The Simple Reality

The Giving Hand

The start of the day met the woman curled beneath the covers when she had found the other half of the bed empty. Björn was out of it early. She could hear his movements from the bathroom ahead behind the closed door. The sink was running, before it was the shower, and before that was a toilet flush. She yawned, her half asleep mind was unprepared for thoughts to begin circling around her mind. Different ones, random and irrelevant things. Shifting her head up, she saw the open door to their closet reveal that Björn put out his suitcase. The subtle irritation disappeared after a moment.

Flipping to her back, she stared at the ceiling as she recalled the last 5 days between them. A bump of disagreement they got over. Impulsive choices made— some his, some hers, equally. Their busy schedules never giving them an opportunity to have a truly relaxed or enjoyable time as they usually would. She spent her time making it out to Benny's studio for a few meetings that involved her production team, time with Jörgen in the studio, and life at home. Meanwhile, Björn was occupied on things that dominated the hours of his day. By the time he got home, they'd share the most simplest of exchanges, even should it be with fondness, but nothing that took more energy. They found themselves only frustrated when they are alone, or as soon as they left each other for their own thing. If Björn left the house for a meeting, she internally sighed to herself and let him. And when he sits with her but her needs call for something else, his chest lets out a breath when he finds her walking away. What could they honestly do? Stand at each other's sides at every moment?

Agnetha's blue eyes met the small plastic blue suitcase once again. Tomorrow he'd be on his way for his journey to multiple cities and she couldn't admit to him just yet how she hated the thought of it. At least not another time. For some reason, this time felt different. Perhaps it was the distance already created. Perhaps, it was the fact that she missed him already when he is only 20 feet away from her, something she was very reluctant to admit to him. If he knew her well, then he was already aware.

The time had gotten on, their places swapped as she took place in the bathroom for her shower, and he was getting dressed and preparing himself for a morning meeting. Two knocks at the bathroom door had her reach her hand behind her to open it. Obviously he was looking for something, and she was finished with her shower so she didn't need the space as privately. Her 'Me Time' could be spared.

It was misty and steamy in the space, he could feel it with each inhale he took. Björn opened the drawer at her side, finding his styling hair gel and during the moment he did he noticed her step slightly aside to give him space, wrapped in a white towel with her hair pinned up casually, dry, wavy and unwashed. He began to style his hair, despite the fact the mirror was covered and there was no reflection. He trusted the process, and carefully combed over his hair and during that time, she was putting tooth paste over the toothbrush for herself.

Her chest expanded and released a breath which she let him hear, then she hunched over the sink, taking up his space and she spit to wash her mouth. Björn let her finish, and he thought it was interesting she would choose his sink, she could have very much used the other. The bathroom was spacious, yet she took her spot again even if it meant she had to step right in front of him, interrupting him from what he needed to finish. His breath was soundless but felt as it was taken before his arms slide around her hips and under the running water. She was brushing her teeth another round meanwhile eyeing the actions of his hands in the sink. Björn closed the faucet with the first thought to use her towel to dry his hands. If she was going to use his space, he was going to use her towel.

Her patience as she waited for him to finish was held with silence. He noted her hesitation, as if she expected something that wasn't yet coming. She however with all that she predicted did not expect he'd curl his arms against her and hug her that moment after but he did. He was not afraid of giving her contact. Finally, it happened and it was so obvious but unexpressed how craved it was by the both of them. Often times he learned that the less talking they had, the more connection of any sort was longed for.