I initially started this as the introduction to chapter 5 of my "Road to recovery" multi-chapter, but never got round to publishing it, or to even half-finish that fic. But I loved this scene so much, I just had to write it, and decided in the end to publish it as a stand-alone story.
It's the morning after the hand-hold reconciliation (so a really long time ago now...).
Hope you enjoy x
Home
I feel myself slowly drifting back to consciousness and realize that I'm not on the wicker sofa any more, but in the soft comforts of a bed. Our bed.
His arm is wrapped tightly around my waist, his strong frame supports my back, his soft breath tickles my neck. I smile. I don't want to open my eyes. I want to lie here and relish in this feeling just a bit longer. I missed this so much. I missed him so much. Christian.
I don't know how long I'm lying here, still half asleep, my eyes closed. I listen to the morning, the world outside slowly coming back to life. But the only thing I'm really aware of is that arm around me, that kind heart beating so strongly beside mine. I want to feel like this forever. So safe. So loved.
When I open my eyes at last, still unfocussed, I catch a glimpse of a familiar image on the bed side table, and my heart skips a beat. I'm suddenly wide awake. Our photo, me and him, pride of place, next to the bed. On the right, I realize immediately, because Christian always sleeps on his right side, and our photo would be, like it is for me now, the first thing he sees when he opens his eyes. I feel my eyes prickle with emotion. I wondered yesterday. I noticed it straightaway when I stepped into the flat, that the frame with our picture wasn't there, in its usual place. I didn't say anything about it, but it hurt. More than I was willing to admit. Where was it? Why did Christian put it away, hide it… throw it out…? I had kept it there throughout my time alone, our time apart – I couldn't stop looking at it, reminding myself of this wonderful love I knew… and lost. It broke my heart, but I needed to look at it. I had to.
Did I mean so little to Christian that he couldn't even stand to look at my face on a photo?
I should have known better, of course. Christian put it here. Because I mean so much. Because like me, he needed it close. Not to forget.
I look at it now and remember the moment. We hadn't been together long, and we'd gone on one of our "dates". Christian insisted we went on dates, because we never had them before, only sneaky stolen moments. We went to Brighton for the day, ice cream on the pier, gorgeous street food from a market stall, and long walks on the beach. Christian was snapping away, giddy as a child, taking photos of everything that grabbed his attention, and despite my protestations mostly of me. I'm so self-conscious, I hate having my picture taken. I always look like a deer in the headlights of an oncoming car... I was flustered, out of breath, from laughing too much, from trying to keep up with him, my hair was wild and messy from the sea breeze, but Christian insisted I never looked more stunning. I almost believed him.
With his eyes dancing, the blush on his cheeks, the joy etched on his beautiful face, I thought the same of him.
He asked a lady on the pier to take a pic of us together. I protested of course, but he wouldn't take no for an answer, and pulled me close in a hug. "I'm so happy, Sy" he breathed in my ear "so bloody happy!" I could feel the smile rising inside me from some place deep in my heart, I could feel it light up my face. And when I look at that photo today and see that smile in my eyes, I know exactly how I felt, how we both felt, that day, that moment, that exact second.
So bloody happy.
I remember other moments, another bed, another photo on the bed side table. It still grates at my heart. I remember waking up next to her, my body rigid from lack of sleep and muscles aching from the effort of desperately trying to keep to my side of the bed, as far apart from her as I could. I could stand most of it, I could keep up the act, but I couldn't bear the touching. I didn't want her to feel me flinch at her touch, the accidental or the intentional. Waking up every morning by her side, hurting physically and emotionally, our wedding photo would the first thing I'd see. Every day. Forcing me, with each new dawn, to face the reality of my miserable life.
The look in my eyes on that wedding photo still haunts me. How no one else could see it, is a mystery to me. I looked like a trapped animal. Behind the obligatory smile, that never reached my eyes, there's only fear. And panic. Please. Please get me out of here.
Today everything is so different. Here I am, right where I want to be, in the arms of the one person who knows me better than I know myself. This man, who makes me so bloody happy.
I can't lie still anymore, with my back to him. I need to see him. Carefully I disentangle myself from his grasp, to turn around to face him. He stirs, but doesn't wake. As I snuggle close again, his arms instinctively pull me in. I could lie here for the rest of my days, looking at him sleep, and I'd die a happy man. He is so beautiful.
It suddenly dawns on me that we didn't kiss yesterday. In fact, we haven't kissed since that fatal November day when everything went so horribly wrong, and he left. It pains me to admit it, but I don't consciously remember our last kiss – how could I know it would be the last one? I cursed myself a hundred times during the time we were apart, for not paying more attention, for not putting more care and love in that kiss, for not making it more memorable – so that I would remember. Each kiss you share with the one you love is precious, but a last kiss is something you never want to forget. Our last kiss however was just a kiss, instinctive, casual, fleeting... like a thousand of our kisses before it. And I couldn't remember it. The thought of that was almost unbearable. Nothing of what happens between Christian and me, deserves to be dismissed as casual or fleeting.
Thankfully now, I get another chance.
I look at him closer, take in every detail of his gorgeous face. Shall I? Last night was too soon, too raw, too… strange somehow – but we talked for hours, we sorted it out, he is my Christian again, I am his Sy, and I really want to kiss him… I know I'll probably wake him and I'm not sure I want to do that, but... it just feels so right, I can't hold back.
I lean in and kiss the tip of his nose. He twitches, stirs, but sleeps on, and I giggle a little. But then his mouth, his soft lips slightly open, are calling my attention, irresistibly. Holding my breath, I gently press my lips to his, just for a second, as light as a butterfly. The touch makes me tingle all over, to the tips of my toes, and I can't stop myself, I need to do it again. I soon forget to be careful. My tongue explores the inside of his lips, begging entrance to his mouth. I become bolder, press against him harder, deeper. Everything else disappears; I'm losing myself in the moment… in him.
Then I feel him start, his breath hitches, his eyes fly open. Not losing contact, I smile against his mouth as I see realization dawn on him. But he catches on quick and within seconds he kisses me back. His hands curl around the back of my head and draw me closer. The kiss is slow, deep, intimate, intense, never-ending… memorable. Definitely memorable.
When breathing becomes harder, we finally have to pull apart. But only slightly.
"Hi gorgeous" I whisper. He still hasn't come down to earth completely, but his eyes twinkle with mischief and love.
"My Sy" he sighs contentedly.
We don't say anything else, we just lie there, my face still in his hands, our lips only inches apart, and look at each other. We were always able to say everything we needed to say without having to speak a word, and this is one of those times. Despite everything that happened over the last few months, it's still there, that magic between us, we didn't lose it. Unspeakable relief washes over me when I realize that. I put my head down on his chest, breathe him in. His arms fold around me protectively.
I'm home.
