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The rumbling of the grey clouds reverberates, clattering and shaking the windows, grabbing the house by the reins and shaking it. The earth itself trembled in fear and through it all, you lay huddled in your blankets, squeezing your eyes shut and praying for it all to end. Your thoughts and dreams, everything was out of order, mixed, haphazard, like your brain had been jumbled and thoroughly ruined, like your voices in your head were yelling to be heard, and–
“I didn’t know you were still awake” you hear a soft drawl near the door as a figure approaches slowly. Sylus. You breathe out shakily, relief overcoming you all of a sudden before whispering “I thought you left already”. He sits on the bed’s edge, teetering, and gently leans over, pauses for a moment, and then strokes your hair. Your head pulses with the pressure of screwing your eyelids shut, but he smooths over them with his thumb, tracing your brows, eyes, lashes, cheeks and lips reverently, with surgical precision. He’s caressing your jaw and you can’t think of anything right now; he’s mapping you, memorizing your hair and pores and moles and your thoughts are muddled and all you can think of is him. It’s like he’s sculpting and carving out your face with his maddeningly tender touch. You sigh, unknotting your brows and relax, just for a moment. He always knows how I’m feeling, even if I don’t speak to or even look at him.
You finally open your eyes to gaze at him, as lightning flashes and illuminates the depths of his face, his jaw and pronounced eyebags. “Can you stay with me just for tonight?” you exhale slowly. He lowers himself down onto the bed, propping himself up with one elbow, and– “Of course I will”. He continues his soft murmurations as he cradles your head to his chest, stroking the nape of your neck and tapping, like a sort of alien code, like he’s trying to send you a subliminal message. Your thoughts slowly unmuddle, thoughts filled with fear and anguish and a night a decade ago where the thunderclouds shadowed the sky and the rain muffled the cries of a little girl, engulfed in her grief and alone, alone, alone for the first time in her world. Alone, always. You lived your life automatically, robotically, like a procession. Brush your teeth, wash your face, study, get a job, eat, feed the cats. With metronomic precision, you plotted the days of your life, because there was no one plotting them for you. After all, your parents died 10 years ago today, and you saw it happen.
The radio was humming softly, a ‘60s love song, a feminine crooning high note. The fog enveloped the streets, and the lights were soft and blurry. All you remember is your mother’s laughter and the feeling of the wind whipping your hair around before you crashed and your world forever changed. You had never held a beating human heart in your hand before, but now you desperately clutched it, squeezing rhythmically and praying as hard as you could. They’ll come for me, for us and they’ll save us, they have to. It was futile. A useless endeavour, for when they did come, they brought two vinyl body bags, a red lollipop, and a ride to a teaching hospital that smelt like stale sanitizer.
You can taste it now too. Strawberry. Coating your tongue, your cheeks with its saccharineness, sickly and perfumy and artificial. You hold in your gags as overwhelming nausea arises. Sylus kisses your forehead. Your tears trail down the sides of your cheeks and you hug him back and you cry. It’s nice. You haven’t cried in a long time. You don’t think you’ve ever sobbed loudly, without stuffing your mouth shut or telling yourself to be quiet or calling yourself an attention seeker, even if you’re alone in a dark bathroom and no one is coming for you. “Sylus, I need to tell you something”, you murmur, lifting your head and speaking against his throat.
His breath catches, and you can feel his pulse quicken, but he simply responds “Go ahead kitten” and kisses the top of your head. “It’s a story I’ve told you before, but I didn’t tell you a certain detail. It was raining when it happened. Thundering in fact. I really hate thunder. It’s pretty obvious right now so… I just wanted to say I’m sorry. I didn’t want to make you stay with me. I’m truly so so–”. He cuts you off before you can finish. “Is there any reason for you to be sorry right now?”
You balk at his question, but hastily respond “No I don’t know… but I wanted to apologize to you”
“You don’t ever have to apologize to me. Ever. Especially not when you’ve done nothing except endure your pain by yourself. Give it to me. Let me share your suffering, as I share my love. Let me be your rock, your anchor. Let me be the one you come to when times are rough. Let me kiss you and hold you and tell you that everything will be alright. Because it will. And there’s nowhere in this space time continuum that I’d rather be than in this moment with you. That’s the fabric of the entire universe”
“You’re such an astrophysics nerd” You breathily laugh, gazing into his deep vermillion eyes. “And I still love you”. Dimples. You gasp in surprise as he rolls you, biting your neck playfully and smothering you with kisses.
“Say it again. Please” he hums, laughing. You tap your chin as if in thought “Hmm, I don’t know if I can. I guess you’ll have to beg for it”. He chuckles darkly “Is that how it’s going to be? Because I’m not above begging”
You grab his shirt and pull him closer, whispering ‘I love you’s against his lips, because in this moment, this universe, everything, he is the only thing that exists to you. He cuddles you, covering you with a blanket and admonishing you “Now sleep. It’s 3 am”. You drift off into a deep dreamless sleep in the arms of your home.