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 Posted: Sat Jun 14, 2014 7:21 am
He could feel his own heartbeat quicken beneath her hands, and was sure she could feel it too. The room felt very small, as though it was the only place in the entire world, as though he and Stormy were the only two people that still existed within it and it was a strange feeling, yet it was a familiar one, similar to when he put his forehead against hers in moments of stress or adoration and reduced everything to just them.
"Yes," said Gale quietly. He sat up a little, his arms still around her waist, and tried to figure out the correct combination of words that would make what he wanted to say sound the way it was supposed to. He could see the sudden uncertainty in her eyes, the confusion and conflicting emotions, and it pulled at his heart, made his chest ache.
"I'm sure," he said softly, and he was; but he also knew the reasoning behind her desire and that it was not picture perfect. There was not any resignation in his voice or his expression, no settling for it just because she wanted it; instead, there was a gentle reassurance that no matter what, he would be there for her. As an eighteen year old guy, of course he wanted her closer, wanted to occupy every part of her mind, kiss her until they were both dizzy from it, but as Gale Gentry, boyfriend of Stormy Ortega, he wanted her happy and he wanted her safe. He was not doing it just to make her feel better, but to make them both feel better, because the same desperation that Stormy craved to forget was similar to the desperation he felt to remember.
"Are you sure?" he asked quietly, his hand moving slowly up and down her back in gentle, soothing gestures.
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Posted: Sat Jun 14, 2014 9:14 am
She choked out a small "no" before anything else. Then a "yes." Then another "no." Her fingers curled uncertainly into his shirt. She was quivering ever so slightly, and her eyes were growing glassier. For once, the conflicting emotions and thoughts inside her weren't sustaining, but absolutely painful.
She had always been an indecisive little creature regardless of what name she took on: she'd always choke.
Her shoulders seized with a quiet sob. "I don't know," she mumbled miserably. "I-I don't know anything anymore." Because as much as she professed wanting to know Gale in every way possible, physical intimacy utterly frightened her for reasons she couldn't put names to.
Her hands unclenched and began to smooth his shirt out in familiar motions as she fought back sudden tears by shutting her eyes closed tight. She tried to focus on the soothing motions at her back, but her thoughts always kept spiraling back to the fact that even when given the go ahead, the support, and the freedom, she couldn't do anything at all.
"I'm s-sorry."
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Posted: Sat Jun 14, 2014 11:22 pm
He didn't say anything, waiting for her to finish what she had started to say; the indecision was there in front of him, but Gale was not afraid of it, nor was he upset with it. It was a frightening thing; deep in its emotional values and high in everything else, and it was a step forward off of a cliff, a leap of faith.
He knew, at the very least, a part of her reasoning for the indecision, which was probably why he was not frustrated.
"Hey," said Gale softly, and slid his hands from her waist to rest on her shoulders, squeezing gently. "Hey, it's okay. It's okay, shh..."
Stormy was fiddling with his shirt, smoothing it out in gestures that he remembered, because it was something she did with her hands when she was upset; a desire to not sit still, to be doing something, even if it was just something small and meaningless. Gale shifted his hands again, cupping Stormy's face once more, and there was a small smile on his lips.
"Don't be sorry," he said quietly. "Do you want to just...lay here? I'll hold you for the rest of the night, you can stay with me and we can just...be together."
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Posted: Sun Jun 15, 2014 1:36 am
Deep breaths. Her gestures slowed until it was the lower edge of her palm and the tips of her fingers resting against his chest, just barely enough to catch his heartbeat still (something to go off of, a steady rhythm now). Something in her posture relaxed at the suggestion, though part of her wondered why she hadn't simply thought of that--why not the medium ground instead of one extreme or the other?
(Because she was stupid of course.)
"I'd like that," she said softly after a while as her eyes opened, no longer threatening tears. "I'd like that a lot." She felt a tug in her chest at the sight of Gale's little smile, though, the kind that made her want to return it despite feeling drained. She tried anyway, feeling that its edges were still heavy and falling, but she tried and sniffled while doing so.
