Because of Her | a wenclair story.

part 15; woe's ravens.

"Wends, could I tell you something?"

There was an idle quiet that morning, sitting above us like ravens: hungry for my next mistake that would harm the fiery ball of light in my arms. Most mornings, it would be the sound of laughter, and Enid's morning voice — I'd lay in her arms after her continued persistence, and she'd proceed to explain to me how surreal it all felt to her. I wish I had done so in words, too. In their stead came steady, almost controlled breaths, and it was I who held her now — her weary, frail body, I had held as delicate as an oath, and in return, she gripped my frame wearily. 

"Anything," the words were muffled against the light of her blonde. With the morning rays seeping through, the color shifted to golden, and I was grateful to inhale the familiar scent with her this close. 

"My mother," — already, my brows furrowed — "since Parent's Day is close, she. . .well, she's being more her than usual." As she talked, I felt her face move against my shoulder blade: I felt her frown, and the purse of her lips — I could tell when she struggled to express her annoyance, and when it came to her mother, it was always this — the respect she had that the woman carried the weight of a being child-bearer once too mighty for her to speak with insolence, despite her mother deserving of every morsel of anger Enid felt toward her. 

In my attempt to console her, I brushed my palm down the golden strands of her hair, and down again, on her back. I repeated this motion. "Is she upsetting you?" 

"Mhm," she hummed, her frame slumping against mine — causing me to furrow further on the headrest. "I just — really don't want to deal with this, you know? She acts all. . .all kind and nice but she's so casually cruel, she's — she thinks—"

"Your mother is a soul-sucking black hole whose only purpose is to vacuum the light out of you," — I held her closer to me — "that light that belongs only to you. What she thinks doesn't matter, it never will."

I felt a tug of her lips against my skin. A smile. "That's true. . ." I felt a shift and closed my eyes, when I opened them again, in half a second, she was staring back at me. Our breaths almost touched with the proximity, and I felt the warmth of her smile — a weary but genuine smile. "it's just so draining to deal with." 

I nodded and was aware of my jaw clenching. By instinct, I cast a hand on the soft skin of her cheek, and she tilted her head in my palm welcomingly. "How about," — my voice dropped to a mumble, and I was merely addressing my thoughts aloud as I scoured my head to find a solution for her that didn't involve her mother's demise. — "How about I accompany you? I could be with you through the day, for support. . .Or comfort. I don't want to let you go through that alone."

As my words progressed, so did her smile, and my fear she'd reject my proposal cascaded with each breath.

"Are you sure?" The light in her eyes had returned. "But your parents—"

"I'd have you meet them, first. Then I'd go with you. They'll understand." 

Her smile grew, and the ghost-ravens in the room melted with her light. The weight on my chest, too, melted, and for a moment, time slowed as the blue of her orbs kept me still: never again would I serve them with sadness, I vowed. The skin beneath her eyes was swollen, red from the crying. As were her cheeks, and I cradled them in a silent apology. I brought her face closer, and she accepted my invitation: her smile was on mine, and her profuse optimism poured into my throat. 

"Thank you," she said, her voice quiet against my lips. "So much. This means a lot." 

She leaned forward, but our kiss was quick. "Still mad at you, though." She made a face — a frown, pushing her brows together and her bottom lip out, her eyes squinted at the motion, and a smile tugged on my lips as she tried horridly to feign anger. 

"I'm still very sorry." 

Enid's light replaced the ghost-quiet that once occupied the room, and the rays of the sun willingly joined now. And we, dazed by our euphoria, were keen on constituting for what we had lost on the night we spent apart. 

"Take Yoko's cloth off," I instructed, the distaste I had for her scent being mixed with Enid's unmistakable. "Put something else on." 

Yoko's hoodie sprawled on the hardwood floor, forgotten as Enid and I entwined. Closer than ever, we shared kisses — in between each, she'd remind me again she was still upset — but after each, she'd proceed to lean for more. And I was glad to have her warmth back against me. Her laughter came instead of the quiet, and I had her near my ear to hear more of this. For I hadn't realized the extent to which I missed this, our routine. I kissed every inch of her face — every kiss carrying a wordless apology — to the weariness under her eyes, and the creases of her forehead as she scrunched her nose — giggling with each kiss. Her energy seemed to return as we progressed — attempting to bite and stealing quick pecks, so bright with glee. 

I'd do anything for her, I promised then. I'd ignore my reputation, and do for her what she asked. Allow others to bask in our bliss, show them that I belong solely to her. Then, she'd be pleased. And I intended to make her, despite still failing to understand the need to allow other people to see our relationship. 

I basked once more in her smile, her contagious smile causing me to smile as well — which only caused hers to grow — we were laying, and the blanket was long forgotten as the warmth Enid radiated was enough to keep us comfortable. We faced one another, and I stroked her cheek with my fingertips —a mindless movement, like breathing, I caressed her skin, promising to never part again. 

—————

So sorry for the late updates, realized I had a life to live.