A.N.: Taking a short break from my "Relationship Problems" story to get some of the creative juices flowing! I was listening to Ghost on a Wire by Luke Wade and the Civilians while writing this and it's inspired by a quote from Stephanie La Motta. Short and fluffy.
The sound of thunder rolling above was a distant roar in the quiet stillness of Flaky's bedroom. It was calm, peaceful, the sound of Flippy's steady breathing lulling sleep into her eyes. She was on her side as was Flippy, lazily sprawled out beside him on top of the sheets. It was a dry, humid summer night and all the blankets were in a pile on the floor.
This had become a routine. Every few weeks or so, Flippy would spend a night at her house, sometimes out of the blue or after a date. Since two months ago, when Flaky had called him in tears, he had been obsessing over her getting adequate sleep.
Flaky couldn't sleep without noise. Ever since she was a little girl, she had found silence so unbearably loud in her head that she had developed a phobia of it. She used everything; CDs, DVDs, cassette tapes, a noise machine, to keep the quiet of night time away. She was only able to sleep when it was completely and totally drowned out. And one month ago, Flaky had tripped over the cord of the noise machine on her night stand, sending it crashing to the floor and breaking into pieces. Her electricity bill would sky rocket if she resorted to the TV and her music tapes were all unraveled in their old age, and she was now devoid of all her usual sleep techniques. She tried hopelessly for two nights to try and sleep on her own, but after several chronic panic episodes amounting to absolutely no rest at all, she had called Flippy, sobbing into the phone as she explained everything. That night he was at her door, breathless, worried and ragged, knowing he wouldn't feel peace until he knew she was okay, until he knew she was safe and warm in her bed. And she had welcomed him eagerly, crushing herself to him and thanking him for his announcement to stay.
They had awkwardly tried sleeping in separate rooms at first, but when that irrevocably failed they tried to sleep together on the sofa. Several mornings of cricked necks and sore limbs later, they had found themselves in Flaky's bed.
The intimate idea of spending the night with someone embarrassed them both, and social etiquette usually associated nights together with sex. But they soon found they didn't care in those quiet moments in the middle of the night, when they were comfortable and relaxed, sleep completely reachable. They soon forgot all awkwardness and reservations, and soon Flippy was Flaky's key to a good enough night's rest she would be able to sleep on her own for a few more nights. Social grace be damned and all.
Tonight they had turned on the TV and eaten Chinese take out on her bed, sitting and relishing in the simplicity of each other's company. They usually spent hours like this, doing domestic activities like eating and watching TV and shopping for groceries together. What was usually mundane became a release when shared between the two of them. When it had gotten late, they had settled into the pillows and switched off the lights. They talked and whispered and murmured about useless things, their legs barely touching as they sank into the worn out mattress. And then there was silence, and it was the kind Flaky wasn't afraid of at all. The silence that was spent in limbo between consciousness and sleep, the time used to get comfortable and settle in. Flaky had closed her eyes and felt Flippy turn onto his side, dipping and turning until settling again, turning his back to her. A few seconds later, there was a muffled, "Oh." And Flippy turned back around to face her.
"Sorry," he whispered.
And Flaky's chest was soaring at the tenderness Flippy sometimes surprised her with. She smiled at him, edging closer to nuzzle into the space between his neck and shoulder, breathing in the scent that was specifically his. Fabric softener, detergent, sweat and musk, warmth off of cool skin. It was Flaky's lullaby.
Flippy cradled her head gently, holding her head as if he could hold onto the night, saying a few incoherent words into her hair before going still and drifting to sleep. Flaky took the moment to listen to the steady thrum of his heart beat, the coolness of the sheets countering the warmth the contact their skin made. Flaky was never more complete in any moments but these.
And in the morning, they ate breakfast and saw each other off. It was simple and yet oh so complex in the way it dictated their lives. It wasn't always easy, and sometimes they didn't agree. Sometimes they saw different ways and life threw obstacles at them that made times rough. The past and future scared them both sometimes and they had no idea in hell where or what they were doing. Flippy was sometimes slow to show his feelings and sometimes avoided uncomfortable things. Flaky sometimes stumbled her way through things and made things a clumsy mess. Flippy was sometimes still hardened on the inside and Flaky was sometimes a little too fragile. But when mixed together, they became stable. And with each momentary kiss they shared, it was an unspoken promise.
Stay with me.