Maybe for all of her self-inflicted pain, her masochistic isolation, her accidental starvation, her mental breakdowns, and her irrationally building fears, the simple solution was just to be held and loved without question.
(Or maybe she needed to get shoved in a pod.)
"Can you . . ." She trailed away, her gaze lowering self-consciously. "I said I wasn't going to ask anything else from you today, I know, I'm sorry," (maybe she and lying would just have to go hand in hand now, maybe that was just a sad and disappointing flaw of hers she'd have to accept), "but . . . the poem you recited yesterday, i-is it, um, here? The book, I mean." With the way she phrased it and the manner in which she tugged her hat shyly down, she might have been asking Gale something more intimate.
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Posted: Sun Jun 15, 2014 10:24 pm
He'd said the right thing - or at least, he thought he had. Stormy's entire demeanor seemed to shift a little, her body becoming less tense, as though a weight had been eased from her shoulders. A few moments ticked by in silence as she slowed her movements, and then she was quiet, the tears beginning to try on her face.
Gale felt some of the tension ebb. Her smile, though small and tremulous and rather sniffly, was still a smile, and it made his heart leap beneath her hands, his own still pressed against the sides of her face. He brushed his thumbs over her cheeks, wiping away any of the excess wetness.
His eyebrows rose. "The book of poetry, you mean?" Gale asked, tilting his head a little. "Yes, I still have it, it's in the drawer right here, actually, in my bedside table. I sometimes read it before bed; it's rather calming," he added, a little hesitantly, almost shyly. Gale started to lean away, and then, as though recalling something, came back, tilting his head forward and pressing one last, gentle kiss to Stormy's lips. He lingered there for a moment, his eyes closed, and then drew away, finally lowering his hands from her face.
"Here," he said softly, and leaned sideways, one arm looping around Stormy's waist, half to keep her where she was in his lap and half to keep her from toppling over the side of the bed. He fumbled with the drawer, finally managed to open it, and groped around inside until he came away with a small paperback with a brightly colored cover. Gale settled back against the pillows and held it out.
"What do you want it for?" he asked curiously.
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Posted: Mon Jun 16, 2014 12:51 am
She nodded and smiled a little better at his behavior, though it was still strained; as if she would judge him about poetry of all things. Gale had read her mind about the extra kiss, though, and she leaned into it with gentle greediness of her own, lifting a hand from his chest to brush his cheek and reluctantly letting it fall back down as he pulled away.
"For the same reasons you might," Stormy (Stormy, not some nameless she) explained as he settled against the pillows. "Something calming before sleep. There're a lot of ways to fix a hole inside, though most've mine aren't around. Music, food, family." Smokes, alcohol, though she still was trying not to think about the pack in her pocket and its temptations. She paused, then leaned over and said in a softer, warmer tone, "But I have you, and now I'll have books. It's enough tonight," before kissing his brow, pressing her forehead to the same spot afterwards with closed eyes. Her words came out in a sigh. "Gracias por ser tan paciente, mi corazón."
She reached out and gingerly took the book, treating it like glass as she made herself comfortable, leaning back and using Gale's chest as her own pillow, her legs sprawled out ahead. She stroked the cover thoughtfully. "e. e. cummings, that's right . . . I couldn't remember who it was when you brought it up yesterday . . ." Stormy propped the book up and began to flip through the pages, her eyes already skimming and drinking in various lines. "S'there some favorites you like? I can read some aloud."
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Posted: Mon Jun 16, 2014 11:33 pm
She seemed...well, not happy, in the sense that she was doing leaps and bounds excitedly around the room. Perhaps comfortable was the right word, or even content (though that might have been pushing it. Regardless, it was a nice change from the terrible depression that had since sunk into her, and Gale would take what he could get from it, even if it was only for a short while.
His expression softened as she touched his cheek, Gale lifting a hand to cover hers, wrapping his fingers briefly with hers and kissing her fingertips before he let go.
"You do have me," he said softly, and smiled a little. "And we have a book of poetry from a writer who never stuck to conventional methods, apparently. I've read a bit about e.e. cummings in grade school, and sometimes when I was older, but it was more of his well-known poems and less the poems that are hidden away that should be remembered."
