"honey, don't cha worry 'bout it." deep southern twang coming out honey sweet. the snip, snip, snip of scissors were drowned out by the buzz of a razor as it trimmed the last bit of her hair. only a thin layer of what once was remained, leaving her head dark and not completely barren of hair. constance finally looked up, seeing herself for the first time in years without a mess of brown hair. "girl, you look so damn good. shit, i might just have to switch teams just so i can git ta know ya." the hairdresser, elise, was trying her best to keep the fragile woman before her from breaking into hysterics.

fingers fumbled with the green silk scarf, tying it around her head and bunching it at the bottom. "thanks elise." she reluctantly climbed to her feet, arms wrapping around the woman's neck for a hug. "how much do i owe you?"

"nothin' darlin', don't cha worry 'bout it, just work on getting better."

"What is this," she hissed through clenched teeth when eyes dropped to the gutter and the crushed glass mosiac that had been assembled from broken beer bottles and crushed syringes. Constance swallowed the skeleton of stillborn words with a mouthful of cheap vodka and sutured thick lips together in a frown. The wardrum throb of her heart and woodwind of blackened lungs created a brilliant symphony of life with each movement she made. Long legs fell into stride with the ghosts of businessmen who hours before had rushed the sidewalk in a mass exodus of steel castles. The metal skyline heaven was cast a glance; God lived in a penthouse. Sharp-toothed shadows chomped at her heels, urging her to move faster still. Angry arms of darkness dragged her through the spiderweb tangle of city streets, but she was not one with them. Tonight she was a blur of color that streaked across the grim background of the asphalt purgatory. A phoenix amongst the ashes and ruin of an once upon a time life. Constance held no fear of the demons that dwelled just out of sight. Where there was blood in the gutter and sin in the street, she was at home. The inksplashed goddess watched the world through a looking glass, not experiencing only observing the trials and tribulations of others. "It's my turn to be brave," she murmured into the hollow curve of a gloved hand. "It's my turn to survive." Grimeslick lines ran lines down her face into the quarry of her mouth where teeth split the stitch of her lips as they were drawn out wide. The night would be hers, if only for the fleeting hours when the moon queen held firm her reign over the sky. She would lay beside her king and watch him breathe, fingers tripwalking the length of his chest to feel the throb of his heart.

"oh yeah? about what?"

"i died."

veruca sat in silence across from the cellist, drawing her knees up into her chest. she found the words to say but they lost all meaning in the static between her ears, so she sat in silence and waited for a further response.

"but that wasn't the part that upset me. i couldn't remember his face."

"whose face?"

"lucian's."

"oh.."

"what?" constance's brows knit together and her eyes sought out an explanation in her eyes.

"i dunno, it's just-- do you love him?"

"yes."

"why?"

"because he's beautiful."

"what kind of fuckin' medicine do they have you on, pocahontas?"

"y-yeah?" she pryed her scarf from her head, displaying sprouting brown hair that refused to give into the chemotherapy, something the rest of her body had forgotten through the constant influx of drugs.

"are you alright to drive home?" a hand outstretched to gently pat her knee, feeling every jut of bone beneath the paper thin skin. her eyes tracked the intricate design of ink from her wrists to her shoulders and down her chest. she had seen it so many times before but still, she found something new everytime she tried to search. "is that a new tattoo?" her fingers motioned toward the scrawl of black ink over her chest. a name; lucian.

"lucian? heh, yeah. i haven't shown him yet, he'll probably slap me."

"you really love that kid, huh?" her smile was small, but genuine. a woman like constance deserved to be in love, to know how wonderful it was to be alive.

"yeah, i do. i should probably get going, i need to call and tell him." she tugged her shirt over her head and grabbed her bag. "thanks for everything you've done for me, doc."

"i'll talk to you soon, constance." she offered what comfort she could in a squeeze to the woman's shoulder before releasing her.

the willowy cellist cut a path to the door and out the clinic's front doors, carefully craddling her phone between her shoulder and ear as she fumbled through her bags for the keys. the ringing on the other end ceased when she heard lucian's hello.

"what is it like?" jamal warren was one of the students that made working at the inner city school worth it. bright and eager to learn, he excelled on the violin and constance was determined to get him into julliard like he had dreamed of for so long.

"what is what like, jamal?" she peered at him from over her desk, pausing her paper grading to give him her full attention.

"dying?"

his question caught constance off guard and it showed when her jaw went slack and eyes widened slightly. lips cut into a frown, lower lip getting sucked into her mouth and pinned by her top row of teeth. fingers rubbed along the curve of her jaw before opening into a craddle to rest her chin. "well, it's only dying if you give up, jamal. i haven't given up yet, so i don't consider it dying. i'm struggling to survive, but i sure as hell am not dying yet." her frown faded into a small smile, eyes cutting from her student toward the door and back.

"oh."

"why did you wanna know, kiddo?" she dropped her hand and folded it into the other on top of half graded papers. "is everything alright?" worry ran in avenues along sunstained skin, furrowing brows and downturning lips.

"i was just wondering, you've gotten so skinny. you just look so sick. i just wanted to know what it felt like." his shoulders hitched up in a shrug as she draped the strap of his backpack over his shoulder. his violin case was hoisted up and he made no hesitation in heading for the door for a quick exit.

