Stay...
Twice in a single day Wesley had asked me if I had wanted him to stay, and twice I had replied with the answer I thought we both wanted to hear. After downstairs, and Charles, I had been so frightened of anything ever remotely resembling alone that the words had come tumbling out with a force I thought I had forgotten. And then, in the part after the alone, but before the together? I had whispered the word 'Stay', when what I really had wanted was for him not to go. And no matter how much that might sound like the same thing...it really isn't.
And then I discovered that intent was secondary, at least to the arms that held me close. Only to then sense my need to be myself, to touch and test the alone I was so afraid of, before reaching out for Wesley's warmth once more. Was he that assured that I would always come back? Was he that brave? Did he trust me...more than I trusted myself? Whatever it was, I burried myself there inside that strength, swearing silently that I would save it to return just as soon as I possibly could. And somewhere in the give and take of it all that was sometimes soft, and sometimes good, and that always made me ache I found something to hold on to. Someone that made me want again. Perhaps one of the best things I had known, in all of my time...not just the past few days. But then that was when I remained still enough to think, something I was still fighting against.
"I missed you." I remembered saying that after one moment, but before the next. I used to thrill in the double meaning of words...to love the different sides of things. But this just wasn't the kind of missing that came from much to little too late. This was an over my head, passing in the darkness, painful kind of regret that came from being that last to see. How had I missed Wesley, and for so long? I knew that my hands were eager, and worked to fill in my eyes' failings with determined touch. It was good, tender...overcompensation. Until it became something else again. Until it returned to the part where it didn't matter.
Just before we fell asleep, I caught one last look at the stars and remembered working to just look, and not worry on the seeing. Wesley's arms were wrapped tightly around me, and I could feel his breath warm and solid, gliding through my hair. I don't think that it was accident that somehow he had placed himself firmly between me and the rest of the hotel. After all, it wasn't the sky that hurt...but what was downstairs. That was when I finally cried a little, the tears just as silent as I knew they would be. The feeling behind them was different, and not unwanted, but the wetness was still there.
I didn't want to be this weak again. I wasn't sure if I could get through it. Not when suddenly...hopefully? Not when it might not be just me. When I woke up I wasn't suprised to find that I had shifted in my sleep, I had never been one to stay in one place. But I was startled to find my face burried in Wesley's chest, and to feel, more than hear, the beat of his heart. Arms and legs were unsettled things, often opinionated on where they rested. Finding that place face to face, where sleep was welcome and allowed had always seemed to me a rare occurance. It took work and knowing...and certain amounts of time. And yet we had stumbled upon it without even a thought.
I felt myself smiling...really smiling, and was caught up in the strangness of it. I think I might have touched my own mouth if it hadn't meant waking Wesley. So...I didn't. But I couldn't go back to sleep either. If I could wake up, then he could do the same just as easily. He could wake up, and get dressed, and leave. Wesley could go downstairs with the simple intention of facing the day...and all I could think was that I couldn't face being left alone.
I don't know how he got through that part.
And yet here I was, silently working and shifting from my bed, ready to do just such a thing to him...again. And maybe it wouldn't be like that for Wesley, maybe it wouldn't feel that way. Maybe it was just my own silly fears, the ones that were louder than the dark. I didn't want to leave without a word, but for some reason waking him didn't up feel like an option either. He just looked so...peaceful. I considered a placeholder of some kind, and for a moment my eyes moved over to Fiegenbaum, his back still turned to the bed. But it seemed rather juivenile an ill-fitting, so instead I leaned down to press my lips first to the exposed hollow of Wesley's shoulder, and then briefly to his mouth. In the time I had gotten dressed Wesley had turned slightly in his sleep, making the embrace unfairly easy for my part. "I missed you," I whispered once more, hoping there was enough awake behind his eyes that Wesley might remember the words. That wasn't just a placeholder...that was my place.
