oh, anna [-hs]

lights up

20.

When I wake up, his spot is warm, but he's gone.

I slowly blink and glance around the room. The sun is barely peeking through the window, shining with morning intensity on the foot of the bed. I hear water running from the bathroom, and sit up. After a minute, it stops, and he comes out of the bathroom with a toothbrush hanging from his mouth.

He grins when he sees me awake, and then his eyes widen in realization. "Are you okay?" He mumbles through the mouthful of toothpaste. I bite my lip.

"Yeah, I think I am," I smile, and I'm not lying. Weirdly, I feel okay? I don't understand it, but it's not that upsetting. The thought excites me a little, the absence of a pit of fear in my chest is freeing. Confusing, but freeing. I toss the blanket off of me, and stand up, stretching my hands up to the ceiling.

His eyes travel down my thigh again. He can't help it. He's only ever seen them once, and only for a second before I ran for cover. I sit back down on the bed and hold my leg out.

"Do you want to see them?"

His eyes widen. "Are you sure?"

I nod. "Yeah, I feel really good right now. This is the time to check them out if you're curious."

He watches me carefully, and then runs back to the bathroom to put his toothbrush away. He comes back out and lays on his stomach on the bed, propping his face up with his elbow. Occasionally he looks back up at me to gauge my facial expressions. He's tentative, scared of the vulnerability I'm displaying right now. But what I told him is the truth. I don't feel sick right now. I feel okay.

Maybe it's because of last night, the way he opened up and then pushed me away. It showed me he was willing to tell me things, but wasn't dependent on me to make him happy. It was comforting. I smile a little as I watch his eyes excitedly absorb the tattoos.

"Will you tell me what some of them mean?" He mumbles. This is where I should really start freaking out. It's one thing to let someone see them, an entirely different thing to tell them what they mean. But I don't retreat, I don't choke, I laugh. Why do I laugh?

"Only if you tell me what some of yours mean." I challenge. What is happening right now? Why do I feel so open? The only panic in my chest right now is one that I'm manufacturing because it's what I'm used to. I suppose even I surprise myself sometimes.

The sun is brighter in from the window now, leaving a warm hazy light around the room. The bed covers are fluffy and white, nestling each of us in their warmth. This place in this moment feels safe. He pulls his shirt up off over his head, revealing the different pieces covering his torso. "How about, this one," I point to the two hands shaking on the back of his bicep. It's one of the ones I was staring at all night.

"It's a symbol of equality." He keeps it short and sweet. Then he points to the big, full moon on my leg. "That one."

"It represents femininity and friendship," I explain. He tilts his head, his eyes asking for a deeper explanation. My mouth twitches back and forth, and then I sigh. "Sometimes when Emma or I can't sleep, we go out on the fire escape and stare at the moon, because it's the only bright thing in the sky in New York, and we share secrets and talk until we feel okay."

He softly nods, a smile in his eyes. "That sounds nice."

"Yeah, so I got the tattoo to remind myself of that feeling, of her and the feeling of home." He seems to think this is cute. "That one." I point to the anchor resting on his wrist. He presses his lips together.

"Well," he begins. "I had to cover up a different tattoo, so the bottom part was to cover that up."

"What did it cover up?" I tilt my head.