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He's tense. He can't sleep. Back laying against the soft sheet, the comfortable mattress. Under warm covers. He finds his lungs clenching tightly, exhaling a tad, trying not to be audible.
'How am I supposed to breathe?'
His shining black pupils crack open a tad. He knows he shouldn't hold his breath, but he's finding it hard to take in air. He listens to the quiet. Then, someone else's quiet breathing.
He exhales, opening his eyes a little more and slowly gazes over to his left.
You were there. Laying with your back faced to him, sound asleep. Or at least, you looked asleep. He gulps.
This wasn't the first night you two slept in the same bed. In fact, these past few weeks you've been acclimating to his bed and sleep pattern. He's been trying to get used to it. After all, couples do tend to share the same bed, regardless of what would or wouldn't occur. Gosh, that made him even more stiff. He shook his head. Take it slow; You both agreed.
He tries to relax, turning to his side to face you, and hesitantly touches your still frame, fingertips brushing the fabric on your back. No response.
He pauses. He watches you closer, and you continue to breathe at a calm pace.
He still can't believe he belongs to you. That this was even feasible ever since his first love passed. But no, you were here, you were with him, you promised you would stay. He felt blessed. He swallows the lump in his throat.
He wants to speak, but finds he can't for now.
His hand moves to scratch at your waistline, his other hand finding your doll hair sprawled upon your pillow and his. He stops again. Your breath stills for a moment.
He can feel the warmth tingling the sides of his neck. Digging up the thought of how your eyes glow when you usually stare at him on the couch, or standing up.
Your (and his) favorite pastime was cuddling, whenever you found it appropriate and comforting to. Cuddling on the couch was easy, while standing playful, sitting side by side relaxing. But now? He's finding it so hard.
He wants to, to find that easiness; Sometimes, he wants to make you his religion, his collision, his escapegoat. It sounded selfish. He wasn't used to being selfish.
Your body falls with an exhale, a silent permission.
He lets a hand smooth over just below your chest, the other hand once on the waistline, flattening out and setting on your right inguinal fold. His fingers are lax against below that. Middle finger tapping...
You inhale through your nose a little audibly. If he wasn't sure you were awake he knows you are now. Has he found your secret weak spot?
He shifts his palm up, fingers now across your waistline. The anxiety weighs heavy in his chest and dares not scoot closer, to complete the gap. He flushes the lightest bit.
You hum a chuckle, silently telling him it's okay.
He's ashamed in how difficult he's making this. He loves to cuddle with you, he loves the feeling of being close to you. So why is the hesitancy so high now?
He whispers, the humility sprinkled in the back of his throat.
"Can you pretend I'm amazing?"
You blink, eyes opening with surprise.
He squints, shame in his thoughts as he lets one slip out of his lips. "I can pretend I'm amazing."
'Instead of what we both know.'
You frowned, not having to hear that other thought out loud to know what he was thinking then.
Like he's cutting to the punchline of his hesitancy, his touch gets a little firmer. "Can we pretend I'm amazing? Instead of what we both know." He whispers it so quietly. You can feel him almost lift his hands off.
Instead you turn over to face him. And his pupils shine with surprise, arms shifting back to him. Like he was caught off guard by your action. You stare at him with a kind, soft expression. "You are amazing. It's okay. Go as slow as you need."
His face gets softer. Your patience was clear, but so too was your pining. Longing.
Laying in this bed, he felt like your histories were for sale. You'd been waiting longer than he has in these feelings, before you even got together you'd been waiting for him. In his eyes, his slow response, even after realizing his feelings, was unacceptable.
He looks downcast, avoiding looking at your chest for obvious reasons. "And for that, I apologize." He feels like he owes you that much at least.
You sigh, deciding to try to make it easier for him by carefully moving your hand in front of you to under his cheek, set on the pillow. "Don't. I know you."
That seemed to melt something in his anxiousness, and he finds his arms delicately wrapping around your upper and lower body. You welcome the embrace openly, wrapping your arms around his frame as well. He pulls you close, your head resting just below his shoulder, minding the blanket atop the both of you, shielding from the outside world.
"You're my only know how." He admits sheepishly, thanking you for your previous touch that inspired him to act. You giggled.
Abruptly you recalled how silly your crush on the archeologist was before. "The study of when you believed you belonged to him" you could title it. Not self-entitlement to him, or that you could "fix" anything about him, far from it. You just knew you wholeheartedly loved him, and wanted him to be loved. It being you would have just been a fantastic bonus.
How lucky it was then he admitted to have fancied you too. He valued you more than anything. He's made you (in his mind) into something more delicious than could be described. Well...
His sweet ghost couldn't ever be beat. But it could be matched.
His fingers glided along your spine, stroking at your tailbone.
That made you shiver with pleasure, and you hummed contently into his ear, reciprocating his tender touch with your own, rubbing down his hips.
He chuckled, recalling your previous anxious response prior. Now more relaxed, he whispers a light flirtatious remark.
"So have I found your secret weak spot?" He soo wanted to add the pet name baby to it, you were immediately sure.
You giggled, letting your cheeks get a tinted pink. Gosh he's such a dork.
He lets his hands roam your skin over your clothing, paying attention to every wrinkle, every exposed piece of skin he lingers on and massages lightly. You even let his hand slip under the bottom of your shirt so he can trace your back better. You breathe out a happy sigh, closing your eyes, one of your hands playing with a tuft of hair from behind his head. You can feel his movements slow, as do yours.
"Can you pretend I'm amazing?" His breath is on your cheek, your ear, your neck. His eyes closed. Now he's just asking out of sillyness.
You chortle, speaking low and drowsy. "I can pretend I'm amazing..."
He chuckles back at your playful demeanor, the sleepiness lacing his voice to be deep.
"Instead of what we both know?"
You shuffle in his arms, your bodies becoming absolutely flush with one another. Clothed skin on skin.
If you weren't so tired you would have pinched his shoulder. Since when was he the one quipping? On the other hand, you would agree he is amazing. You said so just a few minutes ago. Was it minutes?
"I cut to the punch line, baby." You can feel the blush radiate from his cheeks from your response. You press your cheek against his.
"Can't we pretend we're both amazing then? To settle." You can feel the sleep taking you away.
He agrees, not letting the joking repeat of "Instead of what we both know?" To even cross his mind. He holds you tight, never wanting to let go.
He lets his conscious slip away, whispering. "Sure thing, love."
'I'm so sorry... for not getting here sooner.'
There it goes... His insecurity had long since retreated from his headspace.
Back over there...