It's a strange feeling to see the sunset through someone else's hair. An even stranger one to see the sunrise the same way, the first time at least. But the oddity of it leaves quickly way to an understanding of what is happening, and, barring strange circumstances, to a deep enjoyment of it, and so it did. Then laughing, and smiling, and the soft stroking of hands against cheeks and awkward shuffling to move closer and taste each other again. Because they could. Because they wanted to. It didn't matter what the taste was.
Time had always been a fickle thing, one they had learnt to keep track of in their own ways and unlearnt just as well for different purposes and different causes, and once more they were to learn not to understand it in yet another way. Not an unpleasant experience though, far from it. It was weird. It wasn't something either had experienced before. To not need something more, to not have somewhere to go, something to do. To be at peace, for a little while. It was unusual. Maybe not sustainable. Maybe not repeatable. Had either cared to reason on it they would have come to the conclusion that all that was merely more reason to enjoy the moment.
It was awkward, physically, for a set of reasons, and not just the bed being too small. Human limbs tangled in rather unintended ways when horizontal, and being sideways had unfortunate consequences for arms and shoulders on the bottom even before choosing to place another body on them. Hair got in the way a lot, and one of them ended up with pigtails as a result. They swore to never let knowledge of that leave them, and for once the other actually followed through with it. That was just how things were then, how they were going.
And it was weird. It was weird to care. It was weird and new and wonderful and nothing else mattered for a while, until it did, until it didn't, and looking back it was still there and it kept on being there, and they kept on being there. The taste wasn't nice and that wasn't the point, and it was nice for what it was and not for how it was and it would be different later in the day anyway and it was too early, the night's sleep too late. The window was open, the night hot, the placement of it questionable. Some sleep past the morning, but how could they with what they were seeing?
And yet too weak still to wake, not fully at least, not properly. Lying in that stare of bubbling half-consciousness where dreams flow into ideas and ideas boast the gravitas of dreams, and memories muddy themselves with conjectures and invention. And yet clear as the sky outside, eyes each on the other and there was nothing else, no thoughts or wants or nothing. No looking at the time, no caring about the time. No certainty where the evening ended and the morning began, and which parts of the night came before which other ones. But they didn't care.
Time would pass, as it always did, and maybe one day would on and over them too. Not that day, not the next, and there was no use planning further than that. Plans needed regardless to be made, not right then yet, not for a few hours in the way time was measured outside the confines of their bubble of waking dreams. Or maybe it wasn't that, it didn't have to be that even if it felt like it, maybe that was the point proper. That they could wake and it wouldn't end, that they could want to wake. There was a foreign concept. A wish to open one's eyes in the morning, a wish to lay in bed early at night, to hold and to be held.
Stars had they never known how much a body liked to be held. How the first time left a hole that needed filling and every new time dug it deeper, and they could only imagine how much it would hurt to go without longer than they had. It was such a strange thing. Such a strange and irrational thing to find such a moment of stillness where nothing needed to change, where everything was fine as it was for its own short eternity. Where everything that felt felt right and everything else was denied feeling. To have a life so completely taken by another.
They'd heard the word. They'd never understood it. Never found a proper description of it, never been interested, never read the right material for it, but still they'd found the concept. They'd thought about it. They'd been oh so wrong. It wasn't something they had the skill to put to words. They wanted to write songs about it. Music. Not lyrics. They would try and they would mock each other and they would throw sheets of words in trash bins never to speak of them, but in those moments of lucid drunkenness of feeling where they knew, they knew they wanted to write music about it. They knew it was the only way they could get the feeling through from their soul onto sound. They knew it wouldn't be good enough to do it justice, never enough to make those listening feel even a fraction of it, but they would try nonetheless. It was too much bigger than them to keep it all in.
Sometimes they wanted to cry just to have a way to pour it out. Sometimes tears did come out, no more than calm streams flowing from their eyes without fanfare or throbbing. Just an overflow of emotions. They touched each other, and smelled each other, and looked into one another until they couldn't see what they were looking at. Until they couldn't know what the other was doing. It barely mattered. They kissed. They were both terrible kissers, and they both wanted to go again, to figure out new ways to do so, to find what else they could do. They kissed again, kissed around each other's lips and faces, bit and pecked and licked and nuzzled and then pulled back for no reason other than a whim and a desire to look at each other's faces again. Dazed eyes and messy hair and that subtly purple tinge blue cheeks took on when blushing.