Gale lifted his arms and waited until Stormy was settled before he lowered them back again, sliding them around her waist, his hands linked together and resting on her stomach as she leaned back against him. The book was propped up on her chest, and Gale watched her flip through the pages, snuggling down into the nest of pillows and the warmth of Stormy.
He liked this warmth a great deal.
"You pick," he said, and then softer, a little smile on his face,
"Surprise me."
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Posted: Tue Jun 17, 2014 1:50 am
Stormy hummed softly as Gale slipped his arms around her, lightly brushing her hand atop his to make sure they were secure. "I know the name and maybe one poem, but that's about it, and it was a few years ago . . ." She could see what he meant by not being conventional, judging from the fragmented way cummings' poetry was put together, shedding itself of grammatical rules faster than a heavy coat in summer. Stormy trailed away as she absorbed things in passing, drawn in by this line or that, until it looked as though she was engrossed in the book.
Here was a poet she wished she had been more acquainted with when she was in high school. The way cummings's words flowed spoke to her in a way she couldn't describe.
Vaguely she heard Gale say it was her choice, and in tandem with this wonderful discovery, she knew it would have to be a good one. As Stormy perused the collected poems, she found the one he had recited to her yesterday, (somewhere i have never traveled,gladly beyond--). Her finger rested on it as she silently read it over in full, something warm and tight enclosing her heart, something familiar and tensed tugging at the back of her throat (the fact that he had picked it specifically almost choked her); she was glad Gale didn't have to watch, glad that she could experience these strangely powerful words in full without feeling like she had to hold it in so much. A tear escaped before she realized it had happened at all, and she blinked rapidly to avoid making more as she wiped at her face.
"Hello, sir. I've missed you, though we've never met," Stormy said to the book with a weak smile.
But it wouldn't be a surprise at all to make a repeat performance, and so she skipped over it and made her way through the book. It was only towards the end that she found something that seemed suitable, and she quickly scanned the lines a few times before she was satisfied. Clearing her throat, she nuzzled her head more into his chest, half to make sure her hat was still on (it wasn't, it was tilting right off at this angle and nearly off her head, but she couldn't and wouldn't do anything about it now), half simply because Gale was there (sometimes she had to check even what was most obvious, see and feel for herself what most wouldn't question because everything was questionable, everything was waiting to be rediscovered again and again), and began to recite softly.
now all the fingers of this tree(darling)have
hands,and all the hands have people;and
more each particular person is(my love)
alive than every world can understand
and now you are and i am now and we're
a mystery which will never happen again,
a miracle which has never happened before--
and shining this our now must come to then
our then shall be some darkness during which
fingers are without hands;and i have no
you:and all trees are(any more than each
leafless)its silent in forevering snow
--but never fear(my own,my beautiful
my blossoming)for also then's until
The moment after was a lull, the way she knew from playing piano: the end of a piece, where the pedal held out one last note or one last chord, sustaining it, the audience, maybe even time itself, all waiting
waiting
and then all taking a breath as the pedal was lifted.
kuroopu grammar at 3am? preposterous!
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Posted: Thu Jun 19, 2014 4:36 pm
He liked that she wanted to read it; and he liked that she liked that he had read it so that he could share something with her, so that he could try and understand her love and passion for words and for poetry. Stormy's mind was a curious thing, sometimes chaotic, sometimes quiet, but it was always interesting, at least to Gale.
That, and he always loved the sound of her voice, especially when she was reading poetry. Even when it was scratchy and uncertain, even when it was hoarse and remorseful, her voice had that lyrical, magical quality to it that he couldn't put his finger on. And maybe it was just him exaggerating things inside of his mind, but either way it was something that he found incredibly special.
Gale settled down against the pillows, arms securely around Stormy's waist as she began to read. Her hat had slipped; he could see the faint fuzziness that spread over her head where her hair used to be, and although it made him a little sad to know he couldn't run his fingers through her hair, it didn't change his view of her, or his opinion that she was still the most beautiful person to him.
(He may have been a little biased, but that was beside the point.)
