Setting Rain on Fire 10.1/?
It was difficult to move the next morning.
My body was sore in places that I had forgotten existed since leaving the Cheerios. The pain was aggravated when Brittany began to lean on me when she dozed off sometime in the early hours of the morning, leaving me to support her entire dead weight. I was relieved, though, when I realized that her exhaustion prevented her from having bad dreams. On the other hand, my position was so uncomfortable that it was impossible to get much decent sleep.
But it all became worth it when Brittany woke up just in time to watch the sunrise. She had laid her head against my aching shoulder, snaked her arm around mine, and whispered sleepily, “It’s so beautiful, San.”
When it was over, she had stood up shakily, motioning for me to follow her as she lead the way back into the bedroom and collapsed groggily on the bed. I wanted to follow, but I was literally too tired to sleep. So I shuffled towards the small kitchen area and made myself coffee.
Two hours later, after countless refills, I hear as Brittany makes her way out of the bedroom. She stumbles over something as she nears the smell of coffee, then slumps into the chair adjacent to mine.
“Good morning.” I greet lightly, handing her a cup.
“Morning.” She mumbles, yawning. She begins to sip the dark liquid slowly, before making a face at the cup. “Blegh.” She sets it back on the table before turning to me and asking, “Did you get any sleep last night?”
“Not much.” I admit.
She nods thoughtfully, her eyes clouding over for a moment. Then they clear again and she shoots me a piercing look. “How do you feel?”
I feel my throat tighten and I lose my breath for a moment. “I dunno.” I finally reply, in a dry voice. “How do you feel?” I counter. She scrunches her face in thought for a moment.
“Different.” She replies eventually. “Not better, but... different.”
“Oh.”
She looks back down at her cup before saying, “Do you want to talk about it?”
I want to say no. I’m still recovering from the conversation yesterday, and I’m exhausted - physically and emotionally. I don’t know if I can handle another round of prying open bleeding wounds. It’s difficult enough dealing with the pain on my own, I don’t even know where to begin with expressing it. I don’t want to talk about it because I know she’s dealing with her own pain, something I know I can’t even begin to comprehend.
I want to say no because it gives me the illusion - no matter how temporary - that maybe if I ignore everything, it will eventually fade away.
But I know I need to say yes.
Brittany seems to sense my internal battle and cautiously lays her hand on my shoulder. “I have an idea. Let’s have breakfast out.”
“Breakfast?” I echo dumbly, stunned.
“Yup.” She nods, standing. “Then we’ll ask each other questions about...how we feel. And if it becomes too much, all you need to do is say so, and we’ll stop. How about that?”
I look at her gratefully before mumbling, “I have no idea what I’d do without you.”
She looks surprised, and it makes me wonder how long it’s been since I told her how important she was to me. I begin to feel guilty again, then she flashes me the million-watt smile I’d almost forgotten she had, and it’s so bright that I feel blinded for a moment. Then she leans over and squeezes my fingers gently.
“Well,” she says casually, lightly massaging the surface of my palms with her thumbs, “To be honest, I don’t know what I’d do without you, either.”
My body was sore in places that I had forgotten existed since leaving the Cheerios. The pain was aggravated when Brittany began to lean on me when she dozed off sometime in the early hours of the morning, leaving me to support her entire dead weight. I was relieved, though, when I realized that her exhaustion prevented her from having bad dreams. On the other hand, my position was so uncomfortable that it was impossible to get much decent sleep.
But it all became worth it when Brittany woke up just in time to watch the sunrise. She had laid her head against my aching shoulder, snaked her arm around mine, and whispered sleepily, “It’s so beautiful, San.”
When it was over, she had stood up shakily, motioning for me to follow her as she lead the way back into the bedroom and collapsed groggily on the bed. I wanted to follow, but I was literally too tired to sleep. So I shuffled towards the small kitchen area and made myself coffee.
Two hours later, after countless refills, I hear as Brittany makes her way out of the bedroom. She stumbles over something as she nears the smell of coffee, then slumps into the chair adjacent to mine.
“Good morning.” I greet lightly, handing her a cup.
“Morning.” She mumbles, yawning. She begins to sip the dark liquid slowly, before making a face at the cup. “Blegh.” She sets it back on the table before turning to me and asking, “Did you get any sleep last night?”
“Not much.” I admit.
She nods thoughtfully, her eyes clouding over for a moment. Then they clear again and she shoots me a piercing look. “How do you feel?”
I feel my throat tighten and I lose my breath for a moment. “I dunno.” I finally reply, in a dry voice. “How do you feel?” I counter. She scrunches her face in thought for a moment.
“Different.” She replies eventually. “Not better, but... different.”
“Oh.”
She looks back down at her cup before saying, “Do you want to talk about it?”
I want to say no. I’m still recovering from the conversation yesterday, and I’m exhausted - physically and emotionally. I don’t know if I can handle another round of prying open bleeding wounds. It’s difficult enough dealing with the pain on my own, I don’t even know where to begin with expressing it. I don’t want to talk about it because I know she’s dealing with her own pain, something I know I can’t even begin to comprehend.
I want to say no because it gives me the illusion - no matter how temporary - that maybe if I ignore everything, it will eventually fade away.
But I know I need to say yes.
Brittany seems to sense my internal battle and cautiously lays her hand on my shoulder. “I have an idea. Let’s have breakfast out.”
“Breakfast?” I echo dumbly, stunned.
“Yup.” She nods, standing. “Then we’ll ask each other questions about...how we feel. And if it becomes too much, all you need to do is say so, and we’ll stop. How about that?”
I look at her gratefully before mumbling, “I have no idea what I’d do without you.”
She looks surprised, and it makes me wonder how long it’s been since I told her how important she was to me. I begin to feel guilty again, then she flashes me the million-watt smile I’d almost forgotten she had, and it’s so bright that I feel blinded for a moment. Then she leans over and squeezes my fingers gently.
“Well,” she says casually, lightly massaging the surface of my palms with her thumbs, “To be honest, I don’t know what I’d do without you, either.”