Long fingers entwined and refused to let go, holding tighter as if the other set wasn't doing the same. Tugging, and pulling, and pushing, then resting. Breaths slow as the fog of sleep cleared and their hearts didn't. Kissing again, deeply, embracing each other like they wanted to be one and the same. There was something fascinating about how much give flesh and skin could have before it was bones holding against each other beyond them. Hearts close enough for one to feel the other's beat, lungs breathing the same air, all thoughts abandoned just awhile longer.
Time passed. Less than before, more defined in their wakefulness. One left, with caresses and tender eyes and wordless sighs of longing. The other thought of her while she was gone. Time passed. The roles switched. The rest of the world was at their fingertips' reach, but it would stay there. At least until breakfast. The returned awaited the missing who'd awaited her, and refused to do anything else. Refused to put anything else to her mind but her. Time passed. Together again. As close to one as their clothes allowed again.
They'd slept in their day clothes, only taking the heavier and more rigid bits off. Weather was still merciful enough to afford doing so. The night had run late, and deeper with tiredness than usual. The window sat open too long to pretend the Sun wasn't up. Too late to go back. But they didn't want to go back. Their then was wonderful as it was, and every feather of fear towards the future was outweighed by the joy of living through each moment leading to it. And why worry past the now when it was so?
Awake. Awake enough not to lie, awake enough to speak, but still quiet. There was a beauty to the almost silence, a comfort in the sound of breathing, and a pretence of perpetual stillness in their peace. They knew it wasn't so, but it was nice for a while to pretend they could remain like that forever. Speaking would have broken the spell, and neither wished to do so. Yet both wished to hear the other's voice, for no reason other than who it belonged to. The things a cherished voice could do. They'd never known, they'd only had the faintest ideas through parents or friends. It was nothing like that. It was just as well comparing fireworks to lightning.
A finger on the tip of a nose, a slight pressure, the short lived imprint of a nail on blue skin. Words mouthed, breathed through, with no loudness behind them. A gesture returned. Laughing, of that quiet, soundless variety of smiles and breathy shakes and happiness beaming and simmering without erupting. Fingers found each other again, softly, cautiously, afraid to hurt each other even though they would not. Held against each other without holding on. Fingertips tracing patterns without reason or rhyme over hands and wrists. Soft touches, here and there, looks of questioning curiosity and longing. It was all so wonderfully, unbelievably off.
Things were still so far away. Dozens of minutes, it may as well have been aeons in that state. In some part they wished to sleep again. Physically, certainly, somewhere along mentally too. Biologically they couldn't. Life could wait still, but the silence stretched thin. Competing, then, maybe, over who would break it first. They didn't need to say it, and they knew they wouldn't drag it long, but they both understood what they had chosen to do. It was one of those wonderful, almost mystical moments of shared understanding, where they each just knew. A look at each other, a slight bend in their expression. There was so much to be said with so little when with someone you knew well enough.
And yet, still so much to know. Still so much to learn, to find out, to understand. So much missing. So much uncertainty, of things not told that maybe never would be. Was that right? Was it fair? Was it okay to keep secrets one from the other, to hide those parts of truth that went unquestioned? And when the day came when those questions were asked, what then? Diversion, and gloom looks as a shield? It was a possibility. It was a probability. It struck as unpleasant. Still, yet, it was far, not something to think of then.
A worried look. A frown melting away. There was so much there to live through, so little point in souring the moment thinking of a future that might come. It was not a wise attitude, but wisdom was not their forte in the first place. Their little contest still ongoing, the clock still ticking, hunger began to slither in. She wanted to cook for the other. She said so. Candidly, pretending they'd never been trying to keep the silence in the first place, pretending all the dizzying ways the moments between opening their eyes and finally speaking had felt were not there. To keep them feeling like that. To keep whatever strange spell was on them, by refusing to acknowledge it when entering a proper conscious wake for fear of shattering it.