Slipping out into the hallway I slowly made my way down to the lobby, and then to the kitchen. It was suprisingly quiet, especially compared to the day before. I shuddered...trying not to compare it at all. Finding solace in action, I set about to making breakfast, my eyes constantly seeking the door. The results were more than even I could ever eat...more than everyone here could possibly eat.
But at least it kept me busy.
((open to anyone))
And then I discovered that intent was secondary, at least to the arms that held me close. Only to then sense my need to be myself, to touch and test the alone I was so afraid of, before reaching out for Wesley's warmth once more. Was he that assured that I would always come back? Was he that brave? Did he trust me...more than I trusted myself? Whatever it was, I burried myself there inside that strength, swearing silently that I would save it to return just as soon as I possibly could. And somewhere in the give and take of it all that was sometimes soft, and sometimes good, and that always made me ache I found something to hold on to. Someone that made me want again. Perhaps one of the best things I had known, in all of my time...not just the past few days. But then that was when I remained still enough to think, something I was still fighting against.
"I missed you." I remembered saying that after one moment, but before the next. I used to thrill in the double meaning of words...to love the different sides of things. But this just wasn't the kind of missing that came from much to little too late. This was an over my head, passing in the darkness, painful kind of regret that came from being that last to see. How had I missed Wesley, and for so long? I knew that my hands were eager, and worked to fill in my eyes' failings with determined touch. It was good, tender...overcompensation. Until it became something else again. Until it returned to the part where it didn't matter.
Just before we fell asleep, I caught one last look at the stars and remembered working to just look, and not worry on the seeing. Wesley's arms were wrapped tightly around me, and I could feel his breath warm and solid, gliding through my hair. I don't think that it was accident that somehow he had placed himself firmly between me and the rest of the hotel. After all, it wasn't the sky that hurt...but what was downstairs. That was when I finally cried a little, the tears just as silent as I knew they would be. The feeling behind them was different, and not unwanted, but the wetness was still there.
I didn't want to be this weak again. I wasn't sure if I could get through it. Not when suddenly...hopefully? Not when it might not be just me. When I woke up I wasn't suprised to find that I had shifted in my sleep, I had never been one to stay in one place. But I was startled to find my face burried in Wesley's chest, and to feel, more than hear, the beat of his heart. Arms and legs were unsettled things, often opinionated on where they rested. Finding that place face to face, where sleep was welcome and allowed had always seemed to me a rare occurance. It took work and knowing...and certain amounts of time. And yet we had stumbled upon it without even a thought.
I felt myself smiling...really smiling, and was caught up in the strangness of it. I think I might have touched my own mouth if it hadn't meant waking Wesley. So...I didn't. But I couldn't go back to sleep either. If I could wake up, then he could do the same just as easily. He could wake up, and get dressed, and leave. Wesley could go downstairs with the simple intention of facing the day...and all I could think was that I couldn't face being left alone.
I don't know how he got through that part.
And yet here I was, silently working and shifting from my bed, ready to do just such a thing to him...again. And maybe it wouldn't be like that for Wesley, maybe it wouldn't feel that way. Maybe it was just my own silly fears, the ones that were louder than the dark. I didn't want to leave without a word, but for some reason waking him didn't up feel like an option either. He just looked so...peaceful. I considered a placeholder of some kind, and for a moment my eyes moved over to Fiegenbaum, his back still turned to the bed. But it seemed rather juivenile an ill-fitting, so instead I leaned down to press my lips first to the exposed hollow of Wesley's shoulder, and then briefly to his mouth. In the time I had gotten dressed Wesley had turned slightly in his sleep, making the embrace unfairly easy for my part. "I missed you," I whispered once more, hoping there was enough awake behind his eyes that Wesley might remember the words. That wasn't just a placeholder...that was my place.
Slipping out into the hallway I slowly made my way down to the lobby, and then to the kitchen. It was suprisingly quiet, especially compared to the day before. I shuddered...trying not to compare it at all. Finding solace in action, I set about to making breakfast, my eyes constantly seeking the door. The results were more than even I could ever eat...more than everyone here could possibly eat.
But at least it kept me busy.
((open to anyone))