Inspired by Lullaby by Spill Canvas, check out the song if you want.
While you were sleeping I figured out everything,
I was constructed for you, and you were molded for me.
Now I feel your name, coursing through my veins.
You shine so bright it's insane, you put the sun to shame.
You look down at her.
Her head rests in your lap. Her soft curls caressing the skin exposed by way your shirt had risen over the hours. Her even breath warming a patch of skin on your thigh.
The rest of her body is curled up on the couch. Her knees nearly touching her chest in an attempt to keep her feet on the cushions. Her fingers stubbornly cling to the book she had been reading before dozing off.
You lightly move some of her hair, and simply take in the purity of her allowing you to be with her at her most exposed state.
She looks so peaceful in sleep. The burdens of her job, her memories, her life, have melted away, leaving her in her most basic form.
Words start to tumble from your lips. Nonsensical lyrics from various lullabies of your youth strung together in an ever changing tune. Your voice is hardly above a whisper. The words slip out with your breaths.
As the words fall and coat her, you start to process exactly what it is you are feeling.
Truthfully, you aren't sure what it is, but you know where to find it.
It is in the little things she does. The way she constantly rubs the back of her neck. The way she tries so hard to maintain her image of not eating sugar, then sneaks a few cookies from each batch. The way she lets Claudia beat her in poker, but never lets Pete win.
It is in the way she handles the world around her. The awkward grace she possesses. The way she can trip up the stairs one moment and take on a man twice her size the next. The way she allows the world to view her however she wants to be viewed. The way she allows no other view to exist except to those who truly know her.
It is in the way she interacts with you. The way she laughs, no matter how unfunny your joke was. The way she can convince you to do anything for her. The way she unknowingly makes it feel as though you have to earn even a second of her time.
It is in the way you feel when you see her. The way your stomach clenches at her smile. The way you want to impress her with everything you do. The way she has invaded your every thought.
But, no. It does not matter how you feel. She is a creature made perfect by her imperfections. She is not a perfect mold. She is what the mold for other humans is based off of. She shines brightly against the dark world. A star living amongst black holes.
You. You are a machine. A manufactured creature of wires and tubing. You clunk through life trying to pass as a piece of art, when you are nothing but a mechanical failure. You feel as though someone had tried to construct you specifically for her, but had failed miserably.
You cannot compare to her. You are sharp where she is smooth. You rust while she lasts through the ages. She inspires awe in everyone, including you. You inspire fear in everyone, excluding her.
You would do anything for her. She simply needs to ask. You know and accept this fact.
You would do anything for the one you love.
The flow of words from your lips stops. The tune in your head skips to a stop.
Love? You love her?
You have not taken your eyes off of her face the entire time you have been sitting there. You have been watching her eyes move beneath their lids. You have been watching a strand of hair sway with her breathing.
Yes. You love her.
You guess you will have to handle her not loving you.
You look around the room. There is no light coming through the window, not even the moon. You glance at your watch. You have been watching her for almost an hour. It would probably be best to get her to her bed.
You reach out and try to pry the book from her hands. You chuckle at the protests she subconsciously puts up at being parted from the book. Her fingers tighten. Her lips pull down into a frown. Her eyebrows furrow.
You manage to liberate the book after a short struggle, and set it down on the side table.
You lift her up, resting her torso back against yours. Her head lolls onto your shoulder. You whisper in her ear that it is time to get her to bed. A few garbled words slip from her mouth as she rouses to a state of semi-sleep, more sleep than awake. You cannot help but smile at how adorable she is when she isn't trying to hide herself.
You drape one of her arms over your shoulder, and slowly lift the two of you to your feet.
Barely conscious enough to stay upright, she leans heavily on you. Her weight, despite being less than you would have expected for someone as tall as her, slows you down considerably. By the time you reached the stairs, she had woken up enough to actually help.
You guide her to her to her room, and set her down on her bed. You pull back her covers while she makes an attempt to not return to sleep sprawled out at the foot of her bed.
When you turn to leave, you are stopped by a hand on your wrist and a mumbled 'stay.' She pulls your arms back towards the bed. You watch as she struggles to move to the other side of the bed, giving you room to lie down.
You prepare to deny her request, but one glance at her sleep ridden gaze and you are lost. You climb onto the bed, and let her throw the covers over you.
You plan on keeping space between the two of you, but she ruins that plan in her perfect way by scooting close to you and wrapping her arms around your waist. Her hands grab your hips for a moment, directing you to roll onto your side.
You find yourself facing her. Her eyes are watching you through half-opened lids.
She mumbles something about singing again, and you realize that she had been at least partially awake downstairs. A slight blush coats your cheeks. Her smile grows slightly.
You are lost in her. Her body against yours. Her arms draped over you. Her breath hitting your lips. Her scent washing over you. She can get you to do anything.
You open your mouth, and the song starts to flow again. She smiles through her exhaustion, and moves even closer to you. Her head dips beneath your chin, her face against your shoulder and neck.
You feel her lips lightly kiss your skin, right over the clasp for Christina's locket, which had moved during the night.
Slowly, her body relaxes and her breathing evens out.
Perhaps your first observation her been incorrect. Perhaps she did return the love you felt for her.
Perhaps you had been constructed for her. Perhaps you had been built right.
And, perhaps, just perhaps, she had been crafted for you.
You continue to sing.
You would sing all night for her if she asked.
I own nothing