YA1 || ❝To finding love in your arms everyone morning as I wake up, your eyes meeting my own in a pool of never ending depth. A depth I was willing to test in this life and the next, even if that meant drowning in the swirls of your scent.❞
This boo...
Whether or not you loved me then for one more night.
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Three days later, you finally wake up.
It was two thirty in the morning. Sleep seemed to be circling upon me in spells, and yet I couldn't force my brain to shut down. For the first time that night, I wasn't thinking about the past.
I was thinking about the future.
Surprisingly though, not ours. Yours.
My fingers were wound in your hair as always, even though the railing of your bed separated us. My thumb gently rubbed traces on your forehead just the way you always loved it, even though my thoughts were as estranged as your consciousness.
That's where my thoughts lay.
The doctors said that while you had made a significant physical recovery, they couldn't predict the more internal issues that could arise because of the head trauma unless you woke up.
The thought of it frightened me.
Your childhood had been rough with an abusive father and an alcoholic mother. You'd run away from home at the age of 15 and had gone to stay with your Aunt Lucy, who hadn't spoken to your mother in years and yet always had a soft spot for you.
And it was since then that you'd always wanted to achieve something of your own that separated you from the image of your parents. You never wanted to burden your Aunt and you decided to make the same skill your bread earner that you used with her, difficult woman that she was.
Your gift of being able to talk people into things. What started as a mode of survival became the path of your destiny as you specialised into advertising and marketing.
It's been seven years and you've nearly achieved what you wanted across 6 jobs with leading brands and your own freelance venture later.
Before this happened.
For the first time, I wasn't concerned about us. Somehow, as the days fell by, my concerns about us seemed to grow smaller and smaller. It was about him and only him that I remained concerned about.
What did the future hold for him, I didn't know. Would he come out of this unscathed or would there be some consequence that he would have to live with for the rest of his life. He certainly didn't have any family to fall back on, his Aunt Lucy being the last living relative who was in touch with him before she passed away three years back.
I was his only family left, the thought came through again.
And that's where I felt it.
I felt a shift in his skin when my eyes popped up, too tired to focus elsewhere yet my senses sharp. There were several similar illusions that I'd had in these past few days but when I saw his eyelids flutter, I knew that this was no desperate delusion. He was coming along finally.
My first instinct was to go and call the doctor and yet somehow, I remained rooted to the spot. My hand remained upon his forehead in the same gentle touch, hoping that the touch of my skin would ground him back to reality.
It was slow. In spite of sleep threatening to claim my senses, I was aware of the same battle he was going through, his eyelids fluttering continuously until with what I assumed was painstaking effort, his eyes pushed open to reveal the cornflower blues I'd so direly missed.
And yet I remained silent, waiting for him to adjust to his surroundings, that he did for the next few minutes until his eyes finally found mine.
There were a thousand ways I had imagined this moment and yet it was much more beautiful than I could imagine.
The moment was just one word with a sheepish grin on his face. That word being the only thing that could have assured me more than anything that he was going to be alright.
