Incandlessence: 'Who we were'

'Who we were'
Incandlessence;

It must have been the end of July. In full content we laid there, fingers entangled, staring up at the patches of plaster missing from his ceiling. Twenty coats of transparent paint on his wall, one for each phase of life, or perhaps one for each year of life. Thought that didn't matter to us; 'The People Who Don't Believe in Time.'
There was no glass in his windows, but he liked that. He enjoyed the dangers of that damned mother nature so readily able to come right on in and the all of the dreadful things she could do to him. As for I, I enjoyed the danger of becoming so incredibly close to him, and the the dangers that came with the opportunities I gave him, and what that might do to me.
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I knew of his condition, as did he know of my state of mind. The King of Flies could never fall in love with The Woman Wilder Then Lions. And although that is an entirely true statement of who we were that night, to each other, we were always someone who had intentions of becoming another, one who is much more worth getting to know. Intentions though, they are such a dirty thing.
That is when I turned to him, "Who are we?" I ask.
Now, if he was any man other them himself he would have either not given me an answer or given me one I would have hated. Luckily, I have always been lucky as has he, until this point, always been the man that is himself.
"You're... you're that really pale dame who cries during the happy parts of films and is always just about to change her mind. As for myself, I am that ghost-boy who should really start showing his face around your town more often."
I smiled, and as every child in his sixties knows, it is a very contagious thing. He leaned in to kiss me, I went in only to turn away. With a sighing sound I smiled. My hand tried to find his within the sheets, but there were no fingers there to meet. Now that is something that all mature young adults tend to forget - disappointment, that is far more contagious then smiling.
"The only difference between she and I, I am your 'love', she is your 'fly'."
In the past, I have said that to him, and he being The King, knew damn well of what I spoke of. Always, I have held the intentions of loving him to a deeper extent. However, I will never dig deeper while he digs someone else.
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"Wanderlust" he whispered, which, to me, was the equilvant of simply bringing up my suitcase filled with 'devious secrets'. I sat up, intending to change the mood to something much more serious.
"You know, one day, I will really be gone... And as every good woman knows, she must have left long before anyone knows she holds intentions of even ever leaving."
This is when his characteristic sadness came into play, it was a lot like a 'Melancholy Monday'. That is, if everyday had to be Monday and there was never any hope for a 'tomorrow'. Sad Eyes, that is what I had always called them. He wore them well.
"Who are we?" he so curiously asked.
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In those words we found, or rather formed, our story of Incandlessence.