The words of the poem floated through the room, little drops that fell into Gale's ears that made his skin tingle. He rubbed his thumb absently over Stormy's abdomen where his hands rested, and he could feel his breath catch in his throat, hear his heartbeat in his ears.
When she finished, the last word rang in the air as though it were deafening, the silence stretching out in front of them. Gale's lips curved upwards in a smile, and he tightened his hold on her, just a little, bending his head to press a gentle kiss to Stormy's cheek.
"Beautiful," he said softly.
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Posted: Thu Jun 19, 2014 6:21 pm
"It is," she agreed with a better, softer smile. Stormy closed the book and hugged it to her chest as if trying to absorb the whole of its words into her person, and for a moment--one lengthy, infinitesimal, unburdened wonderful moment-- she just breathed. There was something strangely intimate about the moment, as if she had given more of herself than it seemed. But for once, it didn't make her panic; today, at least, she had finally found a modicum of peace.
(Maybe fasting all this time was letting her transcend her usual limitations. She did feel lightheaded, but she swore it was from forgotten happiness.)
At length, her arms uncrossed. One remained with the book, the other rested over his hands so that they'd stay in place as Stormy scooted up, sliding off Gale's chest and lying against the pillows with him. She tilted herself towards him, her hat falling off completely in the process, scooted closer, and presented the book to him.
"Your turn. Then I'll sleep."
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Posted: Fri Jun 20, 2014 8:37 pm
He felt it too; the strength of their connection, the feeling of something special shared between them, and it made him feel warm and fuzzy inside, tingles spreading up and down Gale's spine. Stormy was shifting in his arms, and he almost didn't notice, still too overwhelmed by the passion in her reading of the poem; and it was only after she had settled herself against him that Gale dragged himself away from his inner musings with a little shake of his head.
A smile touched his lips. "All right," he agreed, as he took the book from her fingers and flipped through the pages. "One more, just for you."
It took him a few moments to decide which one he wanted; Gale turned to page eight-three and smoothed his thumb over the text, clearing his throat. He was suddenly (stupidly), a little nervous, and the first few words came out somewhat haltingly, not nearly as composed as he wanted them. But after the next lines he began to relax into it, his arms still looped around Stormy's waist, the warmth of her still curled around him.
It wasn't nearly as filled with magic and passion and ethereal-ness as Stormy's reading had been, but the raw emotion was there nonetheless.
"i carry your heart with me(i carry it in
my heart)i am never without it(anywhere
i go you go,my dear;and whatever is done
by only me is your doing,my darling)
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx i fear
no fate(for you are my fate,my sweet)i want
no world(for beautiful you are my world,my true)
and it’s you are whatever a moon has always meant
and whatever a sun will always sing is you
here is the deepest secret nobody knows
(here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud
and the sky of the sky of a tree called life;which grows
higher than soul can hope or mind can hide)
and this is the wonder that's keeping the stars apart
i carry your heart(i carry it in my heart)"
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Posted: Fri Jun 20, 2014 11:18 pm
She nestled against him some more when he cleared his throat, her eyes falling closed as he read. It helped her imagination come out of hiding, put pictures to the words that were written by a different person that sounded very much like Gale had written it himself. It didn't matter that there wasn't an overt zeal the way he read it: there was a deep and innate sincerity that couldn't be matched, as if he weren't reading anything at all but instead letting her peek inside his mind in that very instant. It wasn't her whimsical tone because it was something better, something more present and real--and she was humbled by it.
Gale had always had a marvelous control over himself even when opening up, and she wished she had half as much courage.
Stormy didn't move an inch until he finished. Once he had, she tucked herself against his side, looped an arm over his stomach to secure herself, and pressed her face into his hair a mere inch or so from his ear. She mumbled things into his sunset locks that couldn't be understood verbally, but if smiles made noises, then those were the kinds that they made--hers was loud and quiet and sad (though not quite as much now) and happy and tired and touched and adoring all at once--and then she kissed his hair to seal that little prayer. They seemed to be working at least.
