Always And Forever
Story 7: The Touch Of Your Hand
The first time is always the most awkward. It was done by the mocking glow of the barrier late at night, just the new lovers on a pile of cushions on the floor. A journal full of escape plans wide open nearby. When Vee had been obsessing over where they went wrong to the point of spontaneous eye twitches and a raw spot on her bottom lip from all the gnawing, Graham reacted without thinking. Shocker.
He had to hope that Vee didn't react skeptically this time, that he could help her. As much as he was screaming internally for placing his clammy hand over hers, his heart was ready to beat out of his chest.
The back of Vee's hand was as smooth as he assumed. He waited for a signal she wasn't going to bend his fingers backward until they snapped, which surprisingly arrived quickly in the form of her flexing beneath his. There was a space between her fingers, and when he didn't immediately understand she turned to him hopefully. Vee... Was hopeful? Over him?
Insecurity tried to prevent him from believing it, but it failed this time. Graham would always think on the loneliest days if someone willingly held his hand that would mean more than a whole speech about what made them want to be in his presence. Because words are beautiful sometimes, hurtful others... Words are often only jammed in from assuming one can't rely only on action to send a message or prove a point.
A mini speech would have given Vee the chance to show off her vocabulary, which obviously wouldn't be flirting. She smoothed frizzed hairs back with her free hand, radiating a smug aura as she was certain he didn't know that's what she considered. Um.
Well, Graham decided he could be silent then as well. That was for the best; his smile hurt especially when she finally lost her patience, her free hand swooping in and placing his fingers where they fit best. Unholy fluid or no, their cool hands could form heat stacked like that. But, hey, why not fix the temperature problem by squeezing fingers side by side?
What neither of them knew in that moment was the simple fact more chances for perfecting the hand-holding method would arise. Vee quickly sank into what could have come off as a meditative state, leaning on Graham's shoulder with peacefully shut eyes while he quietly acknowledged she must have liked him enough to let him leave completely, utterly adoring pecks to her forehead and cheek.
And by the time they lined their faces up, their hands being different sizes and therefore not perfectly fitting was not lost on them. It's just that they weren't going to waste time being petty.
The second, third and so on continued to be done without thinking. When Graham's emotions ascended but he had no way to get them all out, when Vee was concerned she couldn't speak her own emotions without accidentally downplaying important developments the only thing to do was to reach out. That was all. Because it wouldn't be long before the missing other half was back where it belonged.
Their fingers learned how to flex, curve and the best position to avoid numbness. Sometimes the whole hand covered one, while others saw them clasped. Either way, it had become a ritual before and after sleep and useful in formal situations.
The gesture was most powerful during eighteen specific years when Graham tried his best to communicate, but just wanted to cry. It was Vee spreading both sets of hands flat against the other before slowly curling the fingers together that reminded him he wasn't the only one sinking. Up to the moment their son came back into their lives their heads remained above water, although Graham's desperate tugs translated his fear she wouldn't want to stay with someone who couldn't protect their children. Then they relaxed as Vee's glided down pressing to check if he could still feel.
She didn't want him to carry the whole world on his back, because the only thing to prevent Alexander's kidnapping would have been them never bringing him or Rosella into the world. Then a slight pinch at the flesh in front of his nails, unexpected but necessary to "warn" him she didn't regret the children or the night leading to their existence. But since he would feel his face allowing rare emotion again, he knew she saw him allow himself to smile back.
Their hands went through dirt, ink, mild irritations, dry patches, eventual thickening of the skin. No matter what, it came to a point where Graham knew Vee was well aware he was behind her giving her hand a squeeze when they met outside the castle before continuing in separate directions. And while those moments had him wanting to pull her into his arms right there in public he knew he needed to calm the hell down over grocery shopping.
Maybe he should have done it. Not a day went by more recently he didn't look at wrinkled, withering hands and regret. She wasn't gone, no, she just... Couldn't share a bed with him in this condition, fair enough. Obviously, his condition was more fragile so any accidental bump could dislocate this or rupture that. But he thought she just didn't want to see him this way for extended amounts of time. Again, fair. This wouldn't be the first experience of disconnection from himself.
When Vee did gently seat herself next to him, hold his good hand in both of hers and just rub his fingers his heart beat out of his chest all over again... Even if it hurt, he had to launch from a lying position and feel her lips. They could step out of reality together, travel to a place borrowing elements from their past while also being its own world no one else could begin to understand.
It wasn't long before her fingers slipped from his, and her lips pressed to his knuckles before she was gone again. Queen Valanice returning to her duties with her previous shared dreamy haze entirely replaced with a neutral expression. No one would suspect she'd just come back from making sure her husband hadn't passed away from exhaustion trying to swat a fly.
In the privacy of this increasingly miserable room, he did his best to pretend there was still a fire lit under his skin and blazing through his fingers, but it just wasn't there. She always knew when he was lying before he said anything. So, it was only a matter of time before Vee was holding on to him tighter or kissing him longer. Her stubborn streak only got her so far in life, but it wouldn't help the disappearing senses of a dead man.
They say women live longer than men. But if he had to leave before her, didn't want it to be here. Anywhere but this very normal setting of a bed and safe castle walls. His dry throat didn't want to let a laugh pass; in his getting carried away with Vee he forgot to ask her for that glass of water juuuust out of reach on the table. Silly him.
Oh well. He lied back down as carefully as possible, the good hand held close to his cheek as if remains of Vee's comfort would be transferred to him. If he was happy, a content flush rose to the surface of that spot, or he was smiling he wouldn't know for certain. It was a poor substitute for her lying next to him as they drifted off hand in hand even if they never woke up that way, but it kept him from wanting that drink just to produce more tears.
