Night. Late at night, burrowed deep in the darkest dark. Even the night owls have quieted down. No one else exists. There is nothing outside this room, this bed. Everything that doesn't exist is blackness, even the things that do exist are beyond seeing and believing, they are hidden in whispers, seen with hands, felt with hearts.
Everything is ours and the night will never end. We are curled together, neither ending, not beginning, still and spinning together, whispers cocooning us in warmth and happy.
Legs are strewn over legs, heads bent together. We talk. And talk. And talk. The substance measured only by our interest. It matters because we care, we are all caring.
We stop.
A breath, a shared breath.
He kisses my face.
I stop. There are ghosts across my face, dancing, shimmering.
This is space we have not occupied before. Me and Him and We have all been different before.
They still are.
I kiss his face. His cheeks, his forehead, two, three times across. His temple, the soft corner of his cheekbone, the small plane between cheeks and chin. I lay back. There. Equal. Balanced.I settle back into the pillow, curling my face into a cool spot. Safe. Cozy. Happy. This is a moment of beauty. Perfect friendship. Everything is trust and patience and care. This is the life I want. I didn't realize I want.
He leans forward, there isn't much 'forward' to lean, we are already so close, so one. But he does. And our faces line up perfectly. Our foreheads touching, breathing the same breath. Noses pressed together. Eyes perfectly parallel. Equal. Symmetrical. And he kisses me.
He presses the perfect crescent of his mouth to mine.
And I didn't move an inch.a centimeter.
a hair's with.
a single muscle.
If I move it meant... something. Meant something more. But if I stayed exactly still, more still than I have ever been for any reason in my entire life, it was friendship; he cared so deeply for me that lips were hugs and everything was safe.
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