it's him again.
his unkempt, messy hair shaded his eyes, his breath ragged and uneven from my weight. white fluffs of condensation billowed out, only to dissipate in the frigid winter air.
his arms felt warm. i could feel his heartbeat, pressed tightly against his chest. its reassuring thumps lulled me into a fidgety sleep.
*
“where are we?”
”...hideout.” he murmured, dragging a heavy quilt off the sofa onto the floor. its messy and littered with coffee cans and empty ramen cups.
“that's what we called it.” he gazed out at the midnight skyline. “my brother and i.”
“you've lost weight...” his frame was much smaller than i last remembered. faint bags of black dragged his normally sharp eyes downward. he looked so tired, his shoulders slumped, refusing to meet my gaze.
“you too.” he looked up. there was so much sadness in his eyes that my chest scrunched up in pain.
“you surprised me, showing up suddenly like that,” my faint laughter trailed off. i had to squeeze the words out of myself. it hurt me to see him like that. he was never this vulnerable, this afraid. a light night drizzle pattered against the balcony window. the air conditioning kept whirling away, a mixture of sounds swirling around us, amplifying the silence that hung between us. he looked out of the window, hands limp by his side, his silhouette stark against the night lights of the cityscape.
“did you go to lots of faraway places again? see all kinds of interesting things? make all the stuff you wanted to make? get a lot done?” it spilled out of me in a surge. i stared, wide-eyed, at him, desperately hoping for a response.
his eyes flitted to my right arm.
and all the pain, all that repressed fear, anguish and despair came rushing back. i gripped my hospital gown so tightly that my fists started hurting, shocked.
”...wait. just wait. i'll get better soon, and then we can...” my voice caught in my throat, lips quivering. “and then we can show each other what we made, just like before.” the warmth seeped through my cheeks. i let my hands fall to my side and let my vision blur. the autumn rain outside pelted the city with its chilly shards.
“that's okay. you don't have to do that.” a different, reassuring warmth touched my cheek. the sobs came involuntarily, rocking my body, agitating my wounds. it hurt. everything hurt.
“you don't have to leave anything behind to show that you were alive,” his shaky, rough-edged voice, barely a whisper, pierced through my suffering.
“all that matters is that you're alive. and that we can be together.”
his warmth soaked through my entire being. it was so comforting, so peaceful, so lovely, that for the first time in weeks, i felt happy.
“that's all i need. that's all i care about anymore.” his voice broke at the last syllable, and this time, a single searing teardrop soaked through the scratchy fabric of my hospital gown.
so sweet. the words spilling from his lips were the kindest, sweetest words ever. his voice, too, sounded so gentle, so tender. and so terribly sad.
almost as if he was calling out for someone, somewhere far away.
“what happened?”
he raised his head, eyes full of despair and grief, cheeks soaked in tears.
“lets go to sleep.” he forced a smile.
and the sounds of the city enveloped us in a cocoon of painful love.
***