The Coolness of A Dead Man's Hand - Prodigal Son

one - i hung the moon, i hung the stars--i hung them all for you

"I can't do anything, Risa. I've tried and failed, tried and failed, tried and failed--I've tried and failed so many times it's pathetic. I'm pathetic." Malcolm passed the room, rambling on and on, while I sat here helpless.

I grabbed his hand, partially to comfort him but mostly to stop his pacing. He was becoming frantic, I could see, and I didn't know if I could help.

"You're not pathetic, Malcolm." I whisper. "You've been through hell and back so many times, and you have so many scars and wounds and all I want to do is bandage them up. I want to find every scar, every wound, every scratch, and put a bandage and kiss it better. You've tried and failed, I know, so haven't I. But you've done so much good that the failures mean nothing."

Finally, he stopped pacing. Tears welled in his eyes but never falling.

I stood, and wrapped my arms around him and held tightly. Sometimes all we need is a hug.

"But, Risa, you don't understand..." he murmurs, but doesn't fight against my embrace.

"I do understand. I understand that you're a deeply troubled man with an amazing ability. You can look at a person and tell me everything."

" That's just years of reading, anyone can do that." He says, nuzzling his face into my hair.

"Fine, but no one else can see me like you do. You love me like no one else ever has. If I asked you to bring me the moon on a string, would you?"

"Yes, of course, but..." he trails off.

"And you could do it. Malcolm Bright, to me you hung the moon. And you could bring it back on a string."

"You aren't pathetic, you're a survivor. You're my hero. You're the one who hung the moon." I pause. "You're... you're the one I love."

I look up only to see tears dripping down his unshaven face. I reach up and thumb away his tears and cup his face and pull him close.

Malcolm looks down at me and places his hands firmly at my waist and lifts me up so we look eye to eye.

"Risa, I love you." He whispers. He kisses me swiftly. He kisses my cheek. "Risa, I love you." He kisses the tip of my nose. "Risa, I love you."

Finally, after kissing around my face, he pushes his lips firmly on mine.

Against my lips, he whispers once again: "Risa, I love you."

He gently puts me down and I fall into the sofa, and he sits beside me. Tears still stick on his unshaven face but I do not care.

He pulls me to his chest, my head falling just below his shoulder.

Though the silk fabric of his shirt, I hear his heartbeat. The beat is steady, unfaltering--there is one thing about Malcolm Bright that isn't broken. His heartbeat.

I'm not sure if I'm crying, but if I am I don't care. These aren't tears of sorrow, they're tears of love.

We fall into silence, and I sit and listen to the steady beating of his heart.

"Risa, I promise I'll get you the moon on a string."

"Malcolm, I was just playing. You don't have to do that." I say, but I don't move. I hear his heart perfectly and I couldn't bear to be separated.

"You hung the moon, you hung the stars--what more could I ask?"

"Nothing," he says. "I hung the moon and I hung the stars--I hung them all for you."

He pulls me close, closer than we've ever been before. I wrap my arms around his neck and run my fingers through his hair.

He smells faintly of cologne and strawberries. An odd combination, but a fitting one.

Suddenly, he holds me tighter than before. He wraps his arms around my back and pulls me towards him. One hand goes up and tangles in my hair.

I nuzzle my face into the crook of his neck. Here the smell of strawberries and cologne is strong and I savour every moment of it.

I hear Malcolm begin to speak, at first it's nothing but incoherent groans but soon it's clear.

"Risa, I love you. Risa, I love you. Risa, I love you..."

He seems to be in a trace, but he is at peace. His arms hold me tightly to his chest, I couldn't move even if I wanted to.

Instead of fighting, I lay my head on his shoulder and inhale the sweet smell of strawberries and cologne.

I shift slightly, only enough to reach his ear as I whisper, "Malcolm Bright, I love you. I don't need the moon, I don't need the stars--I need you.... Malcom Bright, I love you." 

--

Hello, hello! If you didn't already know, I'm M and the author of these oneshots. I won't do an authors note every chapter, but I wanted to put one here to introduce myself and all that. Most of these oneshots will be told in Edrisa (or Risa)'s perspective because I absolutely love her and want the best for her. There will be some different ones (for example, I'm working on one in Ainsley/third person), but mostly Edrisa. 

~ M