~o~O~o~
"Julie."
Louison's voice, like a ghost's, calls her name a second, a third time, till she wakes. She realizes the voice is not of dreams as alongside the wall the recovering pipes still faintly vibrate with the memory of his articular visitation.
Reaching for her glasses, she sees in the face of her alarm that it is 1:56 a.m. Leaning to the mouth of the pipe, she whispers into it his name in the way of a curse, lest her father hear.
"Please... in my room," she hears as his response, and her heart all but dies.
It is night. It is on the mind of night. In the night of mind. In the moon, the skies; it calls. Always.
No. He wouldn't...
But he might. He might. She must go.
She briefly feels a sense of terror accompanying the thought of descending the stairs to his room, but catches hold of herself, repeating a mantra in her mind: My father won't let me be killed. My father won't let me be eaten. Everyone but me.
Julie leaves her bed, throws over her body the nearest dress, green, combs her hair, applies a small amount of make-up and slips from her room. She wears no shoes.
When she reaches his apartment, she finds the door unlocked. How regretful it is that he is so trusting. She will have to risk reminding him of his mother by telling him that the world is dark. Though, she won't go into how extensively dark it is.
Pushing gently, the door swings open. "Louison?" Julie looks from her left to right, trying to find him. In dull light, the room appears empty. She stops breathing in order to hear him shuffle about in the dark, but her fear soars so that the sounds of her beating heart seem to fill the room.
What if they...?
With the beginning thought of death his location is revealed with a soft snore. Julie discovers in an instant that he has fallen asleep fully clothed above the covers of his bed. His suspenders remain over the shoulders of his sweater, the knees of his brown trousers creased as his legs bend. "Julie..." he says again, in a voice distorted by sleep.
She creeps forward, the wooden floor rough beneath her feet, and stops beside his bed, looking down on his sleeping face. With lips parted, he reminds her of a child. So far away. So unlike the others. In his fingers he has his wind-up monkey, and as she comes closer, he seemingly feels her presence, as his nails move over the monkey's tin leg, causing it to twitch once with stored energy.
"Livingstone," he whispers.
"Julie," she says in reply, making sure he knows who it is in his room. His old friend will visit him another time.
His face a blur, she sees only his lips as they turn to a grin.
Thinking of me he smiles.
She bends and touches her lips to his cheek, pressing lightly so not to wake him. She's met by stubble, and after she's left his skin, she still feels the pins of hair in specks move over the thinness covering her teeth.
She backs away and in her possession of mind she runs into a table to the side, knocking over first a few books then his glass of water. Not wanting to be found, she runs to the door and quickly closes it behind. Her bare feet soundlessly depart.
Louison wakes abruptly from his dreams. He, in a haze, thinks Julie is still with him by a river, grass surrounding them, Livingstone in the limbs of a tree, but his eyes clear and he sees that he is sadly still in the room he left. Staring ahead, he notices his glass of water is gone as well as his books. Moving to the edge of his mattress, he sees what has happened and believes himself guilty for the fall of his belongings. Raising, he sleepily cleans. Once finished, he drags his feet to the lavatory.
In the mirror he finds a spot of red on his flesh and confusedly turns, examining the mark. It knows it as the outline of a mouth. A kiss.
He places a hand to it in wonder. Had his dreams been real?
~o~O~o~