God & Sinner

2. Guardian

My eyes fluttered open slowly as I woke from my sleep, ready to engage in a new day. The alarm I'd set for work hadn't gone off yet, which meant I should've still been among the dreamers, and I wondered what it was that had woken me. It wasn't like my sleep had been restless; on the contrary, I'd dreamed such beautiful and perfect things, and it was almost a shame that I'd departed from them so soon. Yet I found that I wasn't the only one ready and aware. James lay motionless beside me, his comforting blue eyes beholding me with affection as a smile crept across his face to break him from the stone. It occurred to me that I would rather be with him in waking than in whatever idyllic dreams I'd been having—it was an easy choice. There was no way to compare, it was him, always him.

"Hi." He whispered, laughing lightly when he did. The motion caused his mouth to crinkle in the corners, and I couldn't help but stare. He was flawless, in everything he did, and had it ever before been a question unanswered, I now knew. I'd never thought I would find something like him. Not someone, something. It was one thing that he was gentle and patient and filled with the kind of wonder that most everyone else lost along the way. Yet it was entirely different when it came to how he made me feel. He made me believe again; brought the sun into my shadows, returned hope to a heart that had given up on such a thing so long ago. I'd never believed I would have that.

"Hi." I whispered back. Even though I did my very best to mimic him, to return a genuine smile of my own, I knew it could never mean to him what his did to me. I understood exactly what he had to offer, which only made me wonder—and fear—why he would think that I was deserving of him. I was not gentle. I was irascible and could no longer remember just where it was that I'd left my innocence. But he'd chosen me, and even though I didn't understand, I did not question it because I did not want to give him back. I wanted to keep him. I'd never had this before—my first thought and sight in the morning being him—but I found that it fit well. Like it always should have been. "You slept over."

"I hope that's okay." His smile only widened, and I knew that he didn't need my assurance to know that it was. It was clear that, for whatever reason, he was comfortable here with me too. Before I even realized it, I found my hand leaving my side, crawling across the covers to bridge the chasm between us, only so that I could run my fingers through his smooth auburn hair. He liked it, and as if he flourished upon my touch I could've sworn he began to glow. After I'd moved my hand to his cheek he trapped it there, burying his face into it before pulling it away and kissing my palm. "I know we have a rule about that, but I just didn't feel like going home."

"Good. I didn't want you to go." Again I laughed, lightly and under my breath. It was a game I was playing with him, testing the waters. It wasn't his rule, it was mine. All mine. I was the one who was afraid, who never wanted to commit, who always needed the way out. Before, in any other situation, with any other guy, things would go too fast, or too far, and I'd panic. I'd feel the noose tightening around my neck, the chain on my ankle, the water rising over my head. I'd learned how to handle that—to keep people at bay—so I had my rules, stupid rules that I was stupid enough to impose on him. I was surprised he hadn't run. "I'm glad you stayed."

"Me too." James really was perfect. He didn't say too much, he gave me space, opting to continue gazing at me with an intuitive focus. What was it about him that moved me so? With him I felt free, and it was the first time I had never needed to push someone away. Yes, he truly made me believe again. It was subtle, nothing he did to push me in that direction, he was just there. Always there. Like a beautiful flame I knew would scorch my wings I was drawn to him, but I couldn't care. I didn't want it to end, I didn't want for him to walk out of the door and leave me to wake back to this quiet and empty apartment that somehow felt colder when he wasn't near.