Bunker Atmosphere

Bunker Atmosphere 1

"It's hard, isn't it — cleaning the slate and changing your life's agenda?" He whispered, eyes shooting left and right, up and down.
"No," I said proudly, "Fond of it if anything."
"You're telling me that you've never wanted to go back or wish you hadn't gotten into this mess?" A weak smile covered the lower half of his face. Though I didn't look, I could see his hands shaking in his lap.
"Mess? I'm not in a mess." I said, trying to calm his unidentified nerves. "I feel at home here. No, it isn't ideal, but my life before was miserable. Despite a few bumps and bruises, I'm happier than I've ever been."
"Really? You love it that much here?" His voice trembled to match his hands.
"I do."
Letting out a long, exasperated sigh, he leaned his hands on his knees. "When I became a part of this gang, I felt so lost." He ran his fingers through his hair and the strokes stayed where he hadn't washed it in days. "Of course, I was an outlaw prior to joining but—" he adjusted his belt— "there was something about me that felt out of place. Something that made me feel like I didn't belong."
"Seriously? Don't you think I felt out of place when I first met you guys?" I said, the slightest bit offended. "I was a princess, Bowie. Royalty. I'm sorry but I don't think the playing field is all that even."
"Well, I—" It appeared as if something in his brain clicked, "You're right. I'm an outlaw. I belong here. With a gang of outlaws. You could say it's meant to be."
His words left my wheels spinning. To my surprise, he sounded perturbed, on the edge of hurt.
"Goodnight, Edie." His hip bumped my chair when he got up and crossed the room, headed for his cot. He didn't bother to say sorry per usual.

