"Breathe"
Chapter One
By Sinclair
Standard Disclaimers Apply
Save --
Save me from this
Wandered round the town, all the thousand things I might miss
And you --
Think we'll suffer much?
Think we'll close our eyes, just to see the light pass us by?
With tomorrow coming, hope that I don't let you down again,
Said I'm so glad to be here, does it mean a thing?
So sit --
We'll take our time,
Watching the flowers grow, all the friends we've known say goodbye.
And you?
Did you suffer much?
Did you close your eyes, just to see the night pass rush on by?
Gathered all around you, hope that we don't let you down again,
Said I'm so glad to be here, but does it mean a thing?
If only I could breathe what you breathe,
If only I could see what you see,
If only I could just believe a thing.
--"Breathe" Moist
He was definitely in one of his moods that day, she thought to herself, tears creeping into her eyes as she stared at him from the doorway. He stood by the large windows overlooking the sparkling expansive ocean and the setting sun. His black hair shone brilliantly in the dying sun, his back turned to her, his hands tightly fisted in his pockets. She wished she could see his dark somber blue eyes, so she could see what he was feeling. But then again she could easily guess what he was thinking at the moment, she thought to herself, a pang suddenly gripping her heart. He was thinking of her. He always thought of her, but today especially because today was the anniversary of the day that he had lost her. She could tell that he was eyeing the lake's waters with contempt, with sadness. When he was like this, he wasn't himself, and it was best to leave him alone.
She held back a desperate sigh, and slowly left her husband alone before he could figure out that she had been watching him. She knew that she had been lucky when Darien had fallen in love with her, as she took care of him in her days as a nurse. She also knew that this marriage couldn't be real, not as long as he kept her memories around. She had been a dark beauty, like Darien. They had been high school sweethearts, in love to the day she died. From pictures that she was never meant to see, she knew that she had had long silky black hair, and big beautiful violet eyes. She was in short beautiful, the perfect counterpart to her handsome husband. As she walked into the kitchen to prepare dinner, she unconsciously touched her own golden locks. She was the complete opposite of Raye, she thought to herself. She was light all around, with her blond hair, and her sky blue eyes. How could she ever compare to such a perfect woman? How could Darien have even ever wanted to marry her? Tears began to fall from her eyes in little crystal drops, and she cut her finger with the knife that she had been using for the vegetables. Immediately she cried out and put her finger in her mouth. She couldn't take this oppressive silence hurried to the bathroom.
"Serena?" she heard a voice call as she passed by the study. "What's the matter? You're crying?" She looked up to see Darien's face looking into hers, concern and worry etched in his smooth features. Her head instantly came down and instead she stared intently at the smooth varnished wooden floors.
"Oh, it's nothing. I was just chopping some onions, and then I cut my finger. Silly me, as usual!" she said, trying to laugh at the same time. Before he could say anything else, she continued hurriedly to the bathroom where she could get a band-aid.
Shutting the door behind her, she slumped against the tiles. Safe from Darien's intense gaze, she allowed herself to sob quietly. She didn't want him to know how she hurt; it would just make him feel worse, when he already felt so terribly.
"Serena?" Darien's voice sounded hesitant on the other side of the door. "Are you sure you're alright?" Was that genuine worry? She smiled through her tears. No doubt he cared about her, she thought. But then she frowned. It's just that he loved her more.
"I'll be out in a minute, I- just can't find the band-aids, that's all," she called out the most cheerful voice she could muster. "I'm sorry, dinner might be a little late. Why don't you wait in the living room? Watch a little T.V. and I promise dinner will be ready really soon." She could tell by the silence that he was hesitating, so she continued. "Really, Darien, I'll live - it's just a little blood. Nothing a little water won't wash off." She heard a sigh and then an affirmation as he walked off. She then sighed, and hastily stood up to wash her face off, ridding the evidence of tears, and then taking care of her finger.
By the time she was in the kitchen, her cheerful mask was back on, and she was humming a little tune as she finished setting the table. "Dinner's ready!" she called.
