Her serene voice invited him before he could comprehend what she had just said. In the corner, he stood, leaving ample space between him and his greatest fear, until she beckoned him to face it. She patted the soft cushion next to her exposed leg, the same way a wife would tap her husband’s shoulder. In a dull moment, the cramped bedroom became a spacious prison; he searched everywhere for an escape, even though the door was right behind him. Moments before, it had been quickly shut, by her, as she trailed him into the room. Her movements were surprisingly agile, slinking into his presence without any recognition; until she wanted him to see her. And now, she resting on the edge, lips full of the finest wine; the smell trailed into his nostrils without warning, prompting him to become slightly intoxicated.
Thick with hesitation, the next moment arrived as he contemplated all the reasons why fulfilling her simple request was dangerous, yet today was a day that her language ruled over all. Upon this realization, he decided to throw away all rationality, and accept her invitation. The distance between them was only a few short steps, but it took him an eternity to reach her side; and she immediately rested her softened cheek upon his shoulder. Midnight hair flowed down into his hand as her lunar smile illuminated the darkened room. Making herself comfortable by his side, he challenged the very thing he sought…connection.
It was here, breathing down his trembling arm, testing to see how long it could stay before infecting his heart. A feeling wrapped in four-AM conversations, cold french fries, and rhythmic confessions. It was finding a piece of yourself in an other person, and politely asking them to share it with you. Alone, it’s power can make the doubter believe, if given enough effort. What was it doing here, in front of him? Attempting to rebuild a once beating heart, currently in jagged fragments across a salmon-tiled floor. It yearned for unity once more, to be tied together by the threads of fate that were attached to her. Why then did this feel so tragic?
Pressing his body into her arm, he answered, utilizing his frame to finish his sentences. Words were no longer necessary, for the two uttered from her mouth were enough to both entice and quell the hurricane brewing in his gut. Again, without his knowledge, the tools of their trades came together, this time allowing finger and palm to serve as brush and canvas. It was a warmth, that only should’ve lasted a darting second, embedded in the memories of yesterday; but yet here it was, within his grasp once more.
Who was he to say no to the thing he missed the most? Together, they unshielded themselves in each other’s presence, bearing the markings of years of insecurities. Alone in this room, on the corner of a half-constructed couch, the two traveled to their own world; choosing to live in their creation, rather than conforming to the illusion. Although brief, their realm became real from two simple words.