Tada! Finally the third (and not last) chapter! I promised this one would be less angsty, and, *cough cough*, if you look very closely it is! (a bit, toward the end, I'm sure you'll notice how much effort I've put into this to make it more enjoyable!).
The story will get sweeter as it evolves, I promise (the end of this chapter is just a premisce!).
Anyway, enjoy your reading, and please, let me know what you think! :-)
Chapter 3
A distant humming. Somewhere, far away. I feel numb but, surprisingly, at peace. I haven't felt that way for a long time. A pleasant warmth is enveloping me and the humming is soothing. I can't understand the words, but I understand the meaning they carry. Comfort. Love. Affection. I could stay like this forever, listening to that deep voice, cuddling up with her. This dream is fantastic. For weeks, all I've had were nightmares filled with pain and sadness. I thought that dreaming about her would make things worse than they already were, and I did everything I could to not dream. Reality was hard enough on me. Therefore, I forgot what it was to have a real dream. But all of this feels too good, and for once, I allow myself to give in. I imagine Fang against me, safe, sharing my bed. I imagine her lips on my neck and her arm around my waist. I imagine how she would wake me up – her voice whispering sweet words into my ear, kisses on my cheek, fingers slipping under my tank top. I smile against the pillow as all those images spring in my mind. If I forget that this can never happen, it's not as torturous as I would have first thought.
I inhale deeply, and smile even more when I realize I can also smell her perfume. Just like the humming, it feels distant. But it's enough, because it still reminds me of her. My hand clenches on the sheet, which feels particularly soft under my fingers. I don't remember my sheets being so soft, but it's probably an effect of the dream. Everything just has to be better than reality, right? I remain like this for a long time, allowing myself to relax. I'm not really asleep and yet not really awake, and it feels wonderful. I'm conscious enough to decide what I want to see in my dream, but not enough to prevent my subconscious from adding elements of its own. The mix is rather eerie, but I like it nonetheless – I find the image of Fang and me riding Odin in a sea of stars ridiculously cute. For long minutes, I take my time to appreciate those literally fantastic sights. I feel extremely grateful for this moment of respite. It's far better to dream about Fang living with me than dreaming about me growing old and alone while Fang would still be imprisoned inside the crystal pillar. I sigh of contempt, deciding that if Fang never comes back, I can always relish the memories and dreams I have of her. I know it's going to take some time, but in the end, I'll be able to accommodate to the fact that she's not there anymore. It's all a matter of time.
After some time, I finally emerge, slowly, from this state of half-sleep. The dream eventually gets replaced by the cold reality of things. And my brain connects the dots. I'm in my bed. A cold breeze is blowing on my bare legs. The humming gets louder. The smell of the perfume gets stronger. The warmth doesn't fade. There's an arm across my waist. I become aware of all those things within a second, and suddenly the dream doesn't matter anymore. This is real. Just like what happened this morning, I think against my will. I remember all of it. An injured Fang sleeping on my chair. Hugs. Cries. Punches. All of it. And it was real. The sudden realization hits me hard and I feel a harsh pang. I curl my fingers into two tight fists, and I feel the hurt flesh scream in protest. I really battered her. And she was real. Now I'm sure of it. You are real. Only if you want me to be. The words echo against my skull, and I can't stop it. I don't know what to do. She's here, against me, and I should do something. All I've wanted for weeks was to hug, and kiss, and love her, and now that she's here I'm scared. No. Not scared. I'm terrified. I know I love her, and obviously she now knows about it. But what if she doesn't feel the same? What if she doesn't care about me? Maybe I've been destroying myself little by little and wishing for something that I can't have. And if it's really her, she probably hates me right now. I've hurt her, beaten her so badly, I can still feel her nose crack under my knuckles and her hot blood on my skin. After this, how can she even believe me when I say I love her?
My eyelids flutter open. It's really her, just a few inches away. She's staring at the ceiling, humming softly to herself. I see her face and it makes me want to cry. She's barely recognizable under all those bruises and cuts. It's painful to even just look at it. But it's her. Only if you want me to be.
'I want you to be,' I whisper, my fingers tightening around what I finally acknowledge to be her sari.
The humming stops, and for a second I'm convinced that she's going to disappear. But then, she turns her face toward me, and raises an eyebrow. She doesn't seem to understand what I'm talking about and it pains me to realize that she already has forgotten.
'I want you to be real,' I shyly add, my voice not above a breath. 'Because I miss you, and I can't live without you. Because I'm tired of seeing you everywhere. Because I'm tired of being heart-broken every time you fade away at the touch of a finger. I want you to be real because I love you.'
Silence. What follows is silence. She stares at me, pinching her lips, and I really think she wants to laugh at me for being such a fool. In the end, it would have been better if she wasn't there at all. At least, when she wasn't there, I had hope. I could always imagine that she loved me back and that we could live together, happy. But if she laughs, if she doesn't love me, I would have suffered for all this time for nothing. There's a tight ball of fear and doubt growing in my stomach as I avidly wait for her to say something.
'You're stupid,' she finally breathes.
