Shutdown (Glitch)

roughly like we’d been attached to the end of a rope that had suddenly run out.
    The ground was only a few feet below. I shuddered. If we’d tumbled out of the sky over the treetops instead of a small open field, we’d have been—
    I cut off the thought and gently set us down the last few feet, then promptly collapsed. I laid flat on my stomach, panting for several long moments with my face against the grass.
    “If you’re trying to deactivate us,” Adrien said as he lay beside me, breathing heavily, “there are more pleasant ways to die than plummeting to the earth.” Then he laughed. The noise echoed oddly in the air. “When I was a kid I always dreamed about flying. I think I’m cured of it now.”
    If I hadn’t been so exhausted, I’d have been surprised at the laugh. As it was, all I could do was giggle in response. I was so deliriously tired, it seemed like the funniest thing I’d ever heard. His laugh sounded so … so Adrien .
    “Yeah,” I said. “I’ll have to work on the landings.” I rolled over onto my back. My body felt so heavy, like rocks had been sewn into my skin. The sun was rising. Everything around me seemed to glow, indistinct and blurry around the edges because of the early morning fog. It was hard to tell where the light ended and the trees began.
    I giggled again at how pretty it all was. I put a hand over my mouth but couldn’t stifle the high-pitched laughter, even though Adrien was looking at me strangely. Part of me knew this was just the sleep deprivation getting to me, but I was too distracted to care.
    “The light,” I said, pointing. “It’s so beautiful.”
    The fog tumbled along the ground. I reached out to touch it, imagining it would feel like cotton. But my fingers passed right through. I looked over at Adrien. The fog curled around him, and suddenly I had the strangest fear that he was a ghost. Adrien had read to me about them once, a long time ago. Intangible spirits who took the shape of people you’d loved and lost.
    And then suddenly, instead of laughing, I wanted to cry. Because that was what Adrien felt like to me now. A hollow echo who took the shape of the boy I’d loved, the boy who’d died all those months ago. I reached out for him, terrified my fingers would pass through him like they had the fog.
    But he was solid. I almost choked with relief. He wasn’t a ghost. He was still here. He was my Adrien, and he always would be. I didn’t care what he said.
    I rolled myself toward him and kissed his lips. He blinked in surprise, but didn’t pull away. I kissed him harder, pressing my lips against his. Then, almost without thinking, I wrapped my arms around his body, pulling him into me. For a moment, just a moment, I could pretend that he was my Adrien.
    With my hand on his chest, I could feel his heart starting to beat faster. After a long moment, his lips responded to mine.
    I was delirious with joy or lack of sleep, I didn’t care which. Adrien was kissing me again. Adrien loved me. Some small part of my brain registered that his kisses felt strange. Even though they were the same lips, he used them differently. His mouth was clumsy, as if he’d never done this before.
    I pushed him back so that he was on the ground, but kept my mouth connected to his, always connected. He moved beneath me and my body responded. Matching his perfectly. I’d always thought we were two parts of a puzzle that only clicked into place when we were with each other. Even though he responded slightly differently now, it was still the only thing that felt right on this entire earth.
    But then he broke away, panting hard. His eyes were wide, wild even. He stared at me several long moments before lifting me by the waist and depositing me on the ground beside him. “You’re exhausted. You’re forgetting I’m not him.”
    He bolted to his feet and walked away a few steps, lacing his fingers behind his head and hiding his face in his elbows for several long seconds.
    When he turned back to me, his face was a hard mask. “We should check the map. See how close we are.” He started tapping away at his arm panel.
    I stared at him in disbelief, and the illusion was instantly broken.
    I tried to get to my feet, wanting to shove him or punch him or do something to make him remember who he was. But I tripped on a bush when I tried to stand up and managed to catch myself on my elbows when I fell, only narrowly avoiding slamming my face into the ground.
    When I looked