Theea
cause every night i lie in bed
the brightest colors fill my head
the brightest colors fill my head
I sense Damien lean down closer, and I dare a look up, expecting to hear, It’s okay. Because it’s something to apologize for and something that needs to be forgiven.
Instead it’s a quiet insistence not to be sorry at all.
I blink, taking it in as he says it, his soft smirk like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. Like he means it as a fact, the way he does when he compliments my capabilities. He’s not trying to make me feel better, not telling me what I want to hear. He means it as surely as saying the sky is blue—and somehow that means more.
I don’t know why heat rushes to my cheeks at that—why his simple, honest words make my heart race. It’s not like I had parents who told me I talked too much. Even my new family has put up with it; they haven’t made me feel like I need to shrink. I didn’t grow up being told I was too much—unless you count all the other people I met in passing.
I hold his eye, still up through my lashes as if really looking up would invite something dangerous.
Aria, bless her, saves me. Her paw slaps the bench, and I glance down with Damien at her huge eyes and fluffy pelt. She pounces off and I smile after her. Damien really does need her, I think. He’s too lonely out there in the woods, no matter how much he might pretend he prefers it that way. Anyone with eyes should see it. Or maybe I’m the only one looking hard enough to do something about it.
The last of my drink is a big gulp; I drink it down, determined to make the flush in my face from that rather than whatever his low, gravelled voice always seems to do. There’s no heat—it goes down like water.
Yikes. Not sure if I’ve ever been this buzzed before. Or drunk. Maybe this is drunk. Everything blurs a little at the edges, giving the lanterns a soft gold halo.
I watch Damien rise, bright eyes tracking him like he’s the focal point of the night, not the lanterns or Edrei or anyone else.
He holds his hand out for me to take, and… I catch something like mischief lightening his face, like he knows a secret I should know but don’t. I can’t help the crooked smile as I slip my small hand into his broad one, roughened by work where mine are only just forming new calluses from my weapons.
I’m suddenly thinking of the cave again, when I’d been held and gentled to sleep. Somehow this feels as intimate as that.
I rise, hand still clasped in his, and I follow into the damp grass, still stubbornly green in the face of impending Deepfrost. I keep my hand in his, numb fingers suddenly bright and warm with feeling. It’s good to have him to hang onto—the world sways just so, enough that I have to bite down a giggle. But he’s grounding. Steadfast. I know he wouldn’t let me fall.
And then I see what he was seeing. I stop beside him, my smile growing and softening all at once. The sky is just barely overcast; below, fireflies flicker to life out of the grass, more and more appearing like scattered embers.
“No wonder there are so few stars,” I say absently. “They’re all right here.”
I look up at Damien; something in my chest swells, bright and warm and nearly too much to contain. Only then do I realize I’m still holding his hand, and I curl my fingers almost imperceptibly tighter, a gentle squeeze—
And then I curl in and hug him, head tucking into his chest in a familiar way, arms slipping around his ribs to his back. I tell myself it’s fine if he doesn’t hold me back, if he pushes me away. Maybe it’s the cider. It’s got to be the cider—but it feels nice, and there’s his heartbeat again and…
A firefly lands on his shoulder, just in front of my face. My eyes widen; I smile, and one arm slips carefully free. I cup my hand over the flickering bug, closing my fist gingerly so I don’t hurt it, then lean back, a hand still at his back, and show him the little light pulsing between my fingers.
“Maybe it’s good luck for one to land on you,” I say. “Never heard anyone say it before, but it’s gotta be, right?”
I open my hand. The little bug doesn’t fly away just yet, wandering my palm, lighting beneath folded wings—a small, steady glow that seems to echo the golden warmth pulsing through my veins when I look back up at Damien with a smile.
Instead it’s a quiet insistence not to be sorry at all.
I blink, taking it in as he says it, his soft smirk like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. Like he means it as a fact, the way he does when he compliments my capabilities. He’s not trying to make me feel better, not telling me what I want to hear. He means it as surely as saying the sky is blue—and somehow that means more.
I don’t know why heat rushes to my cheeks at that—why his simple, honest words make my heart race. It’s not like I had parents who told me I talked too much. Even my new family has put up with it; they haven’t made me feel like I need to shrink. I didn’t grow up being told I was too much—unless you count all the other people I met in passing.
I hold his eye, still up through my lashes as if really looking up would invite something dangerous.
Aria, bless her, saves me. Her paw slaps the bench, and I glance down with Damien at her huge eyes and fluffy pelt. She pounces off and I smile after her. Damien really does need her, I think. He’s too lonely out there in the woods, no matter how much he might pretend he prefers it that way. Anyone with eyes should see it. Or maybe I’m the only one looking hard enough to do something about it.
The last of my drink is a big gulp; I drink it down, determined to make the flush in my face from that rather than whatever his low, gravelled voice always seems to do. There’s no heat—it goes down like water.
Yikes. Not sure if I’ve ever been this buzzed before. Or drunk. Maybe this is drunk. Everything blurs a little at the edges, giving the lanterns a soft gold halo.
I watch Damien rise, bright eyes tracking him like he’s the focal point of the night, not the lanterns or Edrei or anyone else.
He holds his hand out for me to take, and… I catch something like mischief lightening his face, like he knows a secret I should know but don’t. I can’t help the crooked smile as I slip my small hand into his broad one, roughened by work where mine are only just forming new calluses from my weapons.
I’m suddenly thinking of the cave again, when I’d been held and gentled to sleep. Somehow this feels as intimate as that.
I rise, hand still clasped in his, and I follow into the damp grass, still stubbornly green in the face of impending Deepfrost. I keep my hand in his, numb fingers suddenly bright and warm with feeling. It’s good to have him to hang onto—the world sways just so, enough that I have to bite down a giggle. But he’s grounding. Steadfast. I know he wouldn’t let me fall.
And then I see what he was seeing. I stop beside him, my smile growing and softening all at once. The sky is just barely overcast; below, fireflies flicker to life out of the grass, more and more appearing like scattered embers.
“No wonder there are so few stars,” I say absently. “They’re all right here.”
I look up at Damien; something in my chest swells, bright and warm and nearly too much to contain. Only then do I realize I’m still holding his hand, and I curl my fingers almost imperceptibly tighter, a gentle squeeze—
And then I curl in and hug him, head tucking into his chest in a familiar way, arms slipping around his ribs to his back. I tell myself it’s fine if he doesn’t hold me back, if he pushes me away. Maybe it’s the cider. It’s got to be the cider—but it feels nice, and there’s his heartbeat again and…
A firefly lands on his shoulder, just in front of my face. My eyes widen; I smile, and one arm slips carefully free. I cup my hand over the flickering bug, closing my fist gingerly so I don’t hurt it, then lean back, a hand still at his back, and show him the little light pulsing between my fingers.
“Maybe it’s good luck for one to land on you,” I say. “Never heard anyone say it before, but it’s gotta be, right?”
I open my hand. The little bug doesn’t fly away just yet, wandering my palm, lighting beneath folded wings—a small, steady glow that seems to echo the golden warmth pulsing through my veins when I look back up at Damien with a smile.
a million dreams are keeping me awake
