Chapter Text
You turned at the sound of the floorboard’s creak. The shadowed figure moved silently and slowly through the near-dark apartment, with the occasional stripes of moonlight, of the earliest dawn, laying across the oak colored floors and her feet as she moved towards the light of the kitchen.
You didn’t have to see her to know it was her; the outline you could barely make out through the night was enough. By now, of course, this was routine: She’d climb in through the slightly ajar window— nearly knocking over the potted fern that sat underneath so you would know of her presence— and make her way to you, swiftly, steadily, surely, certainly, wherever you were, wherever she was.
Oftentimes you found yourself sitting on the couch waiting for Cass’ return to you, letting the late night television drown out your thoughts of what could’ve gone wrong. You would try to let the cool glowing haze of re-runs warm you, distract you like lullabies begging for a moment’s sleep. Then, hours into the night, you would think you hear her gentleness break the not-so-silence of your dreams, only to be rocked awake by the tenderness of her hand, followed by her lips, on your head. It would be sudden and shrouded in shadows, but you knew it was her returning to you— safe and unharmed.
Tonight was different though. Her steps were louder, her movements slower and uncharacteristic. She stumbled her way from the window towards your seat on the cool floor of the dimly lit kitchen.
Cass came into the light, leaning at the edge of your small kitchen and eyeing the near-empty liquor bottle and abandoned take-out you ordered some time ago, although you had forgotten how long exactly.
She slid down to your level on the floor, moving to be closer to you with her hesitant and ached moments. You looked at her, something you found impossible to resist, as she stared off into the scratched and scuffed tiled floor. The strands of her hair curtained her face, but the touch of her shoulders, dressed in the darkness of Gotham’s night, against yours told you all that you needed to know. And that made you want to cry.
Cass slowly turned towards you, as if she somehow heard your whirling thoughts. Her face was close to yours, close enough for you to see the details of features. The color of her eyes were lit aflame under that dull, orange light. You could see the delicate streaks of black circling her pupil, the reddish-purple hue around her eye bringing out the rich golden brown. Dry blood caked her lips and broken nose, congealing unto her skin like a deep-red ink containing secrets. You felt yourself inch closer and closer. Being this close to her was like a sin; the moment your worlds collide you may forget how to breathe and be consumed by a fire.
You leaned in closer.
“I’m terrified,” you whispered, letting your drunken fears brush against her lips and disappear into their lines and curves. You knew Cass could taste the drinks you’ve drowned yourself in while waiting for her, but you didn’t care. You wanted to be close to her, to be with her and her alone. You think she wanted the same.
You leaned in again, closer and closer until your lips finally met hers. The taste of iron was overwhelming, drowning your senses in a wine-red sea. Cass’ hand slowly climbed to grip your arm, inching delicately upwards to rest on your neck. It was freeing to let this blood be your wine, your medicine, your love; you felt the fear and anxiety that weighed your pockets and tears burn away by her kisses and touches— all searing and burning and loving.
It was selfish, you knew, but at least for tonight you can let yourself be consumed by some untamable want. At least for tonight you can let yourself kiss away the aches of red from her bruised skin. At least for tonight you can hide your fears in the crook of her neck, the place dawn arises. At least for tonight you can be something more.