A Revolution In Shadow And Blood

Monsters

Waking up the next morning is a very pleasurable experience. I stretch still lying down with my eyes closed, like heavy weights are attached to my eyelashes. Then an arm pulls me into a hard, warm, body. I open my eyes to see a beautiful image of Ben sleeping. His eyes are closed and his face is completely relaxed. He looks younger without the stress lines between his eyebrows. My eyes soften. Seeing him like this makes me truly understand how lucky I am.

We must've fallen asleep playing twenty questions last night, but I don't mind that one bit, because last night were the best hours of sleep I've gotten in a long time. I curl into his warmth as the blanket is tangled around our legs, barely reaching his waist. Slowly, I gain the courage to trace my fingertips across his chest, up his neck and onto his face. Different invisible patterns float in my vision, hearts, flowers, vines, and leaves. Each one I outline on his skin. When my fingers reach his cheek and jaw, a small noise escapes his mouth and he nuzzles into my palm. I smile, and continue my exploration. My fingers curl in his hair, gently combing knots out of it.

It takes a moment before I realize that his eyes are open, watching me. I freeze with my hands in his hair. Tentatively, I whisper, "Good morning."

He yawns, and pulls me closer to bury his nose in the crook of my neck, "Good morning, angel."

I grin into his shoulder, remembering the few months when he constantly called me that. I still don't understand why though. I'm practically the opposite of an angel. "I didn't think I'd miss that nickname," I respond, enjoying his cuddles, "But I really did." I sigh contently, and let my eyelids fall again, my hands now tracing the lines of his arms. Sleep pulls at me again, luring me into its dark abyss slowly, knowing that the feeling of safety that curls around me drops any worries I have about following the pull. Until Ben's hand brushes my jaw and pain shoots through it.

"I should've made you ice this last night." Ben grits out, his eyes fixed on the spot where I'm sure an ugly bruise is.

"I'm alright, Ben," I tell him, gently pulling his hand and eyes away from the mark.

He shakes his head as much as he can against his pillow. "I should've been there to protect you."

"You can't always be there, Ben. Being with me when you can is enough." He finally meets my eyes, and I hold his gaze to prove that I truly believe what I've said. The moment is broken when my stomach lets out a gurgle to rival a toddler with milk. I grumble incoherently as Ben laughs, and I can see his raised eyebrows and half smile. "Hungry?"

I pull my hands through my hair, hoping I don't look as much of a mess that I feel. "How'd you know?" I respond sarcastically.

Ben stands up, and I wrap the blanket around me as he carries me over to the counter so I can watch him make breakfast. But first, he fills a Ziplock bag with ice, and wraps it in a towel. He gently presses it to my jaw, where I feel instant relief, even if it is freezing. He holds it there for a moment after I put my hand over his, and we lock eyes again. Vaguely, I can feel his emotions. Anger and guilt that I was hurt. I open my mouth to say something, but he pulls away quickly and the moment is gone. Ben starts the food by getting eggs, ham, and cheese out, with a pan on the stove. Holding the ice to my jaw, I ask him, "What are you making?"

"Cheese melt. I hope you like it. It's probably one of my favorite breakfast foods," Ben responds, placing four slices of ham onto the buttered pan.

I peer around him as he works. "Can I help?"

"Sure. Bread's in the cabinet next to the fridge. We're going to need toast." he points to the cabinet in question, and I reach over to start on my job. Once the first pair of bread slices is in the toaster, I watch Ben cook in silence. After the ham is warmed up and slightly crispy, he puts cheese on the top, and waits for it to melt. Next he puts them on two plates, and cracks four eggs into the pan, over-easy style. Once they are done, he places them on top of the ham slices. Then my work is put into place, to make four sandwiches. He carries me to sit on a bar stool at the island, and we both dig in. I've got to be honest, the sandwich tastes really good. I hold in a moan as I take the first bite, and though he doesn't say anything, Ben is pleased. Silence descends on both of us while we eat, just enjoying one another's company.