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Small water droplets glisten underneath the artificial lights in the hospital bathroom, the sound of the blow dryer drowning out her thoughts and the noises coming from a shower nearby, creating a calming veil that continues to envelop her even when she turns it off and combs through her hair.
Slowly, carefully, the bristles of the brush glide through it, momentarily forming new and thicker strands that then fall back into their previous position as if they longed to reunite with their neighbors, friends or loved ones.
The very image shatters the therapeutic moment – one of peacefulness that one discovers by chance in the messy tangle that is the hectic and stress of everyday life – and stirs up the barely concealed longing within her; the yearning for one brief period of rest that truly feels serene, and not like the promised sunset glimmering on the horizon is only visible through dirty windows.
And Casey is desperate to have an unobstructed view, chasing the sundown by picking up the pace, teeth digging into her lower lip when the bristles of the brush get caught in a knot in her hair and her head gets yanked to the side.
Sighing, she makes the decision to just let it be, hurriedly throwing her stuff into a toiletry bag before rushing into the hospital locker room, hoping she isn’t too late. Hoping that the night hasn’t yet fallen.
It is only when she rounds the last corner in the brown and grey labyrinth, occasionally smiling at others when passing by, that the room suddenly seems to become much warmer, temperature rising and walls getting tainted in a pink-ish orange glow.
There – where it’s the brightest -, Bryce is leaning against his locker, seeming almost relaxed if it weren’t for the barely detectable frown he is wearing as he stares at his phone, strands of his hair hiding one of his eyes a little when he tears his gaze away and looks up. And then the phone isn’t the only thing lighting up his face up anymore, a big grin appearing on his lips that tells her everything she needs to know.
The toiletry bag and her gym outfit land on – what she hopes is – the bench next to him – she isn’t paying much attention to it – even before a teasing comment fills the quickly diminishing room between them; one that gets interrupted by a soft oof when she throws herself into his waiting arms.
“Couldn’t wait to get your hands on me?” He jokes, his breath catching in her hair before he buries his nose in it.
Casey mirrors his movement, a sigh escaping her as the cloud of tension she has carried with her for the past few weeks slowly dissipates, the sun chasing them away.
“Don’t pretend you don’t like it,” she answers him, voice softer than she anticipated, the teasing edge to it wrapped in cotton candy. Yet she doesn’t mind the sugary sweetness, too caught up in the feeling of his body enveloping hers, the aquatic and citrusy scent of his shower gel and the peaceful warmth accompanying the sensations.
They gently caress her, welcome her home as she allows herself to indulge in her need for a moment of serenity. For a moment of happiness while embracing the sunset.
For a moment with Bryce – one that isn’t weighed down by the stress and emotional baggage that seems to have multiplied with Keiki’s appearance in Boston a couple of weeks ago. Because between the fun and emotional moments that have brought all of them closer together, old and new ghost continuously slip through the many cracks in the cement, opening not-healed wounds and haunting everybody.
“Having you in my arms is always nice, Casey.”
“Only nice?”
“It’s perfect,” he answers, amusement dancing in the tone of his voice and in his eyes, the latter only visible when Casey pulls away just slightly, remaining in his arms still like it could shield both of them from anything unpleasant.
Yet, it is already lingering in their circle, a hint of something in Bryce’s gaze that he is trying to hide, eyes flitting away and coming to a rest on something that leads to a repositioning of his arms, hands now tenderly combing through her hair before seemingly – and skillfully – untangling a knot in it.
And only after a moment of contemplation – of trying to gauge his mood and stealing a quick glance at the clock hanging on the wall nearby – does Casey allow herself to unravel at his gentle touch and the intimate gesture; worries untwining, leaving only small dents and bumps behind that – for one single moment – seem to be as soft and beautiful as the surface of a cloud.
She can only hope that he too feels more relaxed now, the gym session he dragged her to in the darkness of the early morning hours – exploiting her desire to spend more time with him before their shifts – seemed to have had that effect on him after all, his quips by the end of it feeling more natural.
To keep him – them – in that state of mind, Casey cheekily lets her hands glide down his strong back, the material of his coat slightly rough underneath her fingertips until one of her hands comes to a rest on his waist, the other on his butt. The grin that forms on Bryce’s lips in response is almost enough to make her lose herself completely in the beautiful spectacle.
And then the line of her horizon moves, Bryce’s hair caressing her nose before his cheek greets hers and his lips brush against her ear.
“I hope your day is as great as my butt, Case,” he whispers.
A surprised snort fills the room a second later, so abrupt and loud that it could startle a flock of birds to take flight, black spots against a colorful scenery. As it is, it simply draws a few looks from their colleagues as the sound travels through the room while Bryce slips out of her arms with a devilish grin.
“Oh, I’ll definitely have a nice day now.”
“Only nice?” Bryce asks, throwing her previous question back at her, his eyes sparkling even more now that she narrows her own a little, her own grin widening. “You wound me, Casey. My butt is a masterpiece.”
Chuckling and blushing just slightly, she breaks the eye contact when he starts to tease her for having checked him out earlier at the hospital gym, putting her stuff into her locker almost mechanically, attention still fully on him.
“Well, clothes can be deceiving,” she finally says when closing the locker door and turning to where he is standing next to her, unable to keep her gaze from finding his again. “I might need a better reminder later.”
Stars break through the fading colors then, illuminating the night sky and glimmering in Bryce’s eyes at the statement. And when they part ways a minute or two later, both of them throwing themselves into the tangled but oftentimes resolvable chaos in the hospital corridors, patient rooms and ORs, his look and the silent promise to reunite again soon continue to envelop Casey in a comforting hug.
After all, every bleeding sunset will inevitably allow new colors to explore the endlessness of the sky, the next sundown already blooming in the darkness.