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Eurydice's new favorite way to wake up is to the sound of Orpheus’s lyre. Every morning, softly plucking a gentle melody that always sounds familiar, even if it’s a new song. Neither of them likes to rise before the sun does, but Orpheus usually wakes up earlier and plays for them until Eurydice wakes as well. Today, her first thought is of the song she’s hearing. It’s the same one he was playing as she fell asleep, with a few minor additions. She remembers the two of them humming gently to the chords as she begins to process the details of the morning. The second thing she notices is the chill in the bedroom. Eurydice automatically twists into her blankets, and she marvels at how natural this new life is starting to feel. And it’s all thanks to Orpheus, she muses fondly. Well, Orpheus and his...connections. Mr. Hermes was the one who gave them this apartment. It's right above the bar where they work, and it was Hermes’s before he gave it to them.
“Been planning to sell this old thing soon, anyway,” he’d told them the day they got married. “Figured you two might appreciate it.”
Eurydice gives herself a few seconds to relish everything about the moment: the wonderful memory of their wedding day, the warm bed, the tranquil sound of the lyre—but most importantly, the person in bed with her.
She shifts, making sure to keep the the covers bundled securely around her as she goes, so that she can see her husband. Right now, in the darkness of a winter morning, he appears to be little more than a silhouette, sitting up in bed. He looks mysterious, almost ethereal. But as her eyes adjust to the the lack of light, she begins to make out the outline of his face: the lines of his nose, the curves of his lips, the point of his chin. And gradually, the finer details come into focus as well. She sees that his eyes are closed—obviously, he’s trying to savor the serenity of this moment as much as she is. It’s a common sight to see him like this these days. His eyes will be shut, his hands quietly strumming his lyre, cuddling up to Eurydice. In these moments, Eurydice (and anyone else who happens to look their way) can see the expression of complete peace on his face, as if he’s finally getting a rest after a long day of work. Which, really, is usually the case.
Now, Eurydice sees his eyes slide open, watching him register her movement. His eyes turn bright as they meet her sleepy ones.
“‘Rydice,” he beams, and suddenly Eurydice can’t feel the bite of the early-morning air. Somehow, she gets the feeling it has nothing to do with the blankets wrapped tightly around her.
“Morning,” she replies lazily. Her voice is raspy and groggy from sleep, while his is always clear and smooth, probably because he’s constantly either speaking or singing.
“Morning,” he grins again, and then ducks his head to check the position of his hands on the lyre. Eurydice feels something in her chest expand to the point that she’s nearly trembling with what she can only describe as affection for him. Affection for his little habits, like the way he checks his already-perfect hand position, or how he subconsciously plays with his bandana when he’s too full of nervous energy. Affection for his smile, which Eurydice can’t get used to but can’t get enough of either. Affection for the way he says her name, as musical as everything else that leaves his lips. Oh, his lips. Soft and lush, they mesmerize her as she watches them form the words—
“I love you.”
Three words, once utterly foreign to her, now as familiar as the apartment they share. Always spoken with an earnestness that makes her heart leap and swell, making her feel the strangest combination of excitement and contentment. She’d lived without hearing that phrase for so long that she forgot how much she needed it.
It took until the first time Orpheus said it to her (the first night of this summer, after they’d spent the day singing, dancing, and laughing together. he brought her to his and hermes’ apartment, and they closed the door). That night, she'd finally realized that her heart was just as hungry as her stomach. Now though, Eurydice knows the glory of having a full belly and a full heart. She’ll always be grateful for the fact that she’s been allowed to have both at the same time for the first time in years. Was it the fates or some higher power looking kindly down from above who granted her this dream come true? She has no idea, and honestly, she couldn’t care less how it happened. It’s enough for her to know that it did.
“I love you too.”
Bit by bit, light starts to seep into the room through the windows that they’ve sealed tightly for warmth. He kisses her on the forehead; she snuggles up to his side. They both release whatever final drops of tension may have been lingering in their bodies and melt against each other, eyes drifting closed again. They don’t even have to look at each other to know that they’re having the same thought:
It’s going to be a good day.