Leave A Scar

We spent the nights differently now. Borrowing just one bed instead of two, our bodies merging into one sleeping form. We'd touch and kiss, mostly just soft movements, softer kisses. I let him take the lead, but we never went any further than his arms wrapping around me a bit tighter and cradling me into a full embrace against him. Eventually, his lips would peck mine and he'd draw away. His head would shift down, nestling against mine. Fully clothed, we would sleep like that. It was tough, at first. I forgot how vulnerable it made you feel; sleeping with someone.

It was fairly tough for me to actually fall asleep as well. But I stayed in his arms, trying to focus on anything but his embrace or his body heat or his soft breath moving a tendril of my hair back and forth. It was hard for me to be like that. So close to someone again. Innocently intimate.

Sometimes, I would start shaking. But Ed was in such a deep sleep that he wouldn't notice. His arms usually just held me against him a little more, and sometimes this helped. My body would calm down, and eventually I was able to focus on how warm he was. Just the warmth. Just the sheer temperature. Not how it was from someone else. Closing my eyes helped with this trick, and I eventually found the courage to rest my head against his shoulder, near the curve of his neck. Just warmth. Nothing more.

I always felt like breaking.

It was different than before; before, there were periods were I could breathe without feeling the weight in the space behind my ċhėst. Without feeling so much pain.

I didn't want to feel so lost anymore. I didn't want to feel like caving in every moment. I didn't... I just wanted to feel like I was home...

Ed remained silent. Quieter than usual. He wasn't moving, either, body continuing to sit on a hotel bed and head continuing to hang in a way that scared me. It was much too low; much too depressed-looking.

I took a step forward.

"Ed..."

He looked to me, after a moment. But that pause was enough to get me worried again. And I spoke once more, cursed the air with my voice again.

"Are you okay?"

Another pause; another beat with his hair hiding his eyes.

"Yeah," he said. Turning away again. "I'm fine."

You don't look fine, I wanted to say, but my throat shut down and my knees grew soft. I couldn't do anything for him.

"I just..."

I waited, searching him like the next words would be written somewhere on his exposed skin.

His head bowed again, and suddenly—slowly—his hand lifted outward, arm curving out to me.

He just needed me.

I sat down beside him, feeling his arm curve around my shoulders, bring me in close. I nearly felt like sobbing, eyes closing tight but failing to hide tears. I couldn't cry...

He didn't feel anything, even with my face against his ċhėst. Even with my hand against him, too. He didn't feel the trembles of that, either.

His head moved, lifting and settling his chin onto the top of my head. Just resting there, thumbs stroking my arms. Comforting, in a way that nearly broke me further. I didn't deserve this gentleness...

Why, I wanted to ask. Why this? Why me?

I wouldn't get an answer. But I knew Ed; I knew the person he was by now. I just didn't want to face kind words spoken so confidently. Telling me everything I truly wasn't.

I didn't want to be constantly surrounded by those lies. I needed the truths my own head would give me, different voices delivering different things...

I needed those voices, and in time the rest would play as it was destined to. A broken hand springing forth dead cards.

Time would give me deliverance, serve my sentence accordingly.

It just took time.