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the graceful rise and fall of his chest. the only time he is truly peaceful, when he isn’t tripping over his own feet or running away halfway through a very important talk. he lays there, sleeping, and i watch his chest. rise and fall. calm breaths, sunlight fluttering on his face. his eyelashes are a lighter shade in the sunbeams. his nose scrunches when my hair falls from floating around him. such small details. he’s so calm when he sleeps with me. the nightmares almost stop. no more gunfights, no more dying. he says its the only time his brain shuts up for long enough to try to sleep. he stopped sleeping in his room.
i pull the blanket back over his shoulders. he always shivers. he can’t sleep without two duvets. he needs a weighted quilt. the only things he brings from his room is his lethargic form shuffling down the hall and his childhood plush hare. he says its his favourite because they run fast. he holds the hare in his hands like its life support. he always drops it when his eyes close. he kisses it before he kisses me. it’s one of the the only times i won’t be angry about being second to someone. he only sleeps if he knows its with me.
i move the rabbit plush from in between the two of us. i place it behind him, and snuggle into his chest, into the spot it was laying before. i draw patterns on his plain coloured t-shirt with my fingers. he mumbles in his sleep. i think i hear “i love you.” then i hear his breathing rise, and fall, and rise again, and i see it happen. the panicked rise and fall of his chest. i pull him into my arms. i kiss the top of his head and rub circles on his back. he begins to calm again. i never stop kissing him.
he stirs again, and i kiss his face to chase away the lingerings of fear. he isn’t immune to nightmares, when with me, but they become less frequent. less scary. he opens his eyes, and smiles. he tries to apologise for waking me, and i just cut him off and squeeze his hand, which has snaked its way around behind him, grabbed my hand and moved it to his chest. he kisses me back. i look out the window. the sun has now moved to flood through the window, only occasionally broken by clouds. he pulls the bunny back from behind him and shuffles further into my body. it was an attempt for attention. he never has to attempt to earn my love. he acts like he doesn’t know that yet. i kiss him again, and again, and again. he begins to laugh. not a pretty one by conventional means, but to me its music. to me its home.
the graceful rise and fall of his chest. his laughter floods the room, and mine starts up when he reaches out to tickle me. he knows all my weaknesses. i know all of his. we never use them for harm. thats why this feels so safe. the sun flutters across the white sheets again, the hair on the pillows, the smudged mascara and war paint. he holds me, hand hovering over my sides, prepared to tickle me again. i try to stop him, but he’s stronger than me. thats why i feel safe in his arms. hes my person, and im his, and i watch the quick rise and fall of his chest as he makes me eyes water and my lungs heave and my face scrunch and my laughter drown his out.
he holds me, and i him, and the laughter subsides into kisses. peppery kisses, cheeks and necks and hands and chests. the graceful rise and fall of his chest. the parallel rhythm of mine.