The Function to Breathe

Thirty Seven

Later that day I'm able to pick Ricky up from the hospital and we take the train home. Secluded in the first class carriage and partly disguised by a tweed cap and sunglasses he sleeps most of the way home, his head rested on my shoulder.

Even so we're both exhausted by the time we get home and Ricky looks pale. His cold has well and truly taken hold now and his voice sounds scratchy and raw, it's a good thing he hasn't got any singing to do for the next few days. I'm not a bit surprised when he goes straight to bed as soon as we get in.

I go to bed as well, partly because I'm almost as tired as he is but also because I just want to snuggle up with him, be close to him and be there if he feels ill or needs anything.

The next day I get up as normal and go back to working on the dress I'd left so quickly a couple of days earlier. It seems that it's longer than 48 hours ago that Simon phoned me, but that's all it is. Ricky stays in bed as he's been told to and spends most of the next couple of days sleeping or watching the TV murder mysteries he finds so comforting.

I'm been quite surprised that Ricky does as he was told and rests, I wasn't sure that he would, but I think that he was more shaken than he'd admitted by how differently this could have turned out, by how serious it could have been.

While he sleeps my dress slowly takes shape again. It had been left half pinned on the tailors dummy which hadn't done it any good at all; the fabric was frayed and torn in places where it had been left hanging from the sharp pins. Luckily I had plenty of fabric left over because I've been forced to start from scratch, trying to match the vision in my mind. It's taken two and a half days, but finally the dress that stands in front of me on the dummy looks almost exactly like the one that has been floating in my imagination for so long. It's as close as I'm going to get it anyway.

Giving the draped fabric a final adjustment I get to my feet and tuck a stray strand of hair back into the clip I'd messily piled my hair up with earlier. It's then I notice Ricky standing in the doorway, leaning against the frame watching me.

"Hey," I smile, taking in the sight of him. Barefoot and dressed in a dark blue t-shirt that seems to match the colour of his eyes and some faded and ripped jeans he looks better; less pale, less tired. He looks gorgeous in fact. The rest has obviously been what he needed.

Under his gaze I'm suddenly aware of how scruffy and unappealing I must look in my pyjamas, the vest top and shorts both covered in bits of fluff and loose threads I've snipped from the dress as I've been finishing it; my unwashed hair piled messily on top of my head out of the way. "How long have you been standing there?"

"Only a few minutes. I like watching you work; I love the way you bite your bottom lip when you're concentrating. It's really quite arousing," he pushes away from the door frame and walks towards me. "That looks amazing."

"It does, doesn't it?" I can't help but agree, as hard as this dress has been to get right I am delighted with how it's turned out. As Ricky reaches my side he slips his arm around me and I lean into him, resting my head on his shoulder with a small sigh. "It's taken far longer than I thought it would."

"It looks like it's been worth every minute though." He steps in front of me and puts both arms around my waist. "Is that it then? Are you finished now?"

I slip my arms around his neck before answering. "Not quite. I've got a couple of bits to finish next week, but I'm waiting for some lace I ordered. I should be able to pick that up on Monday or Tuesday, but there's nothing left to do until that arrives."

"Good," He moves one hand up my back to rest on the nape of my neck, his fingers splaying in my hair and I try not to think of the fact that my hair needs washing as he lifts the other hand to my face; it lingers millimetres away from my skin as his blue eyes gaze at me intently. Finally he touches my face softly, his fingertips tracing the dark circle under my left eye. "You look tired my love."