That's not what I expected. But I understand her reaction. I should have seen that coming. She doesn't even bother looking at me. And I'm grateful she doesn't, because it would have killed me if I'd seen her laugh at my face. It hurts even more than when she wasn't there. Stupid. The word slashes through my heart, because it's the truth. What did I expect? The woman is perfect, she has everything for herself, how could she ever be attracted to grumpy boring Lightning Farron? My world is falling apart. Now I have nothing to wish for, nothing to live for. The last thing that made life worth living is gone, sucked in a black hole. She's here, she's back, and yet I feel like she's more out of reach than she has ever been. I realize I don't even cry. It's no use. I can't feel anything but despise and shame. I've never cried for such feelings because I know I can't blame anyone but myself. And I can't pity myself. I've got too much pride for that –for what it's now worth. I get what I deserve, that's all. I turn on my back and stare at the ceiling, mirroring her postion. Her presence, which I had longed for for weeks, is now unbearable. I just want her to leave. Just go.
'You are so stupid,' she repeats, and it feels like one more stab in my stomach.
'Enough Fang, it's enough,' I whisper, covering my ears with my palms.
I don't want to hear her voice. I want her to be gone. Just go. I close my eyes tightly, feeling the bed sagging as she finally moves. For what seems to be an eternity, I wait. I don't know what I'm waiting for, but I wait nonetheless. There's not a sound, not a perturbation of the ambient air. I'm about to open my eyes when I feel a drop of water splashing on my cheek. Another one on my mouth. Another one on my eyelid. I frown, and when I hear a sharp exhale, my eyes shoot open. She's above me, tears falling like rain from her face. The picture is excruciatingly painful. Fang, who has always been so strong, now looks broken and vulnerable. Not only because of the horrible bruises staining her usually perfect tanned skin, and the cuts, and the swollen flesh. It's also because of that look in her eyes. The green irises are covered with a thin layer of a dark fog. She's obviously going through a very obscure and tortuous path of thoughts. It's disturbing. I get the sudden urge to reach out for her, tell her it's going to be okay, that I don't blame her. But I know I need to keep my distances if I want to preserve myself. I don't want to get a taste that could – and probably would – lead me to want more. I don't even know what she has in mind. Maybe she wants to say she's sorry for rejecting me. Maybe she wants to apologize for calling me an idiot. Either way, she needs to get a hold of herself and leave.
But she doesn't. Her hands dig in the pillow on each side of my head and she cries. Her arms are trembling so much, I think she might collapse over me. I want her to go and at the same time I want her to stay. I can't help it. It's Fang. I can't let her go when I know she feels that way because of me. If only I could have stopped the words from falling from my foolish mouth, if I had kept my feelings for myself and didn't drag her into all of this mess, we still could have been friends. And she'd be fine right now. I, who wants so much to see her happy, now am making her cry.
'I'm sorry,' I breathe, refraining myself from drawing her into a tight hug.
She stops breathing at those words – I notice her chest doesn't heave anymore. She stares at me, and just when I think that she's finally going to stop crying, she bursts into sobs.
'You're so stupid, Lightning,' she cries between shaky intakes of breath. 'Why would you feel this way for me? Why would you hurt that much? I swear I didn't want to do that to you, I swear. I thought you'd be happy once everything would be over. When I started hearing you, every time you suffered when you were thinking about me, I wished that I'd never have existed. I couldn't believe I was the one hurting you. Every second that passed since I turned into crystal, I could hear you cry, and it made me feel so damned guilty and miserable, I wanted to die. I can't believe you'd still want me after all you went through because of me.'
I can feel her fingers tightening on the pillow and she closes her eyes, more tears dripping on my face. I don't know what to make of this. Of course I still want you, I want to scream. But my tongue is glued in my mouth. She hasn't mentioned the fact that I love her. Is this a clue? It seems that she doesn't want to tackle the delicate subject. Or maybe she just doesn't care. Maybe she says I'm stupid for suffering like this because of someone who doesn't give a damn about my feelings. In that case, she'd be right. I'm foolish. Maybe for all this time, I've suffered for someone whom I loved, while not knowing if they'd loved me back should they be with me. It's true. I've been so focused on those feelings I felt – and still feel, more than ever now that she's here – that I totally forgot about how she felt. I'm the one who's been selfish. I'm the one who has never cared about her. I wanted her to be with me, I wanted her to love me. I've never asked myself, what does she want? Sad truth. And yet, I can't help it. I still have that lingering feeling of want in me. I still need her. I still want her.
'I still want you,' I whisper.
She exhales sharply, as if relieved. And I feel awfully guilty. Because she should see that I'm not entirely honest, that I want her all to myself and that it's not fair because I don't care about what she wants. But then, she smiles – slightly, I barely notice it – and I don't mind anymore. Because Fang smiling is one of the things that I've been wishing for, and it's finally happening, just here and now. Her fingers release their hold on my pillow and come to rest on my cheeks. This feels already too good. The heat, the softness, the delicacy… I've been wanting this so much, I want to take my time to enjoy every single second of it. But it doesn't last. I almost faint when she leans in and – Etro this is way beyond imagination – her lips land on mind. Time stops. Sparks, jolts of electricity, butterflies in my stomach. I've never imagined I could feel all of this because of a single kiss. I can't move, and as I find myself unable to react, she thinks she understands that I don't want it. When she draws back with a pained expression, I jerk up and grab her forcefully by the neck. I stare at her a moment, our faces inches apart, and we're both crying. Happy tears, sad tears. It doesn't matter. I dive in and kiss her. She wraps her arms around me, and I wrap my legs around her waist. I'm not letting her go. I'll never let her go.