Thank You

Sleepwalking

I don't usually sleep at night. Actually, nighttime is the only moment of the day when I can feel the tiniest bit of life inside me. The silenced world, just the soft noises of the wind blowing, a few leaves flying over my head, the footstep of a lost boy on the run. And am I not one ?

I walk slowly, as always. Staring at my feet, not paying much attention to anything going on around me, I just try to feel my heart beating in my chest. This is all I need. A heart. Or what's left of it. What if it had never been broken before ? Would've I ended up here, walking down a filthy street in the darkest hours of the night, looking for something to feel ? Would've I been looking for the slightest bit of feeling if I still had the ability of keeping them in ? I wish I could know.

A couple passes by. I can hear them chattering from the distance but I am not interested in what they're saying to each other. More in the fact they are saying it. They look lovely with their puffed jacket and scarves, making them look like big puffy care bears, and who are they kidding ? That is exactly what they are. Numbing the bad to only let the good parts in, seeing everything in a much softer, prettier way, caring for one another more than for themselves. Ready to die for one another. That is the world they live in until one thing goes out wrong and everything falls on the ground, or from the ground, only leaving a broken heart as a souvenir. Strangely sad circle of life. But at least they're happy. I wish I could be a puffy care bear.

I watch them as they cross the road, holding tight onto each other as if they were scared of losing each other to the whistling wind or the darkness of the night. Do they only know love is stronger than nature ? Anybody might say the opposite and I've come to the conclusion that it wasn't right for a while. Maybe I still believe nature is stronger than love actually. I only wish I thought otherwise.

I stopped walking as I stared at them, one foot ahead from the other, still on a walking move. And quite honestly I hadn't even noticed it until my phone rang in my pocket, sadly bringing me back to reality. I don't care to check on it. Most nights I would just leave it on silent before I left the house to make sure I wouldn't be bothered by any shallow thing that could trouble my few hours of peace, or whatever it could be called if not exactly peace. I don't know why I didn't feel like it tonight. I just didn't.

I step outside the path, leaning on a malfunctioning street lamp. The cold pole shakes as my back hits it softly. I get an already rolled up joint out of my pocket, pressing it between my fingers as a habit and put it between lips. My phone rings again. And again. I still don't know why I didn't silence it earlier, and why I still haven't after it rang too many times already. I light the small joint and let the small flame of the match burn the tips of my fingers, licking them. I need it. That is why I prefer matches to lighters ; the pinch of the burn makes me feel awake. I let the smoke invade my lungs. Heaven. But too soon there's nothing but air between my fingers. Why is that ? I turn around.

Lost in my own pretty world, I didn't notice her shadow hiding behind me. I didn't notice her watching me as I watched that other couple. I'm used to being alone at night. No one usually acts the same as me. But there she is, in the semi-darkness, coated by the moonless night. She's not a girl, she's a woman, ageless. She puts the joint between her lips and blows the smoke towards me before letting it fall on the ground and stepping on it. I just watch, not even wanting to say a word.

In the blinking lights of the street poles, I see her face intermittently. Some high and defined cheekbones. Silky blonde hair. Clear diaphanous skin sprinkled with the lightest freckles. Penetrating blue eyes. She's tall and even though her shape is blurred by the clothes she's wearing, I know she's got a slender figure. Her coat is only buttoned up halfway in a way that lets me see the thin shirt she's wearing underneath, and one of the buttons is off. Her shoe laces are messily tied. I can still discern some traces of running mascara under her eyes, however her face shows no grief or despair. If her outer appearance shows a trouble in her mind, her expressions don't reveal any.

She's staring at me, her piercing eyes digging into my soul. No words come out of her mouth or mine. She blinks twice quickly and starts walking towards me. As she passes me she points in the direction of my pocket, and looks at me one last time over her shoulder before stepping away, leaving me with the fainting noise of her footsteps on the asphalt in the dying lights of the street.

She didn't need to say a word as her eyes spoke for her. Her indecipherable eyes but yet somehow so clear as an order. I get my phone out of that pocket she  pointed at and turn it on. My mom tried to call me too many times and my screen is invaded by countless messages. Normally I would just turn the thing off and keep on feeding myself off the fulfilling darkness of the night, sleeping at dawn during the last seconds of peace I can get. But somehow this woman, her blue gaze, her unreadable expression, they keep me away from these old habits I have. I quickly type a short answer : 'I'll be home soon.' And I am. In a matter of minutes I am back in my yard, walking through the front door under the avalanche of questions from my mother.

I close my bedroom door and throw myself on the bed, still dressed, my shoes on, staring at the ceiling as if it wasn't there, and all I could see was the starry night. But that is not what I see. If any other night it would've been the image that played in my head, the most beautiful painting to my eyes, it is not anymore. I feel as if a heavy smoke fell right on top of me, spreading its mist in my mind, and I feel myself falling. But before I close my own eyes, hers are what I see.

She's staring. At me.

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there we go guys, it was only a matter of time before i wrote a cate blanchett fic. this one is entirely fictional, meaning cate isn't the famous actress we all know, and i am not gonna try to make it fit into reality as i've been trying to do with angel and take flight. by all means, i am sure cate and andrew are doing perfectly fine, i just need them to be in a different situation for the sake of this story. but well. you'll see :)
hope you'll enjoy this one and if you don't, well my bad i'm just not good at writing then :')
-lou~