(ohgodwhydidiwritethis)
Inside, There is a Fire
~by JERUSALEM's Bride
she's laying on her bed listening to the slowly turning ceiling fan. she can't sleep. she can't anything. inside her head is red and orange and swirling leaping heat and why why why-
her bedroom door opens and there is hiro, pillow hanging from his hand. he's framed by the streetlamp from the window at the end of the hall. she has to squint because while inside her head it is sparks and glowing coals and ashes, outside, in her room it is dark. not even starlight through her tightly pulled curtains. she can't make out his face.
he says her name, soft in the dark.
what's wrong, she asks him.
he had – well, it's just... he couldn't – could he maybe, that is – would she mind... if... he...
the words tumbling from his mouth peiter out and he just stands there dejectedly, pillow clutched to his chest.
she pulls the covers back and scoots over. come here, is all she says, patting the mattress.
he does.
he shuts the door and it's completely dark now. she can't see him, can only hear his feet shuffling across the carpet to her bed. he lays down, still hugging the pillow and she pulls the blankets over both of them. he curls into a ball against her chest. she tucks his head under her chin and cards her fingers through his hair. she can feel his breath against her collarbone, small and ragged. he hesitantly places a hand on her shoulder and she holds him tighter.
she had never thought that her nephew would feel this small to her again. it is painful and yet she can't help but feel a little hopeful because it means he still needs her. she hates this feeling. hates that it makes the light inside her dim, and less painful. she hates herself.
the two of them curl into each other, seeking comfort. they stay like that all night.
but neither of them gets any sleep.
~fin~
LET ME TELL YOU how much I cried writing this. LET ME TELL YOU.