A/N: this is my submission for the U.S.S Caryl contest on tumblr, but since it is kind of a continuation of the drabble theme I've been doing lately, I thought I would share it here with all of you
Sometimes love is fast and crashing; nothing can stop it and it explodes with a resounding boom.
Sometimes love is slow and deliberate; a whisper in the night that echoes until dawn.
The boy and girl are booming.
The man and woman are echoing.
I don't believe that I am prone to flights of fancy. My life is a short one in comparison. When you've got two months, you make the most of it.
When I was little, the boy found me and brought me up here. He gave me a shoebox to live in, and brings me food scraps each day during his watch. Sometimes the girl Maggie comes with him, and they sit and play with me for a while. Then they will leave me with my toys, my mini rubber duck who I have named George, and a toothbrush that I like to push around. I am a simple guy sometimes. While I play, they play, and there is always a resounding boom.
There are others that come to the watchtower, and they are patient and kind with me. Some bring me food, some pet me. One in particular likes to hoist me onto his shoulder and let me look out the windows with him. It is the only time I ever get to see my home. Sometimes we see other things, people like him who wander in strange patterns or bang endlessly against the fence. Sometimes we see deer, and he whispers to me, "Hey little mouse, see those deer? They may be fuckin' majestic, but you, you are fuckin' brilliant."
Sometimes we sit watch alone, and sometimes the woman comes. She wears a lovely purple scarf around her neck, and she pats me on the head. She never makes me leave his shoulder, and they never play. They talk, and stare out in silence, and sometimes in the silence, their hands will briefly touch, and I can feel the muscles in his shoulder tighten and then relax. He is trying so hard.
Sometimes she will laugh lightly, and I feel his breathing change. He holds it a moment and then lets it go. I know he is in love, I can feel the slight shift in his body temperature, and the tiny goosebumps that sometimes rise on his skin. There are echoes here, that last long after their shift ends.
Sometimes the woman comes alone. I don't know her name because the man never calls her by it. They have a mostly wordless communication. I only know Maggie's name because the boy says it over and over as a form of affirmation and also often when they are playing.
When the woman comes alone she lets me sit in the palm of her hand and she talks to me. She likes to share her fears and little secrets. Once she told me that she liked the man very much, but that she didn't want to scare him. I wanted to tell her that I didn't think she could scare the man. He wasn't afraid of things, not even those strange wanderers in the field, but all I could do was nuzzle her hand with my nose. She giggled at that. I think the man would have liked to hear her laughter.
The man told me once that he liked the woman very much, but that he was very unsure of himself. He told me that for little guys like me, that kind of thing was natural, but not for him. He said he was wounded in his other life, and he just didn't know what to do. He told me he gave the woman what he could, and that he hoped one day he might be able to give her more, he just wished things were easy for him like they are for me. I didn't remind him that I hadn't seen my kind since I was born, and that I didn't know what to do either.
I have decided today that if they have watch, I will say hi, and then go play. I think they use me as an excuse to keep a slight distance. I am the comfortable thing they can share. If I do nothing else in my life, I would like to help them both realize they like each other very much. Since I cannot tell them, I must show them.
Today the woman has come first. She is wearing her purple scarf, but she takes it off as she enters. She lets it drape over the chair, but she does not notice that it falls to the floor. The man is a little later, but when he comes in, he is all smiles. "Where is our little mouse today?" They do not see me, hiding behind the leg of the chair. They step closer together and the man leans down to check my shoebox. "That's odd," he says, glancing around the room.
"I saw him just yesterday," the woman tells him. "He must be here somewhere."
"I'm sure he'll turn up, he always does," the man assures her.
They are standing hip to hip now, looking out over my birthplace. Now is my chance. I tug the scarf and pull it to wind around their legs, just once, but that will be enough. Then I hop up onto the console and squeak at them.
"There he is," the woman smiles.
"Come 'ere buddy," the man gestures, extending his hand.
Instead I jump down and run toward the door. They both turn to watch me and get caught in the scarf. Suddenly they are down on the floor of the watchtower, limbs spread in all directions. The man is trapped under the woman, and they look at each other in surprise. The woman smiles at the man. "Well, hello..."
The man blushes, but he does not push her off. Instead I watch him place his arm around her waist and pull her closer. It was the first time I ever saw their lips touch, and the echo is deafening.