The other agreed. Smiles. It was all they could wear on their faces that morning, and yet each new one shone through their expressions as bright as the last. They'd never thought anything could be so wonderful for so long, so insistently refusing to grow dull. It wouldn't last forever, they feared and knew somewhere in some part of their minds they refused to shine a light on right then and there, but it didn't matter. It felt like it could. That was still so much better than anything else. They knew how it would hurt if things broke. They'd always both been of the opinion that greatness justified the risks involved, at least within certain limits. The risks there stretched those limits, but then what they had stretched their concept of greatness more so.
It was not something expected, nor expectable, nothing anything could have prepared them for. Nothing anyone had ever managed to communicate to them, despite them having known and closely knowing others who could. It was the most likely option that they didn't want to, but it was a possibility too that they simply couldn't put it to words. They themselves struggled with thinking about the possibility, and saw little reason to attempt. There was nothing to say after all, not when the one they could have wanted to say it to was right there and words weren't needed. Expect when they were. But not for those things.
Another room. They hadn't walked there properly together, and time spent alone scarcely counted for them. They would need to leave each other, physically, at some point, and that wasn't something they wanted to think about. But texting to each sounded like a better way to fall asleep staring at a screen in bed than what they usually did, and they'd always see each other the morning after. And an empty bed was only so much worse than a cramped one, and definitely not at all on their spines. Maybe they'd try a different room another time. Stacking was fun but sadly unfit for long time periods.
The metal clicking of pots and pans and bowls and cutlery was a nice, comfortable backdrop to the scene, occasionally spiced by the dull thump of the fridge door being opened. A few clicks, then the sounds shifted to the softer tune of the fire burning and wood scraping gently against the contents of a pan, and the fizzling bubbling noise of something heating up quickly joined in. That's when proper smell came from the food, and the girls both realised they were hungry despite waking early. Or maybe the smell was just good enough to convince them to eat. Biology was a strange thing, and one neither of them had good grades in.
They did not have many good grades all around, but that was a problem best saved for later. For when they could be terrible at school stuff together, and doubly so by distracting each other. Much like they were already distracting each other. The food came out a little burnt on the bottom, but at least they caught on in time and didn't completely ruin it. The pan would need some extra cleaning, but it was no big deal.
Food was set down. They shared a look. Maybe kissing didn't taste great, but it certainly didn't taste as good after food. Except for chocolate, and some other sweets. Sharing those with a kiss was nice, they'd found out. They would continue to experiment there. But they weren't having anything sweet for breakfast, so they kissed again. It was short, sweet, more focused that the previous ones in bed that morning. Another sign of clarity coming back. They weren't honestly sure if they wanted that, but it was how things were. And if they were together it didn't matter too much.
They weren't going to stay together. Not permanently at least, not the whole of that day. They'd have to say goodbye before night, likely not have dinner together, certainly sleep alone. It was such a silly yet dreadful thing. Such a strange thought that the bed that had been fine until then and overstuffed that night would feel empty the next. Such a strange thought to reach out in the darkness as they'd only recently learnt to do, and find nothing there, and somehow be bothered by that.
The food was good, just a little burnt on the bottom, nothing majorly bad. It was actually good, not merely cooked by the person one loves good. It wasn't stellar, but it was a better breakfast than no breakfast, or a store bought snack. It was tasty, fittingly filling given how early it was. They would have lunch at the other's place. They both thought about it, they both realised it was the most sensible solution regarding how they should organise the day, they both looked forward to and dreaded it in equal measure. But one awkward conversation with older people was worth standing for unquestioned access to each other's homes, dozens of times over.
That fear was still there. That nagging, that uncertainty, that refusal to plan for the future too far ahead. It was scary to march on blindly, but at that point it was scarier to let go. They would try to hold on. Even if things went wrong, they would try to fix them. Maybe it was just as foolish as the first time around, but then as far as they knew that was the point. It was worth getting hurt over, even if getting hurt by it. It brought a strange kind of understanding to know that they were there because someone had felt the same way once. It is often that people play unwillingly ignorant to the depths of each other's spirits compared to their own, and for the two of them that was an above average occurrence in its frequency. Yet to find a depth to themselves still unknown was to be forced to confront that there was more out there. That, and having to account for one another's feelings helped the broader picture too.
