End of the Book.

Years had passed, and we both had grown older than our skins. I cleared my throat in a gesture of genuine awkwardness. He looked the opposite direction, pretending he hadn't heard anything but the continual blast of the train whistle. The hand in mine felt like a dead fish, but I didn't care. I could write a philosophical book on whether it is better to have dead fish or no fish at all, knowing that in the end I would prefer the rotting fish to an empty hand.
"So, I guess I'll see you around," he said. I coughed on my tears, looking up at the sky. It was splintered with bits of gray amongst the pale pink of the sunrise. Funny how the smallest things remind you of life, and even in the best possible scenario, the bad guy will end up dying. I guess people don't usually think about the bad guys when they come to the end of a movie.
"I wish-..." I cracked on the words that wouldn't spill.
His fish hand came to life, gripping my weak chin in it so I had to look at him.
"Maybe we can get together when this has blown over." With his smile and my pain, I could almost see the silver tint to his lie.