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“Clem?.. Lele?”
He jerked, as if he hadn't woken up, but had emerged from under the thickness of the water, had torn himself out of a deep and not very pleasant sleep. Clem squinted in confusion, immediately naturally searching for Marcus with his gaze, trying to feel his warmth, his touch, his presence. Him entirely. Marcus, understandingly, snuggled closer, clasped his hands on Clem’s back, intertwining their legs. Clem involuntarily fidgeted, tried to get more comfortable in Marcus’s embrace, buried his own forehead in his shoulder.
There was a cloudburst outside. A real storm was raging, and Clem, shuddering, heard the rain lashing the windows harder, the wind howling. And inside the small room, on the second floor, under the blanket, it was so warm and cozy.
Marcus hugged Clem, held him so tightly, as if trying to protect him from everything in the world, and at the same time so carefully and tenderly that Clem felt himself melting. Thawing. Dissolving. He felt safe in Marcus's arms. He tried to settle his head on Marcus's chest, to relax, and maybe then Marcus wouldn't notice...
“Did you dream of something bad?”
Of course Marcus would notice. Marcus knew him better than Clem knew himself. Clem didn't even try to deny it, just nodded weakly, brushing with his tousled curls across Marcus's chin. Marcus kissed Clem lightly on the top of his head.
“I'm not insisting, if you don't want to talk— let us just be quiet,” Marcus slightly squeezed his hands, stroked Clem's tense shoulders. “I can tell you another stupid harmless talk. Or jokes that my mechanics told,” he smiled. “Anything, Lele.”
Clem shifted slightly, nuzzling Marcus's neck where his natural scent was strongest, breathing it in, feeling the notes of his own shower gel.
“Maybe I have— dreamed,” Clem admitted, still hesitantly. “I don’t remember. It was just— like I couldn’t get out, like something was holding me. Keeping me from finding you,” he gently touched Marcus with his palm, running his fingers over Marcus’s chest, as if checking to make sure he was truly there. Real.
The nightmares always returned in December, at first just a little, occasionally, unnoticeably, then more and more intensely, exhausting to the point that Clem began to resemble a shadow of himself.
“I’m here,” Marcus confirmed his words by kissing Clem lightly, weightlessly, barely touching his lips. “I’m here and I’m not going anywhere,” he brushed his cheek against Clem’s disheveled hair. Clem stirred. “It’s okay, you’re safe.”
“I know— I just—”
Clem bit his lip, stammering, not knowing how to say it, feeling that damned lump in his throat. He winced as the thunder outside rumbled again with incredible force, and the room became white for a moment from how bright the lightning had been.
“This is the first Christmas, the first time since— and first time I'm trying to spend it with you and my family, and…” Clem buried his face in Marcus, hiding from everything, from the nightmares in his dreams, from the past, from his own weakness, “and I want to run away again, but it won't help. It will be just as bad. And I'll keep coming back to that day, over and over again.”
“Nobody’s rushing you, Lele,” Marcus stroked his back, ran his fingers over Clem’s shoulder blades, touched his shoulders with palm, squeezing slightly. Clem stirred again, fidgeted, but didn’t move away. Marcus put his other arm around Clem’s waist. “Nobody expects you to feel anything different after— don’t force yourself. Not here. Don’t hide from me, okay?..”
Clem nodded, still not raising his head.
“I'm already being so fucking selfish with everyone,” he let out a strangled, exhausted breath, “with you. You do so much, you waited for me for so long, I have to—”
“And I'll wait just as long, if it's needed. Be with me. Be yourself. Be real with me, without masks, without a pretty picture, be real, even if it means that you'll grumble at the whole world.”
Clem lifted his head awkwardly to look at Marcus. Their eyes met for one long, but at the same time so brief moment.
“Marcus—”
“If you say anything stupid, like you don't deserve me or anything like that, I'm going to hit you, okay?” Marcus leaned forward into the tiny space between them, pressing his forehead against Clem's, closing his eyes for a moment.
“I love you,” Clem suddenly breathed out, barely audible. “I know, I don’t say it often, I’m afraid, afraid that I’ll scare everything away, that I’ll ruin it, and— it’s always been that way, so—”
“I know. And I feel it when you are near, without words. In your gestures, in the way you bury yourself in me and seek protection,” Marcus carefully took his face in his hands. “You are always afraid to allow yourself too much, I feel it. But these hugs and these moments when you press yourself from behind or bury your face in my shoulder, it is bigger and more important than all the words. I know, and every time I just want to say ‘be mine’.”
“I am. Tonight, next night, and ten thousand nights after that, I’ll be yours, until the very end,” Clem muttered like a spell, and Marcus, unable to restrain himself, pressed his lips, kissed him, not hotly, but madly tenderly, tremblingly, almost desperately, trying to form without words what he wanted to say, what he felt. Clem responded to the kiss awkwardly, at first confused, closing his eyes, but trusting Marcus infinitely with all of himself, leaning closer when Marcus ran his fingers through his hair.
The storm outside the window died down.