They ate in silence, sharing loving glances and gentle taps and rubs with each other's legs, and marvelling at how wonderful it could be to see something as simple as another eating food they liked and feel one's heart swell at their contentment. It was so strange and foreign, to them especially, to be that deeply happy over someone else's smile. They were no strangers to rejoicing at a friend's success, of course, but that was different. Spurred on by far simpler things, reaching far greater depths in intensity. It was unreal, so much it felt almost wrong. Yet they knew it was great enough they would have made themselves miserable for it if that was what it took.
Cutlery rested over empty plates and the two were looking at each other, then aside, blushing, giggling, reaching out to take one's hand into the other's, letting a little more time pass as they pretended it would not. The Sun was high enough through the morning to start taking the room from merely pleasant to warm, but they didn't want to leave it just yet. The outside world would be walking and talking and seeing things and choices and it would be wonderful, it would be together, but it wasn't then yet. Just a little longer. Just a few more minutes they could pretend it was just the two of them. Just a bit more they could pretend it was all a dream, perfect as it could only be in one, an instant stretched on for however long they pleased. Because it felt like it, it felt every bit as good as it should not have been allowed to feel, and they were afraid at any moment it would end.
And yet with every moment it didn't. It was stupid. It was shortsighted and childish and foolish to act and pretend like that would be it. Like there would never be cracks. Like there would never be wrongs. But as long as they could, as long as luck and life let them get away with it, that's what they wanted to do. In there and out of there just as much, whatever may happen, whatever may come. It was not how things would stay. They knew that much, they'd already felt that much. But if it couldn't be forever, it was best to enjoy it all while it was still there. And if they'd fixed it once, they could fix it again, and maybe it really would last so much longer than they thought it would.
There was no finding out without trying. Still, they were silent. Still, they waited a bit more. Looking at each other. Looking straight, deeply into each other, and never seeing an end. Just more and more, enough to get lost in, enough to drown in. Trying to drink it all in. The creases of their skin and the way sunlight touched a face and every strand of hair out of place, and the light quiver of a lip and soft beating of an eyelid and nervous, unattended sliding of a finger against another on a carelessly rested hand. Take everything in, as much as one could, because it would be gone the next breath. Then all new, all again, just as wonderful as the moment before. It was more than they could ever want, and it was theirs, and it was all they cared for.
Silence stretched a bit too thin, and the last shrouds of sleep drifted away from them. It was time to get up, time to prepare, time to head outside and be and exist for others and not just for each other, but for each other too, and not alone. It could be done. They'd gone their lives doing it the other way, there was not really anything hard now that they'd found the good one. But pushing past the little barrier they'd built up still took a moment, a short bit of reflection, a while of shared decision. It wasn't hard, but it took effort, and conscious thought.
No reason it had to be painful though. There was a nagging still, of something forgotten, something it would do no good to leave behind and fester. It was good to set things straight, to answer questions left hanging still, to make things clear and wipe clean the shreds of remaining doubts. It was just as good to sweeten up the moment, to finally let things go and take hold of them and move along. To new things. Different things. And it would be nice, still. It would be together. As long as they managed to, as long as they could, as hard as they could. Still looking at each other. Hearing each other breathe. Seeing each other and knowing what was going on behind one another's eyes, thoughts and dreams whispered in the darkness the previous night. Love. It had seemed such an overplayed word what felt like another life before. She finally understood the point of it. She finally understood, and she spoke.
"I don't know. I honestly have no idea, never had one, and by now I'm starting to think I'll never know. But I'm past the point of worrying about that. I don't know, and by now I don't care. Because I don't think there's a point in me worrying about it when after so much worrying I still can't find an answer, when so much wasted time could be better spent doing something else, anything else, anything without the gnawing worry of the reason why. I don't need one. I've been telling myself that's not true, maybe because others pressured me into thinking that way, maybe because of how I saw life. Not anymore. I don't know, and that's okay, and it's more than okay. I don't know and I don't need to know, because I don't need a meaning to enjoy the now. I don't need anything else beyond how it feels to live right now. Especially not when it feels like this. And I'm not sure I ever would have admitted it to myself without you, so beyond everything else thank you. Thank you for being the reason I don't need a reason."