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CHAPTER TWO. The Sun sings LoveㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤDon't look here, there is nothing to see, there is no one.ㅤㅤTHE ART OF STARVINGㅤ/ㅤsam j. miller
ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ
ENGLAND, MARCH 25TH—APRIL 1ST 2019
ㅤㅤLOVE, Kiko thinks, is the beginning of a lot of stories— and ends, in the same sense. Think of it as the sun— suspended in whatever pit of unlucky black that has the capacity to haunt the common man, and people as the planets that stand firm around it. The Big Bang comes around, in this analogy at least, because of love, because something out there was lonely enough that its devastation created millions of lives; it swallowed empty corpses and spat out a child with the remaining bits of warmth scattered around. Astronomer Eudoxus is the first to propose that the universe, our Milky Way, revolves around the Earth. Humans are like that, they like to think they're the centre of things, and while Kiko is always telling her son something along those lines, something rudimentary like he's the hero of his own life, it is different. And how she hates it for being so. The sun has lived longer than us and love will outlive us. Hopefully. That's the successful way of living, right?
Right. That's why she copes with Jay waking her up in the way he does.
Jay's always been a horrible sleeper. When he was a baby, Kiko was told that it is normal, they wake any time they want, crying, and pull us down with them. It was more unnerving to have him sleep peacefully through the night, than to hear him scream and cry like he was mourning. Babies have their own way of doing things after all, mothers just seek to understand those habitual practices. Kiko is, in a way different to Jay, also a horrible sleeper. Where a part of Jay will always linger in the waking land, Kiko has no regrets leaving it behind; Jay tosses and turns in minuscule movements— like he's fighting paralysis, Kiko is the type to fight with abandon; Jay wakes at the slightest of sounds; Kiko could sleep through a marching band.
Jay has perfected being louder than a marching band.
Waking up nearly deafened is no longer surprising to Kiko, her face rolls into her pillow with a groan as she swats aimlessly at Jay's face. She's just about awake enough to see him dodge it, but he remains close enough to hold the two phones to both of her ears, playing that Godawful Samsung alarm ringtone that she's hated since she was a teenager and shouting wake up at her. After a few seconds of playing back and forth with sleep, Kiko gives in as Jay rocks his weight on the bed, making it shift underneath Kiko. "I'm awake, I'm awake," she mumbles, pushing a lazy hand against Jay's thighs that have trapped her. "Time?" She yawns as Jay is getting off her.
"Nine," Jay hummed, turning off the alarms on both phones and placing Kiko's phone back onto her bedside table when he's back on the floor.
His answer has Kiko shoot up, a natural shot of caffeine overriding her system, as her eyes bulges at him. "Nine?" She repeated, her tone incredulous as she rushes to throw the blanket off her lap. "We're late!" Panicked, Kiko takes around the room like a bull to red, flinging her closet open as she uses one hand to pick through clothes and the other trying to straighten out her bed hair.