"Thank you," she whispered. She nuzzled her head against his, and as much as she still felt ashamed about her haircut, there was something to be said about the way her bare head felt against his, the way the fuzz bent and bounced back and sent little shivers down her back. "Thank you," she repeated because it bore repeating, because she couldn't stand on her own just yet and would have to lean on him more in the coming days and would never be able to pay him back for it.
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Posted: Sat Jun 21, 2014 11:36 pm
Her hat had fallen off entirely sometime during the course of his reading of the poem, Stormy's fuzzy, shaved head in full view - but Gale had never her found her to be more beautiful. Her face pressed into his hair, her nose beside his ear, and then she was whispering things, her words muffled, most of them nonsensical, some of them just words, feelings, emotions that didn't need to be spoken, but that were understood all the same. Gale could feel the weight of them, the warmth that spread across his face and throughout his whole body.
It was a strange and wonderful feeling of contentment that he wished he could experience repeatedly for the rest of his life.
She kissed the side of his head, and then nuzzled against him, Gale's eyes flickering, his lashes falling half lidded as he turned his face towards hers, catching sight of the smile curved on her lips. He lifted a hand and touched her cheek, sliding his fingers down over her jaw and back up again in little sweeps, just to feel the warmth.
"You're welcome," he said softly, and then, unable to resist, Gale slanted his head towards hers, tilting Stormy's face up so that he could press a gentle kiss against her lips. He smiled against her mouth and then drew away, his forehead resting briefly against hers.
"Now sleep," he whispered in amusement, and leaned to set the book on the bedside table before shifting on the bed. Gale twisted onto his side, his legs sliding beneath the blankets, and he pulled Stormy to him, her back against his chest, wrapped an arm around her waist, and buried his face in the crook of her neck. His grip was tight for a moment, Gale overcome with the sheer emotions of relief and adoration; but then it loosened, and he sighed against her, giving her space to get comfortable and move if she wanted.
"I love you," he said unnecessarily.
"I love you," he added, just in case the first time wasn't enough.Ol-j-man hopefully this makes sense arghhhh late night / med induced tags @@
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Posted: Mon Jun 23, 2014 12:26 pm
She kissed him gently and let herself get pulled in under the covers, willingly clinging to him with drooping arms and rapidly increasing sleepiness until they were settled. It was as if her tiredness had finally caught up with her, held at bay by magical, poetic words until the silence had reigned and let it come back. The phrase "like a brick" was too harsh for the feeling, but Stormy had never felt so winded and drained so quickly before. It was her own exhaustion mixed with the warmth of Gale's arms that must have compounded it. No, not just his arms, nor even his body in general, but the heartbeat she faintly felt against her back and strongly in the press of his wrists, the breath tickling her neck, the irrevocable warmth spreading from him to her by sheer proximity alone as well as by touch.
Spooning. She smiled to herself because for a moment they almost felt normal, and that was when she knew that regardless of what happened, it would be okay: because they could still feel natural even when she acted and thought anything but, even when she knew tomorrow was a gamble, and the next day, and the next. Maybe that feeling wasn't the hormonal haze she had kept as an excuse as a what if solution at all, but the real deal. Something she still feared and craved in equal amounts. Love. (Love?)
Gale said it twice and could say it hundreds more times and it wouldn't be enough. Maybe that was love, too. Maybe it was the need to consume everything a person was willing to give. Maybe...
(Not yet.) Not without being better. Not without making sure it came at the right place and the right time. Not without making sure her heart was completely in it.
(It was. The veins were pumping something else right now was all, bittersweet was and lingering sadness, quietly desperate need to bottle it all away and get back to being normal. When that was done, love could be welcomed back like it had yesterday; without the taint of sadness, she could be complete for him. Everything would be okay.)
"Maybe one day'll lomme too," Stormy mumbled sleepily, grateful for the inches of space (the moments to breathe and remember they were two people and not one) but more grateful that his arms remained around her. She curled and brought her knees up and her hands down over his in hopes that they'd never leave (she had never felt so thin and weightless and needed the tethers to keep her safe). As her eyes fell closed as heavy weights and her mouth grew slack, she issued a soft hum that could have meant anything at all--thank you again, good night, have sweet dreams, I love you too--and promptly fell dead asleep.
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