They ate silently at first, until Serena could no longer stand it. But as she made idle chatter, she noticed that Darien wasn't really listening, just nodding his head every now and then, lost in his own thoughts. After a while, she gave up, knowing that she could not get her out of his mind no matter what she did. After she had finished she abruptly stood up.
"I'm pretty tired, I think I am going to get ready for bed," she said. "Just leave the dishes in the sink, I'll get to it tomorrow morning." He merely nodded, absently kissing her cheek and saying goodnight.
She lay in the bed, her full stomach protesting, wondering about their strange marriage. After all, this was a three-person relationship, she thought to herself, the tears pricking the back of her eyes, and a painful lump growing in her throat.
"Stop it!" she whispered aloud harshly to herself. She needed to stop being so jealous, so insecure. But then it was so hard not to be, when Darien was always thinking about his girlfriend, his fiancé. Closing her eyes, she remembered how she had met Darien.
She had worked at the hospital at that time, as a nurse. During a late night shift, a man who had been in a boating accident had been brought in, yelling hysterically and incoherently. She remembered how they had had to sedate him that night, so that he could sleep peacefully. Curious, she had gone into his room, to check up on him. Quietly she had closed the door behind her when suddenly his thick hoarse voice had filled the room.
"She's dead now. I can feel it." And with that, he had sobbed quietly into his hands. She stood there stunned before she moved quickly to his side and cradled his head to her chest, speaking soothing comforting words to him until he finally slept exhausted from the day's events.
That's had been two years ago to this day. She had found out later how that day he had gone out on a boating trip with his fiancé Raye; how suddenly a storm had overcome them, tossing the boat and it's occupants over. He had tried to save her, but he lost sight of her before he himself passed out from swallowing too much of the water. Later that night someone had found him lying unconscious on the shore and had taken him to the hospital. Despite all his efforts, he could not find any news of his beloved fiancé. No hospital near the scene reported a patient that fit that description for months afterward. At first he had been despondent with grief, but slowly Serena had gotten him to join the world again. She taught him how to laugh and enjoy life again. One year after that ordeal, he had asked that she marry him, and they had gotten married shortly after in a small little church. Even then, she had wondered to herself if perhaps he had just married her because she had been the first person there after his loss. Oh, there was no doubt that he cared for her, because he treated her not only with the utmost respect, but also with special tenderness. But a man could treat his little pet dog in the same way.
Shortly after the marriage, she had quit her job as a nurse to stay home and become a housewife; she did not mind in the least because she loved to take care of the man she loved. When he had recovered physically from the accident, he had gone back to work at the small computer company that he had founded. They lived in relative peace together, both content. But then there were times he would get into one of those moods. She had no doubt whatsoever that he was thinking of the girl that he had planned to marry. She knew, because she caught him one time looking at an old picture of the two of them together, tenderly touching his fingers to the beautiful pale face that smiled at him. She remembered how she had crept away silently after that to cry in peace. She never let on that she knew what he was doing.
So she always kept a cheerful look on her face, trying to keep the marriage stable, trying to forget that there was always another person, sharing the attention of her husband. There were times, when she felt the bitterness choking her, the injustice filling her blood; but those times were always fleeting. She was never a malicious jealous thing. Everyone always expounded how kind and selfless and loving she was. Instead, she would think of her husband, and how rough the loss of a loved one was on him. She would do her best to make his life better for him. There was no doubt that she loved the man with all her heart and soul, and that she would do anything for him, even if she got hurt in the process.
She lay there, thinking, trying not to cry as she lay there in the dark, when she heard the door opening. She snuck a glance at the clock by her bed and realized that she had been thinking for over two hours. She kept her breathing normal and she heard Darien getting ready for bed before slipping into the covers beside her. In a matter of seconds she heard his breathing level out, indicating that he had fallen asleep.
She turned over to him and gazed at his sleeping features. Tenderly she reached out to run a hand through his hair. Then she touched his cheek and pressed her lips to his lovingly.
"I wish you were mine, Darien," she whispered to him, and buried herself in his chest and tried to fall asleep.