"hey guys," she murmured, reluctantly sitting up to scratch behind the ear of the mutts. "goood morning boys, I'll take you guy for a walk in a..." words trailed off as her fingertips grazed paper beneath her pillow, "minute." carefully she pulled it away from the sandwich between her pillow and the bed.

she thumbed it open and wiped the sleep from her eyes so she could focus. sinking back into the bed, her breath caught in her throat and her vocal chords asphyxiated; constance was silent. a swell of tears ( which she would always blame on her medicine ) dripped at the corners of her eyes only to be smeared away the back of her palm. constance broke into laughter, suddenly enough to startle the dogs, and made no attempt to try and smother her laughter.

"oh god, boys, this is wonderful. so wonderful." the dogs look startled, because it was so rare they saw constance smile and laugh these days. "i'm gonna get dressed and do something with this..." hands waved around her head and the brown hairs sprouting from her skull. "ahaha, maybe i'll wear a barrette. i don't thing my hair is long enough for that shit." and ancient bones did not groan in resistance this morning when constance crawled from her blanket casket. "c'mon, i'm gonna put bows on you guys, make you look dashing."

for the first time in weeks constance was free of sniffling, yelping dogs and found herself at a loss in direction without being tugged at the high end of a leash. she smothered a sigh with the butt of a cigarette, long since neglected by needy lips. lungs burned with black tar but her veins pulsed with some small measure of pleasure over the sudden spur of nicotine. swallowed by the city, constance navigated the spiderweb tangle of side streets and back alleys through the veins in the back of her hand.

constance awoke to the shins bleeding through the speakers in the catalina and the lick of morning breath against the swan's slope of her neck. fingers fanned out across the curve of lucian's jaw, tripwalking down his neck and over the mountain range of his collarbone. sun splintered through the fogged back windshield, keeping the cold at bay. buried beneath layers of clothing from previous camping trips in the middle of nowhere, the winter chill was bearable against exposed skin.

she brushed a kiss to the corner of his lips, body stretching out in a leonine sprawl before sinking into his again. in the early morning hours, when he was still swallowed by street and asphyxiated by dreams, that constance wished she could keep him like this... so peaceful.

"i've never seen you here before," said the priest from the end of the pew while he slid into a sitting position. her eyes cut to their corners, watching him lazily before closing her eyes and returning to her silent prayer. "i didn't mean to interrupt, i apologize, i just try to get to know the parishioners." his voice leaked into her consciousness a moment later as she eased up onto her feet and turned to face him.

"i'm not part of your parish, father," it was a quiet reply as she side shuffled toward the aisle.

"oh, i'm sorry to hear that."

"it's just--" she began before silencing herself abruptly, continuing her shuffle toward the end of the pew's length.

"it's just what?"

"i've never had many reasons to believe in god, father."

"why is that, my de--"

"constance, my name is constance."

"sorry, why is that, constance?"

"a lot of reasons."

the father sat silent for a moment, rubbing the sprouting stubble at the bottom of his chin. his browline distorted briefly and he sunk into thought before waving away the ghosts of advice with a shake of his head. "will you come speak to me about it, sometime? tomorrow i won't be busy for most of the day..."

"i don't know, i feel like a whiner if i say all my reasons."

"i pass no judgement, constance, i just want to better understand your lack of faith."

her shoulders lifted in defeat, shrugging off the burden of hesitation. her head dipped in a nod as she finally slipped passed the priest into the aisle. fingers smoothed down the ruined jeans, trying to make them look somewhat presentable. "how is four?"

"that is fine, i'll be waiting."

"ACK! dogs! stop, don't... do... that..." they managed to squeeze a groan out of constance, who made the mistake of trying to grab moshe's end and getting mistaken as a chewtoy. the dog chopped down on her hand, rather than the book and had constance yelping.

"WHAT THE FUCK, MOSHE!" a banshee shriek as she slapped the dog's jaw to get him to release her hand. moshe and ash cowered beneath the coffee table, while constance disappeared into the bathroom. fumbled with anti-bacterial cream after she washed the hand. luckily, she wasn't in need of stitches, but band-aids weren't enough either. in defeat, constance sat on the toilet and wrapped up her hand, watching blood seep through the white bandage.

constance had picked up a habit with the sudden influx of energy she didn't know what to do with. every morning and every afternoon she would weave through the steel gridlock of the city on her make-shift bicycle. pieced together from parts and scraps of other bicycles, it was a myriad of blues, greens, reds, and purples. she loved it regardless. she'd pedal at top speed through the back alleys and side streets of the city timing each and every ride to try and beat her previous time. seconds passed by in front of her eyes and while others saw plain stretches of asphalt and concrete, constance saw only wheel rotations. "one, two, three." her breathing was levelled, always in time with pumping legs and a throbbing heart. no longer chained by a disease crawling like the plague through her veins, she was free to ride and ride and ride her bike for miles and miles until she crashlanded from her city block orbit in the arms of lucian.

dear lucian,
i read your letter, the one you left beneath my pillow. i've been smiling a lot more because of it. thank you for that. there are so many things that i want to thank you for and i know i'll never have all the time i need. but i want you to know i love you. not like anyone before you, not like anyone after you. you're the one for me, lucian. you're the one i want to be with until i'm six feet under. it's scary to think about that, y'know? i think you're probably more scared than me, it's a man thing. so if you know anything lucian, know that i love you. storybook style.

constance