The fan turned lazily on the ceiling of the room, spreading the warm air through the messy bed, while any playlist ran quietly on the cell phone resting on the pillow.
The light was soft. The bunker, in absolute silence.
And there they were.
Lying together, legs intertwined, as if that heat that stuck to the skin was a loop, not a nuisance.
She wore an old T-shirt of his - too wide, with the collar dropped on her shoulder - and hummed the previous song with a light smile on her lips, as if each verse was part of her soul.
“Do you see?” She said, turning her face to him a little. “This is my favorite of this band. It talks about losing someone and still loving in the same way. Sad hottie, you know?”
Dean smiled, with that crooked and familiar way.
“You definitely have a kind of depressing musical taste.”
“And you listen to Bon Jovi with pride.”
“Bon Jovi saves lives.”
She laughed softly, muffling the sound with her hand as if she needed to preserve the intimate silence of the room.
Even if no one else was around.
He lay on his back, closed his eyes for a second - only until he heard the next track start.
The first note was slow.
The voice, dense.
Sad.
”Looking out the door, I see the rain fall upon the funeral mourners...”
He opened his eyes slowly.
She was looking at him.
Serious. Soft.
As if that moment had already been dreamed of before.
“This is Jeff Buckley’s,” she whispered, like someone who delivers a secret. “’Lover, You Should’ve Come Over’.”
Buckley’s voice filled the space between them. Melancholic.
The subtle pain of the song seemed to touch both of them.
Dean turned his face to her.
She had turned her back, showing her bare shoulder - and that’s when he saw it.
There, between skin and shadow, a tattoo written in fine ink:
”My kingdom for a kiss upon her shoulder.”
He leaned on his elbow, touched with his fingertip.
With reverence.
“You have the lyrics... of this tattooed song,” he murmured, almost out of breath.
She didn’t turn around.
He just answered in a low voice:
“It’s my favorite part.”
Dean was silent for a moment.
Then he leaned over and kissed right there.
On the back of the quote.
In the place where she offered the kingdom for a kiss.
She sighed and turned slowly to face him.
Her eyes met his, and there was something serene there. Something that didn’t ask for explanations.
“Now it’s yours too,” she said.
He didn’t answer.
He just looked at her.
The golden skin by the weak light. Slow breathing. The whole world standing there, between the two.
“I don’t understand half of the letters you show me,” he whispered, almost like an apology. “But this... this song made me understand you better.”
She smiled. Shy. Sweet.
He leaned his forehead against his, closing his eyes for a second.
“And I understood you... when I saw you kiss my shoulder as if you had just won the world.”
The music kept playing.
But the silence between them said more.
He didn’t need to say “I love you.”
She had already heard in the kiss.
And tattooed on the skin.