Soul

May

When I awake, the room is dark. I frown, because from the other side of the room I feel... someone. A presence, dominating, overpowering.

I try to raise myself up on one arm and succeed only in sending sharp pain lancing through my entire body, leaving me gasping with shock.

"You're not supposed to be moving around for a while."

My face flushes beneath the cover of darkness. Please, Ho-oh, let him think I'm still asleep, I plead silently.

"I know you're not asleep."

I sigh, ignoring his last statement. "Are you going to stay?" I whisper into the darkness.

His eyes glimmer emerald from the shadows, bright and alert as a sable-furred cat's. Slowly, he nods almost imperceptibly. Then a pause. "I'm sorry," he says in a low voice. "I'm sorry for everything I've done to you... and to him." We both know who he means. "I was too stupid to realize the truth."

I bite the inside of my lip, wondering what to say, wondering what to do. "I'll forgive you," I say weakly. It takes another few moments before I can speak again, and in those moments I can feel his tension. "The scars will heal by themselves." He closes his eyes, and I do the same. For a moment, our breathing is the only sound in the room. I finally let the silence wash over me like water...

His eyes open to watch me, and somehow, it doesn't seem as threatening anymore. "Will you really?" he whispers, and I shiver with the intensity of his voice. "Do you really think you can forgive me? If you can't, don't say you will."

Hesitation binds me. I can tell that he's not just asking forgiveness for what just happened; it's every look he's given me for the past seven months. Every darting glance, every furtive look. Every hurt, every scar, every rip of the fragile threads that tie me to Brendan.

And then it all makes frighteningly perfect sense.

"I never loved him. I loved you. But after that day, seven months ago, when we stopped talking to each other, I don't know why anymore, I still wanted you. And I found you in Brendan. I made him into the one who I would look for, the one who made my heart skip a beat every time I saw him, the one who would hold me and kiss me before he left me every night. And he played the part almost to perfection, but... it just wasn't enough for me. And it wasn't enough for you, either."

"No. No, it wasn't," he agrees wryly, a smile in his voice. A thrill runs through me to hear him smile again.

"You haven't smiled in seven months," I murmur.

He seems mildly surprised. "You counted?"

"No. But I haven't seen you smile ever since the first time that Brendan and I..." I stop.

He hesitates. "But I have."

"Not really. Not a real smile. Not one you're not forcing yourself to make."

"So you've been watching, too." Another smile, this time almost amused.

"I guess."

Then we both freeze, because a foreign sound reaches our ears. Footsteps, loud and clear. They stop before the door, hesitating, wondering if I'm all right, wondering if they'll meet Drew. The door moves away noiselessly, and light from outside pools on the linoleum floor.

"May?" he whispers.

The light clicks on, and the scene is illuminated: Drew, sitting across from me in a dark jacket and slacks; me, lying in the hospital bed; and Brendan, startled as a Buneary in headlights, wearing his painstakingly neat coat and a pair of perfectly white tennis shoes. He takes one look at Drew and says somewhat ruefully, "So. You beat me to her."

"I guess." Drew's attitude is cold.

Brendan walks over to me and and takes my hand, face full of guilt. "I just heard about it. You okay?"

"Yes, Brendan." I turn away, blinded by the lights, and he drops my hand in disappointment. What does he want? A hug? With me in this condition?

"Need anything?"

I notice that he's carefully trying not to look at Drew. "No. Nothing else." I smile tentatively at the one who sits across the room, but Brendan takes it as encouragement.

"I heard that you'll be able to leave soon," he says, his words empty and meaningless.

"I know, just go away. I need to rest."

Brendan glances at Drew before turning back to me. "What about him?"

"I'm sure he'll make less noise than you. Go."

I turn to look at the wall and hear his unsure footsteps follow him out the door. With one last look, he closes the door behind him, leaving me alone.

That is, with Drew.

"Is it too late?" I whisper to him. "He already suspects... and he's right. Do you think it's too late-"

But Drew simply walks over and sits on the edge of the bed, all the while watching me. His hand reaches out and caresses my cheek, fingers running through the strands of my hair. I sigh in content and grasp his hand in mine.

At last I speak again. "I don't know, Drew; I just don't know what to tell him and how. He's so easily hurt sometimes, and he takes things so personally... I don't want to hurt him, but it seems I have to."

"Don't worry." He leans over me, his eyes pained, and slowly he lowers his lips to mine. His kiss is warm, gentle, as he tries not to hurt me. My hand tangles in his hair, pulling him closer, reminiscent of other times when I have done the same. Drew sighs when we pull apart. "It's been too long," he murmurs, his face pressed to my neck.

"I know."

For a long time we simply lie there, eyes closed.

"When are you going to tell him?" he asks.

"The next time I see him. When he comes up to me, ready to act out his part, wondering if I ever wanted him." A wry smile. "I have to tell him, even if it kills me."

"No."

I glance up at him, puzzled, and I find his face only inches from mine. His breath blows warm on my neck. My heart stops when I look into his eyes, those teasing, glittering emeralds so confident and so sure. A smile curves his mouth as I watch.

Slowly, he kisses my throat, lips grazing my skin. "No," he whispers into my neck. "No. You can't tell him if it kills you."

"Drew!"

"I'm serious." The distance closes between us, until we're pressed closer together than I could ever have imagined. "I'll never forgive you if you die beforeI do," he murmurs as he kisses me again. His hands travel over the thin sheets, pulls them off. I shiver under his touch.

"Drew."

"Is that all you can say?"

I smile. The arrogant Drew is back. "For your information, I'm recovering from being hit by a car."

"Humor me," he chuckled. "It's my turn to have fun. Be quiet."

And I was.