Work Text:
You don't understand art.
Luz has tried to show you the meanings, the definitions, what makes something become something . You don't really know what she is talking about, and you don't think you really care. Art is another way of expressing yourself, Luz tells you, when you can't find the right words to tell people how you feel. It's just stupid, you remember telling her. And you remember her ranting on and on about how it is not stupid, and that you are really the one who is stupid.
You have, without a doubt, seen thousands of historical art—but that is all it is to you. History. You don't understand it but you don't have to. All you need to know is that if you don't understand something, you ask Uncle.
(Of course, even he is unable to provide the answer to your heart.)
—
On your first date, Emira offers you her hand first.
You hesitate. You usually never do because you always know what you are doing, but it is always the smallest things that you have absolutely no clue about.
"Come on!" She giggles. "Don't be shy!"
You take her hand and she automatically curls her fingers over yours, her nails slightly scraping by but it is not in the least painful. And if it is, you are sure that you wouldn't mind as you have felt worse. Overall, her hand is holding onto yours tightly.
Clasping, as if she is protecting you from the thorns of this world.
—
You are too tired when you see her but you didn't want to call off your time together, so you went anyway. Her smile fades when she sees the dull look on your face.
You are to visit the carnival together.
She doesn't force you to do things you don't want to do.
Instead, she lets you sink the weight of your head into the curve of her neck and she hugs you and she pulls her fingers through your hair. The two of you fit together like two puzzle pieces, and so long as you have one another, you don't need to worry about the rest or figure out the whole picture. Things can stay confusing, unassured, and life can be as incomplete and as unfulfilling as it wants to be.
But this—all this that you have—this is enough.
—
She is talking but you are not listening. In a daze, you pretend to be listening when you are really thinking about Uncle's reaction upon knowing that you have failed him again.
She stops talking for a while and observes the expression on your face, you don't realise this until she speaks again. Her voice sounds disappointed. "Oh, you're upset again."
"Huh?" You blink. You even jump slightly. She is not happy when you finally process her words. "Oh, no. I'm perfectly fine!"
"I didn't ask you how you're doing. I know that you're not well."
"No. No, it's not that…"
"Hunter, I can tell just by looking at your face."
With that said, she looks away and gives you time to think. So you think: shit, she's mad at me again.
—
She reads you so well despite the fact that you are a page overfilled with words written in messy handwriting, blotted inks and circles drawn in a repeated motion. You don't know how she does it, but regardless, you are glad. You are not the best at expressing yourself, so it is nice to have someone who can easily—and it does not have to be immediately—tell how you are feeling.
—
It begins from the first day of your official marriage, when you are husband and wife, that she would sometimes wake up earlier than you and nestle her soft body against you. She will, however, pretend that she is sleeping when you open your eyes to check so that she would not have to wake up and make breakfast. In return for her love, you get out of bed first to make the breakfast.
You are both tired.
You: Grumpy. Mumbling about shit through the process of making pancakes for breakfast (Pancakes: a human food that Luz has taught you how to make, it is easy and rather tasteful. Luz eats it with what she calls 'strawberry jam' or 'nutella', but you don't have those so you use jam personal to the Boiling Isles). As you walk around the kitchen, you see the faint of your reflection through the window, you see just how exhausted you look. Dark circles. Strands of hair heading in every direction. You: A mess.
Her: Yawning. Stretching. She hums as she eats her plate of food. She always, always wakes up looking like a supermodel, her hair is messy but it is the good kind of messy and it makes you want to mess with it even more because she is that adorable. She doesn't let you do that so you help her brush it instead before she leaves for work.
It is always that when you see her, you feel a bit better.
—
Some nights you lay awake.
You don't watch your beloved wife fall asleep like all the other young married couples who post pictures of their spouse sleeping on Penstagram, as Emira has shown you pictures and stories from Amity's account. Instead, you spend hours looking at the ceiling thinking. You think of possibly everything—from the growth of childhood to adulthood, of days you used to feel like shit, all of your failures and successes and then your failures again because you can never be happy for very long, and, to have even think that you have moved on, you still think of your uncle.
Some nights you wake up crying and screaming, and when you wipe your tears away and rub your eyes, you see Emira by your side looking frantic. You are all shaking and freezing. The room is dark and there are colours sneaking up on you, they only stop when Emira flicks on the switch of the lamp before helping you sit up. She pats your back, she ruffles your hair, she leaves and you start to panic again but then she comes back with a glass of water and slightly wet cloth to dab away at your sweat, she asks you if you are okay, she helps you breathe.
"I think you had a bad dream." She whispers, but she never asks what it is unless you tell her. She understands that sometimes it is difficult to speak about these kinds of things.
She has always been the one watching over you.
And the thing is, whilst she may understand you better than you do yourself or the way you understand her, she will never know everything about you. The inner and the truth. But, she is well aware that she does not need to know it all, and all she needs to do is be there by your side.