Moonlight Kisses

what you don't know

present day.

Waking up to the steady sound of a heart rate monitor and overhead lights beaming on me, here I am again staring at the same blank walls, the same itchy white sheets in the same baby blue hospital gown.

What the fuck happened to me?

Unwillingly so, I remember everything as if it were a film. The lost memories had this glaze over them in my mind, making them appear as if they were shiny and new. When you forget about your life as a whole for an entire year, it can come off that way.

My head hurts. Like there's thoughts in there pounding on its walls incessantly. Piercing into every nook and cranny, amassing a frenzy I can't seem to grasp, tearing my once-spotless mind to shreds. And I thought I was bad before.

Nothing could have prepared me for the mayhem I woke up to from a nightmare I could actually remember.

I lull my head to the side, stretching the strained muscles in my neck from being in the same position for however many hours I was out. There's a window showcasing the fresh sunlight pouring into the hospital room, maybe it wasn't all that long.

My heart skips a beat when I notice Beau sitting in the cushioned chair beside the bed. The heart monitor confirms it, so it isn't just in my head.

His eyes are on the floor but he isn't truly present. Not enough to notice me glancing at him. I'm sure there's so many thoughts in his mind. There's still that narrative of a prior night he has yet to tell me, along with many other questions I need to be answered. All of that can wait, there's too much going on in my mind already.

I notice a white bandage on his upper arm. I probably hadn't spotted it earlier today when I was too consumed in my own clueless misery. It's unmissable in his short sleeve shirt. Too big to be nothing.

"Beau," I whisper inaudibly. In a voice so quiet and so hoarse as if I'd spent countless hours screaming at the tops of my lungs. I doubt he heard me, I didn't say it with the intention of him hearing me, I only wanted to feel his name on my lips. Caressing my tongue like it's second nature. It felt like years since I said his name last. I needed to remember how it made me feel.

Surprisingly, he heard me. His eyes shift up to me in acknowledgment. For the split second that he thought he was only hearing things, there was a flash of hopelessness in his eyes. This sad brokenness that I wish I hadn't been the cause of earlier. But then Beau recognizes me gazing at him and that look soon fades. Despondency turns into shock with lingering hues of sorrow. "You're awake," he mumbles so softly. I focus on the way his lips move in order to ensure I heard the right words. He rises to his feet, approaching me with careful steps. As if I were a fragile piece of artwork he was afraid he'd ruin. "How're you feeling?"

Shaking my head softly, my slight movement cut off as he lifts his hand to my cheek. Initiating that move with great precariousness and precision because he didn't know how badly I was craving touch. Any form of warm, solidifying fingertips I ached for. That familiar feeling of his hand against my skin made it light up greedily. Soaking up every ounce of his warmth that I longed for.

"My head hurts," I whisper. I know I have to tell him I remember, and I sure will today. I just can't find the words to. It's a whole other part of my life, a half I completely left out when we were getting to know each other. Telling him about my past would be like learning who I am all over again, both me and him. Instead of realizing these things over the course of a few months, we'd both come to know them within hours at most. Such a short amount of time to learn who someone is.

I put my hand on his. My eyes move to the bandage on his arm. Did it happen while I was out? He has yet to tell me about London, what if it happened there? God, there are so many questions that need answering. So many secrets we're withholding from each other because we're afraid of how the other may react. "When you collapsed, you hit your head," he answers with a sad note in his voice.