Being Blinded

Chapter Twelve

I can't remember a time in my life where my bones have felt this weightless and my mind so rested, I'm sure it's happened before but I can't find that familiarity as awareness presses through my muscles.

Everything around me is warm and comforting, musk and vanilla are a lullaby that I find myself still entranced by, there's a lightness that tells me that it's bright outside and I haven't woken. A sharp pain in my abdomen that tells me my body is revolting against being unable to pee for so long, but our bodies have sunk down into the snug depths of the sofa.

If I was still clouded by the fog of sleep, I would say I don't know where I start and we begin, one arm still laid vertical underneath my neck while the other has smoothed all the way around my waist and buried itself against the bare skin of my back. At some point in the night, I lost feeling in my left arm, folded between our chests with my fingers curled into the front of his jumper.

My other hand clutching the crumpled side, like even in my sleep the fear of him dropping out on me doesn't waver. Recedes slightly because there was sincerity in his eyes last night that I couldn't criticise, for as much as my own anxiety runs rampant in my head, we won't get anywhere if I can't give him a chance to prove himself.

I think the other side of the coin is the massive sense of disbelief that is a constant heaviness in my body, and even as I become surer of his emotions. Everything around us still lacks the stability that I crave, the sureness that comes with knowing someone is going to stick around.

It's the least sure time of our lives and yet I want him to be a constant in mine, while having no clue where I want to go, and I can't pretend I don't know that he does. It's one thing to be willing to do a hard thing for someone else, and something entirely different to make your decisions around them.

My legs shift against his, trying not to jostle him awake as the pain in my abdomen shifts again and I realise I am likely to pee my pants in the next three minutes. Which unsurprisingly isn't going to make him keen to stick around, though a part of me insists that he might.

The house is silent as I pad to the small room under the stairs, the washroom really doesn't get as much use from us as it does for the boys. Despite the fact that the smell crawls out from under the doors sometimes, I have come to appreciate that it's not upstairs and that it proves to be a good place to regroup when the boys aren't around.

There's strands of red hair stuck to my cheek, living rivets and indents in their wake, the marks of folded fabric cause intricate patterns all the way up my temple. I can't recall the last time sleep looked so good on me, even if the sun shining doesn't equal a late start, I still find it hard to believe I didn't wake.

Something about Alfie's words last night provided a comfort so deep that just for last night I found quiet in his arms, will it happen all the time? Doubtful, because even I am not foolish enough to believe that this man is the key that'll set me free of all my sleepless nights.

Now in the last year I have spent more time in men's arms than before, which was none unless you counted Hugo and his love for snuggling. Carter wasn't awful but Archer snored like a foghorn, and everyone else between then and now possessed this innate ability to make falling asleep harder, without even trying. Except for Jeremy, I am half convinced that him being particular about his sleeping habits was just his excuse to be an asshole.

I'd say I have a track record for choosing emotionally unavailable men to date but the only one who was truly unattainable just spent the night with his arms wrapped around me. With open eyes that keep pulling me further and further into his orbit, it's disorientating for it to be real right now.