Poetry in Motion

10

There were very seldom times where Arthur found himself truly comfortable in sleep. Most times he ended up sleeping on the sofa, in his apartment. The pillow he'd rest his head on was thin, the blue case on it a bit faded, and if he needed a cover, he usually used the one he loaned to Imelda. However, this though, this was different. He found himself almost lost in the comforts of a bed. An actual bed. The soft stuffing shaping around him, and how he laid. The pillows here were many, not just the sad filled cushions underneath his bed pillow back home. No, these were properly stuffed with feathers or high-quality fibres. They too seemed to make himself sink into them.

Honestly, it felt like Arthur was floating. There wasn't no cover as such, not that Arthur minded. Imelda needed it more. He found himself getting more than enough warmth from being huddled up to the chestnut-haired woman. He was awake, and had been for a small while. He was content, lost in the feeling of sheer comfort. But it wasn't his mind awaking that actually caused him to wake. No, he got woken up by the feeling of someone brushing hair out of his face.

It was such a comforting feeling, gentle even as the hand didn't want to fully touch him. Not because of not wanting to touch him, but because they didn't want to wake him up. Arthur didn't mind, he wasn't even aware to his hair falling in his face, but then the dark curled hair sometimes had a mind of its own. It was somewhat considerate and a little random that Imelda would do such a thing as comb his hair out of his face, especially as he slept. That was closeness on a new level, intimate even, something Arthur both relished and was an utter stranger too.

He was even more of a stranger to the fact that it didn't just stop with his hair. He was finding it hard enough to contain growing giggling within him. There was no humour in this moment, it was just something he felt himself being...he wouldn't say uncomfortable, just it was unknown. And unknown things, especially when it came to social things, usually made Arthur's laughter appear, and pique.

Imelda's hand, or rather her fingers seemingly ghosted over his features. He was aware that his own hands were rough feeling, years and years of working had turned them like that. But Imelda's hands were soft feeling, gentle as a finger found its way trailing somewhat hesitantly across his jaw. The feeling did tickle a little, especially when her finger trailed down his neck. Arthur covered a laugh with a quiet grumble, he hoped it came off as a sleepy sounding one.

Her ministrations paused for a moment before he felt a finger skim over his lips. This he couldn't help, he twitched. The feeling was strange, and ticklish again. Yet it didn't stop her finger following the curve of his bottom lip before moving to the top, even ghosting over the slight scar which was there too.

He couldn't help it, a few more seconds passed and laughter came from him. He buried his face against the pillow, trying to drown the sounds out. It did little good, because he was still going for another minute or so. All the while Imelda remained silent, and it wasn't until Arthur managed to calm himself and peer out, did he realise she couldn't have gone anywhere, even if she wanted to.

Still cocooned up in the duvet, she had seemingly managed to wiggle an arm out. This was the one which had been gently caressing him, the other arm was seemingly still stuck. Her face peered out at him; she seemed rather awake. And thankfully to Arthur, looking better. Her pale skin wasn't quite as opaque as it was previously, her dark eyes didn't look hollow. Dark rings were no longer under her eyes and she didn't seem to sniffle as much as she breathed.

Now, as to how she couldn't move; Arthur's arm was wrapped tightly around her middle. He couldn't help it; he could feel himself blushing. He felt his cheeks grow hot as his eyes widened, yet it took his mind several more moments to register before moving his arm away. When he did, he expected Imelda to sit up and move away from him. No, she just stayed where she was peering up at him. It was silent until she hid in the cover and sneezed.