Page 117 of My Lovely Tragedy
My fingers caresshis bare arms while his remain clasped around the key encircling my neck. Brooklyn tugs gently on the thin chain, and just as I begin to anticipate it will snap, he releases the pressure.
His face is pressed against my chest, left leg swung over both of mine, ankle tucked around my calf. He drags his left hand through the thatch of thick hair on my chest, curling his fingers in the dark brown and graying curls. The blunt edges of his nails graze my flesh beneath with every turn of his hand, sending goosebumps prickling a path down each arm to where it blooms at my cervical vertebrae.
Each slow exhale sends a fresh wave cascading outward and down to my center. I card the fingers of my left hand through his hair, and with my right, I continue my caress on his wounds, unable to tear myself away.
They’re in the beginning stages of healing, covered in the first bits of scabs. Rough with texture. I find it soothing as I drag the pads of my fingers over it, and Brooklyn does not seem to mind, so I don’t stop.
I do not think that I would even if he did—and that should scare me.
But then again, I would do absolutely anything for him, so perhaps I would.
And that is the scariest feeling in the world—not knowing just how far I would—could—go on either end of the scale.
“Tobias,” Brooklyn whispers, voice low and laced with exhaustion. My hand tightens in his hair, drawing his head closer to the base of my throat. His nails scrape, scoring my flesh.
“Yes,corvus?”
It’s quiet for a while as we hold each other, and I think, perhaps, he just wanted to hear my voice.
After all, I do share the sentiment.
My eyelids grow heavy with the desire to fall into sleep. It dances across my peripheral with every slow blink, the moonlight growing blurry through the opened curtains. And with it, the comforting weight of serenity. Even through the doubt and the fear, the indecision and regret, the underlying layer of tranquility is what takes over me now.
This is how we were always meant to be.
At peace and together, in one another through every universe.
“I’m scared.”
His voice, still as raspy and gentle, startles me. I tense involuntarily, eyelids flying open as my heart twists. I think Brooklyn feels the difference because his fingers curl in my chest hair and tug, keeping me close.
After a few deliberate breaths, I force my limbs to lose some of their tension. “Scared of what, darling? I’m right here. Everything is just fine.”The words are. bitter on my tongue.I release his hair to rub up and down his arm.
“Of everything. It…” I feel his swallow more than I hear it as his throat rolls against me. “It’s all so terrifying, don’t you think?”
I hum softly, the tune of the very lullaby I sang to him, turning to graze my lips atop his head. “Is there anything in particular that is worrying you? Or perhaps it’s the immensity.”
“The immensity,” he mumbles, tracing his index finger over the teeth of the key, up around the chain resting against my collarbone and back down. Over and over until my skin stings from the friction of his touch.
“Hmm.Feeling that way about everything at once is certainly overwhelming. Did something bring this on? Something more pointed,” I clarify.
He draws in a breath, like he’s steeling his resolve. “I’m scared of you. Of what I said.” A whisper.
“Ahh, I see.” My hands tighten of their own volition, drawing a small squeak from between his lips. I force myself to ease up, only for him to shake his head and squeeze my arms.
“You want…?”
“Yes. Please.”
“I do not wish to hurt you.”
He stills. “Tobias.”
I blink, then force a chuckle that’s much too dry. Clearing my throat, I rasp, “Right. My apologies.”
“I don’t want you to be sorry. I just want you to hold me. You… you make it all feel better, and I just want to feel better. I’m tired, and I’m scared.”
“Shh, darling. It’s okay.”
