Reflections of Light

Breath

He knew this was wrong.

He knew this was entirely selfish.

He knew.

And yet, he was here.

He wasn't sure what was rationalising this for him. Curiosity? Desire? Jealousy? Greed?

Whatever it was, he knew he'd lost the battle to it this night.

He sat on her window sill, uneasily as if prepared to flee at a moments notice, denying himself entrance into the room.

The curtains blew lazily in the breeze from the open window, the pale cloth a stark contrast the night-darkened room.

Pale light bled into the room from the window behind him, staining the features of the place with a silvery glow.
It brushed her sleeping figure with its touch, turning her skin to smooth marble.

Her hair was as black as ink, spilled across the white pillow in liquid curls, dripping down her pale shoulders in a dark cascade.

He couldn't see her face, as it was turned away towards the all, shielding her features from him, her body softly curled in on itself as she slept.

Sighing, he leant his head back against the wall, closing his eyes, the sound of her soft, rhythmic breathing permeating his skull, a thousand thoughts racing behind his eyelids, screaming at him.

This had been such a bad decision. And yet, such a good one.

The sound of movement made him open his eyes, drawing him from his reverie.

She'd shifted in her sleep, stretching herself languidly over the mattress, curls tumbling like water over her shoulders as she turned and settled back into the bed.

A small sound left her lips, just a stumbled rush of air, as she settled her head down the into the soft pillow.

Silently, he wondered what she saw behind those closed eyes, at the world she built for herself in her mind every night.

He wondered what she thought about it all, everything that had happened, everything that had lead them to this point.

He wanted to know what was in her mind, what she thought about, what she dreamed about.

He wanted to know her.

A sharp movement from the bed snatched his attention.

Something had changed.

She lay rigid on the mattress, limbs splayed, every muscle suddenly tightened, tensed.
Her head suddenly whipped to the side, as if to avoid a blow, her fingers clawing into the bed covers, gripping at the fabric with iron hands, nails gouging cruelly into the bedding.

A pitiful whine escaped her gritted teeth, breath coming in harsh pants, sharp, twitching movements wracking her body.
She kicked out, displacing the covers from her in a tangle, hands going to her head as if to protect it from an unseen torrent of attack, existing only within the reality of her own mind.

Suddenly, he found he'd crossed the room, of no conscious decision of his own, and stood before her.
Her face was twisted up, eyes screwed closed, teeth bared.

Strangled breaths and whimpers broke through her lips, as she thrashed her head side to side, arms flailing over the surface of the mattress as if seeking purchase on the smooth surface.

Tentatively at first, he gently reached over and brushed his fingers over the soft skin of her cheek, rubbing his thumb in a soothing circle, and burying his fingers in her hair.

His touch seemed to register with her, as she stilled her thrashing, seeming to subconsciously lean into his hand.

A whimper escaped her throat, her arms half heartedly moving up the bed on last time before seeming to still.

"Shhh." He soothed, barely a whisper.
"You're alright. You're safe."

She sighed complacently, appearing innocently childlike in her sleep now that her former panic was fading from her like mist on a sunny morning.

He felt a soft touch below his wrist, and looking, saw that one of her hands was ever so gently brushing the tips of its fingers over his wrist bone, curious but not coherent enough to be serious about exploring.

Hesitantly, he withdrew his hand, her fingertips just skating over it as he pulled away.
Her limp fingers tangled with his, threading between them loosely.
He stroked his thumb mindlessly over her knuckles, tracing the shape of the bones beneath her soft skin.

Reluctantly, he released her hand, letting it fall back beside her onto the bedding.

She groaned in her sleep, her free hand raising up to rub sleepily at her face, clumsy and uncoordinated, eyes flickering in her sleep.

And then, her eyes flickered open.

He stepped back, retreating back into the shadows of the room, preparing to make a break for it, knowing it was too late, not really wanting to go...

She sat up, easing herself up on her arms, breathing hard, her chest rising and falling in sharp pants, as her sleep-glazed eyes flitting wildly around the room.

He realised that, whilst she was looking, she wasn't seeing. Her eyes were glassy and unfocused, were not  registering what she saw, her sleep drenched mind not having the cognition to do so.

Quickly, the power began to drain from her, and she toppled backwards onto her pillow, eyes sliding closed, breath hissing from her slightly parted lips as she sank back into slumber.

Probably very weird and way out of character, but ah well, it was necessary and I personally enjoyed writing it.
Anyway, feedback?