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There is an orange glow coming from the kitchen, casted by lit candles. The scent of vanilla wafts through the halls.
Clervie groggily walks towards it, her arms stretched overhead with a yawn. A tall, lone figure stands in the kitchen. Her eyes seem to glow even brighter in the dimness surrounding them.
“You’re up early,” Clervie mumbles, voice still deep and raspy from sleep.
“Mh,” Arlecchino grunts. Sometimes the dreams are just too much, even with Clervie by her side. Sometimes they’re about Clervie. Those are the ones that affect her the most. Sometimes she doesn’t know whether she wants to seek out Clervie’s comfort, or avoid her in fear of what could happen, if what her dreams showed her were actually real.
Thankfully, Clervie understands. She stays. She walks around the kitchen doing her own thing, just within arms reach.
Arlecchino wordlessly slides another cup of coffee towards her, two cubes of sugar and a splash of cream. She picks up her cup, plain black brew, and turns around to rest her lower back against the counter to look at Clervie.
Clervie picks up her cup too, closes her eyes as she takes in the smell, her hands cupping the warmth of it, and the softest smile lights up her sleepy features.
Arlecchino loves this, loves her. She loves looking at her. She wants to commit every detail to memory. Clervie merely exists and the rest of the world fades away. She still can’t believe it some days, that they both made it out. They’ve built a life for themselves. Together. They’re together. She blindly hopes that they’re together in every lifetime.
Clervie sets down her cup on the counter and giggles. “You’re always doing that.”
“Doing what?”
“You know what.”
Arlecchino does. Still, she loves to tease. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Clervie rolls her eyes and slides up to her, close but not enough to touch. “You’re staring.”
“Is that a crime?”
She shakes her head fondly, her hands wrapping around Arlecchino’s, guiding them to set her cup down. She doesn’t let go. “No. But surely you get sick of the same view all the time?”
“Never.” Arlecchino asserts. “If my gaze ever strays, you may pluck my eyes out yourself.”
Clervie laughs, “Nooo, but your eyes are so pretty!”
“Then, it’s a good thing you’ll never have to, hm?”
Arlecchino returns her hold, gently squeezing Clervie’s hands and leaning closer so their foreheads touch.
She hears a contented sigh, and Clervie closes her eyes. Arlecchino can feel her breath against her lips, the warmth of her skin where they touch through fabric, the coldness on the tips of her fingers rubbing against her hands seeking heat, the lingering perfume on her sleepwear, the scent of her shampoo, just the presence of her.
She feels her throat tighten. Her jaw clenches, and she closes her eyes too, pulling Clervie ever so slightly closer, a small, selfish act. She wants to keep her here, bottle this moment up and live in it forever. The children are still sound asleep, and so is the rest of the world. It’s just them, the moon, the stars, the rising sun, a home. Gods, they’ve made a home. She couldn’t have done it without Clervie. She mourns the possibility of it. She grieves for a world without Clervie in it, even if that isn’t the world she inhabits.
Clervie’s hands let go, and Arlecchino’s naturally settle on her hips. She reaches up to cup Arlecchino’s face, and a chaste kiss is pressed on the tip of her nose. Arlecchino opens her eyes as if commanded by her touch.
“Hi,” Clervie whispers.
Arlecchino simply can’t help the laugh that escapes her. Her whole life has been spent with one person, and she still makes her feel like they’re carefree children without any worries, like the rest of the day doesn’t exist, but the rest of their lives do. And they’re certain it will be spent together.
“What do you want for breakfast, ma vie?”
Instead of replying, Clervie merely pouts and looks up at Arlecchino through fluttering lashes.
Another laugh, and Arlecchino grants her wishes, kissing her on the mouth. She pours all of her love, her gratefulness, into the kiss. She feels Clervie smile into it, and her heart melts, helpless to the feeling.
Clervie’s still smiling after their lips separate. So is Arlecchino.
“Breakfast?”
“Make me crepes, please.”
“Of course.”
Clervie goes to finish her coffee, sitting on a stool to watch her love work in the kitchen. Arlecchino downs the rest of her drink in one go. As she takes out the ingredients from the cupboards, the sun rises and its rays reach into the kitchen through the window.
She looks back, of course. She stares at Clervie. Clervie’s already watching her.
When they were children, Clervie would swiftly look away after being caught. Arlecchino was more stubborn, keeping the stare even though her ears were already turning red, not willing to be the first to break.
Now, they hold each other’s gaze, steady and sure. Once their children wake, the day will carry on and they’ll be busy with life’s everyday tasks. It’s moments like this that make everything worth it.
There will be many dishes to clean after making breakfast, more than usual because of Clervie’s request. The counter will be a mess. But it’s worth it. If Clervie thinks she’s worth the mess, then surely cooking for her and the mess that comes with it is miniscule in comparison. After breakfast, Clervie will be there as she washes the dishes, and she’ll laugh, tell jokes, and listen to the children’s stories at the table.
She made a risk putting her heart on the line, going all in on the gamble of life and death. She opened her heart to be hurt, to be vulnerable, to finally love. She let herself be impulsive, let herself feel sorrow, let herself understand that one can only feel grief because of a great love that’s bleeding with nowhere to go. The price to pay for loving Clervie is to lose her eventually.
It’s worth it.
The time to lose her is not now. And gods help whoever dares to stand in her way as she moves heaven and earth for Clervie to live a long time, fulfilled and satisfied, only going on her own accord.
When Clervie leaves with a smile, just as she greeted Arlecchino the first time they met, that’s when Arlecchino will depart. Until then, she has a duty to fulfil. To nurture Clervie’s smile, and to love her wholly.