(Brazilian Portuguese)
-The act of tenderly running your fingers through someone's hair-
~
I remember that one time when your head was cradled to my stomach as I lay in a fetus-like position. Your arms were wrapped around my middle, your knees behind my own and we were drowned in our own silent world of simplicity yet tangled in a complex knot of our limbs. Scantily clothing clung to our skin for the heat invaded our peaceful world, but still our breaths mingled into one and I lost my fingers in your hair. You hummed lazily in your sleep, I noticed. And I loved it.
As an experiment, I stopped combing through your locks only for your head to rise idly to meet my eyes with a fixed frown. I gave a silent laugh and commenced the soothing exercise you saw as a personal lullaby. To an outsider, we looked like two people in love (which we were) without a hitch in our lived (which isn't true). Since in our current daze, we looked so serene, so young. Nothing like our problematic lives filled with turns we know not the ending to. Because that's what being a demigod is about, living a life in-between two things and facing problems for the worst of both worlds.
Except not now, not here. Here was me, now was you. And, as I ran my hands tenderly through your hair, we were the halves of our own whole.
