In the Air
I'm lying in bed. In his bed. His. My lower back hurts. I don't realize this until I try to roll over. Try. Instead, as soon as my muscles flex, I groan and slump back onto the pillows. His pillows. I turn my head, a bit too quickly it seems; my head hurts. Focusing my eyes, I notice that he isn't here. That's strange. He's always here. I couldn't have slept that long… Could I? I take inventory; after all, what else can I do with out moving much? The sheets are tangled around my legs; they lay across my hipbones, exposing my chest to the air. The fan is off. The toys are silent, also off. He's gone. To where? I have no idea. I'm inclined to be mad. What time is it? I think about getting up, if only to check the clock. I flex the muscles in my lower back experimentally. I wince. Time? Out of the question. I want out of bed… I sigh. Count the seconds.
One
Two
Three
Four
Five
Six
Seven
Eight
Nine
Ten
Eleven
Twelve
Thirteen
Fourteen
Fifteen
Sixteen
Seventeen…
…Eighteen…
… … Nineteen …
…
…
…
…
…
…
The door creaks when it opens. That's my first thought. The noise. Someone opened the door. And that's my second. I blink blearily. Who…? The bed shifts under someone's weight. It continues to shift as someone comes closer. My head turns towards someone slowly, remembering the past ache. He's leaning over me, legs on his side with his arms on either side of my head. He leans down slowly, peering into my eyes. I tense but I don't pull away. Both our eyes remain open as he ghosts his lips over mine. It's so soft that I relax, closing my eyes and lifting my arms to the back of his neck. I twist my fingers in his hair, not pulling but tugging. He pulls back and smiles at me. Smiles. I feel the heat rising to my cheeks and I avert my gaze. Don't look at me like that! A smile tugs at my lips too. I can't help it. Not when it's him. He rests his weight on one hand, the side where his legs aren't, and uses the other to brush my cheek with his knuckles. My eyes meet his. Soft. Everything is so soft. His eyes, his mouth, his hand, his… his everything. His hand trails down my body, rests just above the sheet. Strokes the skin. Slowly. Softly. It feels good. I want him to kiss me again. My eyes flicker to his mouth. He sees and smiles again. Our lips touch again. Just like before. Fire without the flame. Peaceful. And when he pulls back to rest his head on my chest, above my heart, I don't protest. I can't, not now. His hand is still moving. Caressing the skin. My skin. I feel my heart speed up with that thought. I feel his smile in response. Feel his kiss. Feel him. One of my hands move to run through his hair. So soft. I close my eyes. My breathing slows. His does too. Relaxed… No words. Speech is obsolete. Unnecessary. We both understand this as sleep overtakes us.
Where were you?
It doesn't matter. I'm here now.
What were you doing?
Does it even matter?
No… It doesn't matter.