i. safe and sound
i remember tears streaming down your face
when i said, "i'll never let you go,"
when all those shadows almost killed your light
She sweeps her gaze over the breadth of distance between her side of the tent and his. He lies on his back, rigid in sleep as he is in consciousness. The rise and fall of his chest calms her, a sort of constant confirmation that he is here with her. Privately, she fears that she might blink and he will disappear. But he has a heart and a set of lungs, not different from her own, and he'd almost certainly mock her if what kept each of them up at night was laid down side by side.
She hates that she is more at ease with him when he is asleep. It makes her feel weak, especially since no one else on their team seems to flinch at his presence. The medical scroll in her hands is useless at this point. Her attention is elsewhere, but it was worth a shot. Even in the middle of a war that will determine the fate of the world, she can't break such an old habit. She spent her years of solitude under the tutelage of a master that equals his own, yet she doesn't know why she feels so small.
He shifts onto his side, with his face to her. When he stills, the low light casts a strange glow on his complexion. For the moment, he looks peaceful and childlike. She is a woman drawn to catastrophe, accustomed to scenes of after the damage and before the remedy, scenes of in-between. She knows what a face looks like when it twists in grief. Still, despite all of the demons he carries, he looks peaceful and childlike.
The atmosphere starts to suffocate her, so she quietly exits. It astounds her, how conflict has these intervals of untroubled silence. She walks down the wide lane of the camp, aware of her comrades' faint chakra signatures. Gradually, she starts to think of him again, and she finds humor in the fact that he is eternally with her whether she wants him to be or not. She wonders what it will be like when the war is over, when the memorials are built in place of those that lie at rest beneath.
"Why are you out here?"
"I could ask you the same question."
She turns a little, enough so that she sees him in her peripheral. His hair is messy and his clothes are wrinkled, and it is so unlike himself that she nearly smiles.
"I saw you leave."
She lifts a shoulder in admittance. "I don't sleep well."
"You shouldn't be out here."
It takes her a few seconds to comprehend that this is how he shows his concern. She offers him honesty. "I'll be fine."
Neither of them speak after that, but he doesn't go back to the tent. Instead, he settles into the space next to her. Tomorrow will come with mountains for them to climb, but none of that matters currently. It is simply him and her, a boy and a girl, in time to see another sunrise.
