Alive

The Risk Of Falling

His bare skin pressed against yours was unlike anything you had ever felt before. The warmth of him seeped into you, grounding you and overwhelming you at the same time.

"It did," you whispered, your voice trembling as you admitted it. You didn't even know why you had said it out loud—it slipped out, raw and vulnerable. His lips brushed the back of your neck, feather-light kisses that made your pulse quicken.

"You tired?" His voice was softer now, stripped of its cold, practiced edge. The more time you spent with him, the more you realized how much of his emotion was hidden beneath carefully built walls.

"A bit," you murmured, too afraid that if you said more, your voice would betray the storm inside of you.

"I'll show you to your room."

He pulled away and reached for his pants, sliding them on with practiced movements. The loss of his body against yours left you shivering. He grabbed his shirt and tossed it toward you without looking back.

"Put that on."

The fabric smelled faintly of him—spice, clean linen, something that was just him. It swallowed you whole, hanging loose on your frame, but covered you more completely than your own clothes ever could. You gathered the rest of your things in your arms, wincing a little at the soreness in your body. It hurt to walk, but deep down you admitted to yourself—it had been worth it.

He didn't comment as he led you down the hallway. His stride was purposeful, but not hurried, and you followed closely, your bare feet nearly silent against the polished floor. He stopped in front of a door and opened it without ceremony.

The light pink walls greeted you first, warm and delicate compared to the dark hallway. A queen-sized bed sat neatly in the center, dressed with crisp white sheets and a soft comforter that looked impossibly inviting. A dresser matched the bed's simplicity, its surface bare except for a single vase with pale flowers. A closet stood slightly ajar, and an attached bathroom gleamed faintly under soft lighting.

You stepped inside slowly, your eyes darting around the room as if it might disappear if you blinked. He leaned against the doorframe, watching you silently. For the briefest moment, when you glanced back, you caught the flicker of a smile tugging at his lips.

"This is where you'll sleep," he said finally. Then, after a pause, his throat clearing as if he hadn't meant to speak the next part: "I'll check on you every now and then."

"Sleep well," he added, voice rougher this time, before closing the door behind him.

"You too," you whispered into the empty room, though you knew he was already gone.

You dropped your clothes onto the floor and sat gingerly on the edge of the bed. There was a single window, the curtains pulled back to reveal the night sky. Stars stretched endlessly across the velvet darkness, their light spilling into the room. The moonlight streamed across the wooden floor, making it glisten like water.

You slipped beneath the covers. The sheets smelled faintly of lavender and felt cool against your skin, but warmth quickly wrapped around you. The weight of the day, of everything that had happened, pressed down until finally, sleep pulled you under.

The first thing you noticed was the light.

Sunlight seeped into the room, painting the walls a softer shade of pink, brightening the sheets around you. The second was the sound—the honk of distant car horns mingling with the delicate song of birds outside your window.

The third was the creak of your door opening.

Your head turned toward it instantly, eyes still heavy with sleep.