My body was rigid and tense as I awoke.
Although I was sure it was morning, the room was indistinguishable from day to night. To the best ability my body would allow me, I scooted out from the thick layer of blankets. Oddly enough, there were two extra blankets piled atop my bed.
With heavy feet, I shuffle over to the window, eyes half-open, and pull the curtains. Instead of sunlight flooding in, it's still dark. What just happened? My foggy mind wondered. I tugged at the fabric and began to call for help.
"Bowie," I mumbled, sure he could hear me from the other room. Getting no response, I said it louder, "Bowie!" Finally, with the urge to see the sun overpowering me, I yell. "Jesus Christ, Bowie Eden, come help me open the goddamn curtains!" At this, all the men groan.
After a couple more tugs, Bowie arrives, hair askew, partially asleep, and of course, pantsless. Every morning when I see him half-dressed I can't help but wonder, what man in his right mind sleeps not shirtless but pantsless?
As he makes his way over, I take a seat on my cot, preparing for at least a few minutes of curtain pulling but am shocked when he jerks them open in one swift movement.
"Maybe you're not cut out for the gang, princess." He turned slowly and reached to ruffle my hair, but I caught his wrist in time.
As his wrist flashed in front of my face, a black smear caught my eye. When I drew his wrist closer to me, he started jerking away in a panic.
A tattoo. Not so astounding for an outlaw. Getting illegally inked, pretty typical, right?
"What the hell is this?"
"Edith, let me go."
"You have nothing to hide now. I know exactly where this is from."
Just as I storm out of the room, he calls after me.
"Edith, I swear I can explain!"
My neck tightens. I felt the muscles in my arms twitch, wishing to lurch forward and hit him; my newfound life had left its wicked mark on me.
"Damn straight you can explain. Why don't you start now?"
And there he stood, mouth agape as if my glass-sharp words surprised him. Either that or he didn't know where to begin telling his story.
By now, all the men were surrounding us, caught up in the drama. Every single one of them has the same expression as Bowie. From the crowd, Ham came forward until he was face to face with Bowie. Both with their mouths still not quite shut, Ham jerked his wrist in front of his face.
"I don't get it. It's just a few lines," Ham said, his voice abrupt in the small kitchen.
"Along his veins," I mumbled, waiting for a word from Bowie.
"Your point?"
"It's an Algation marriage tattoo."
Ham's jaw dropped further. "Algate?"
Red turned to the action and shouted, "Marriage?"
The whole time, Bowie stood slumped over without a peep.
"Only two people in Algate have that marking," I said.
Bowie grips his own wrist and stares at the black lines. "The prince—"
"And the princess," I finished, licking my thumb and wiping away the makeup that hid my minimalistic tattoo.
All the men started to speak at once, asking if we were married if we were going to be.
"No!" I shouted as loud as I could. "Bowie and I just need a moment to talk to each other."
"Husband to wife," Jewel murmured.
I whipped out my dagger and swiped it in front of his face. "Knock it off."
Everyone filed out of the kitchen and into the basement to give us privacy.
With a new wave of emotions, I tucked my dagger back into its rightful place and gazed at the rotting wooden floor. Slowly, guilt started to flood my senses. "Bowie, I'm sorry for what I said last night," I whispered.
Bowie rubbed over every inch of his face with his callused hands. "Well, I'm the one that lied about my past life so I guess that's what I get."
"No, but I told you that the playing field wasn't even when it was. I made your problems smaller than mine and that isn't okay."
"But it is okay because, your words, they don't hurt me. It doesn't matter. Honest mistake."
"'Honest mistake'? No, Bowie, no. It's not an 'honest mistake' when I make accusations like that. But, listen, you acted like you were fine so how was I to know?"
Now, his words began to shake. "Well, you never asked. I mean you saw me with this ragtag team of outlaws and thought 'wow he just fits in so effortlessly with the rest of them' but what if I told you it was all a show and I really don't know what the hell I'm doing here. But how were you to know when you never asked?"
All I could do was stare blankly at him, utterly speechless. He had me pinned.
"You've been surrounded by strong men all your life. It's weird seeing a guy break down and show emotion like this isn't it?" With those words, his last hurrah, he made eyes with the door and walked out with tears in his eyes.
It was all I could do to keep my place, standing still, in the middle of my bedroom. Until I couldn't. I ran. And my bare feet pounded against the damp ground with every overwhelming heartbeat. Then I saw him in the midst of the trees different from any other man I'd ever seen before.
"Bowie," I shouted, my voice broken with heartache. He whipped around and wiped his cheeks with the back of his hand. "I never want you to feel like you can't be the way that you are around me. I've cried in front of you so many times without a single complaint from you. But you caught me, I've been taught that this isn't right coming from a man but, oh my God, you're only human."
He began to approach me with obvious hesitation. Once we were face to face, he took my hands in his and placed his sorrowful gaze on my eyes. "I'm sorry," He took one hand and placed it under his eye to restrict his tears. I put my hand on the side of his head and ran my thumb along the frame of his face. "I'm sorry for being this way."
"You don't have to apologize for being," I whispered.
The scene before me was starting to feel inconceivable. Both of us were moving in closer, the prior hesitation now relinquished. But the pounding in my chest ensued—intensified. When his lips met mine it was like I had waited for the moment my entire life. Everything around me, the babbling brook, the gentle rain, it all seemed to melt away. For a moment, reality had left me and it took his gentle touch on my neck to snap me out of it. And yet, the raw emotion still enveloped us even after I realized it wasn't a dream at all.
"I've never felt more loved," Bowie said as he pulled away from me, still so close his lips lightly brushed mine when he talked.
"That's all I want," I said, switching my stare rapidly from his eyes to his lips. A giddy smile took me over.
And for the second time, he pressed his warm lips to mine while I tried to stay grounded in reality. I pushed my feet into the muddy ground below me, trying to get on my tip-toes. Bowie tucked my hair blindly behind my ear as he continued to kiss me. I open my eyes for a split second to see his freckles and imperfections up close. So beautiful. Undeniably human.
Bowie inhaled sharply through his nose before parting the space between us, slowly pulling his lips from mine. He pressed his forehead against mine as strongly as he could. "I love you," he whispered, "So far beyond anyone I've ever loved before you." His tears continued. "You are my everything, Eden."
I pull his hands up to my face and kiss his knuckles. "We're here now. We're together," I said, fighting off tears of my own.
He gave me another quick kiss and embraced me, burying his face in the curve of my neck. I held him close to me, trying as hard as I could to bring him the comfort and stillness he deserved.