Under the Sun

There is no rain for days, though the sky is cloudy. She watches him from the corner of an eye, smiling inside. He has become uncharacteristically quiet, attempting to start some speech only for the words to die when he looks at her, his face going red and his brows knitted with confusion. She feels a little bad for him, but not as much as she would have thought.

He tries to find a comfortable spot on the dirt by himself that night, looking at the sky, the fire, anywhere but her. Smirking, she watches his hand shift and his shoulders tense. He's trying to work it out with his back to her, thinking perhaps that she can't guess what he's doing, can't see him if he can't see her.

When she wraps herself around his taunt back he screams like a child and she shakes with laughter against him. He sulks, but only for as long as it takes her hand to trace it's way down his arm.

After she's done, his lower lip is bloody where he bit down too hard. A small noise escapes him when she kisses it, tasting thick metal and salt. There's nothing to wash her hand with this time so she dismissively wipes it on his white regulation t-shirt.

This is what finally loosens his tongue and questions she can never hope to answer spill out of him. For as much time as he spent among humans, he really doesn't know much about them. The fire is burning low when he finally confesses that he's afraid of more than the dark. His mind can't wrap around what she does to him, how it reminds him of testing and that promise of death she made and everything wonderful he's ever known all at once.

She smiles into his back and holds him tight; it's all the reassurance she can give. He puts a shaky hand over hers resting against his beating heart and confesses that, in spite of everything, he feels safe because she is there. A warmth settles in her chest to coincide with the weight of responsibility that already rests on her shoulders. She doesn't know if she can ever be enough for him but she vows then to try.