Lion Parmi Les Hommes

VII

"Nous vivons dans nos récits de nous-mêmes"

-Gregory Maguire, Lion Parmi Les Hommes

Perception is nothing but the stories we tell ourselves about the world as we have interpreted it to be. (Y/N) wasn't sure anymore if what she had told herself held any sort of truth at all. The ground was closer than it seemed, and it hurt less than it should have, the gasps of the audience were louder than she thought they should have been for she felt nothing at all as her ankle collapsed under her upon landing. When she looked down it was crooked, off-center, and (Y/N) did feel some sense of anxiety at that, distracted from her musings when another dancer came to help her off to the side of the stage. There she sat on the ground, cold fingers grasping her foot which still didn't hurt but was quite certainly broken or at the very least badly sprained, and she meandered in her thoughts until they were shaken back into reality by the hurried arrival of Marth, who had shoved her way past security. The taller woman crouched in front of her, and though she had no medical license or qualifications whatsoever, gently slid her fingers under her girlfriend's heel, peering closely at the crookedness of the appendage though there was none of the bruising or swelling that should have been present. Nonetheless, she snapped at the small crowd of stage technicians that had gathered to rubber-neck at the fragile dancer, ordering that at least one of them had the good sense to phone an ambulance. That was all of the attention she gave them, because then deep, brown eyes were trained only on (Y/N) and Marthe raised her unoccupied hand, resting it along her girl's jaw, thumb stroking the highest part of her cheek. (Y/N) seemed far too unbothered, in Marth's opinion, the shorter girl's eyes flitted around the room, concerned with what seemed to be anything besides her injury and all but ignoring her girlfriend's repeated attempts to get her attention. Marth dropped her hand from (Y/N)'s cheek after a few more minutes, instead using it to shake her shoulder, "Hey, you!", and that was enough to shock (Y/N) into turning her gaze to Marth's furrowed brow and concerned gaze, "I've been talking to you, you know? The ambulance will be here soon".

(Y/N) gave a half-hearted smile, "Sorry, I was somewhere else, I suppose".

Marth shook her head at that, turning her gaze to the ground as she mumbled almost too quietly to be heard, "You always are, my dear, you always are". Before (Y/N) had the time to respond, the paramedics were there to whisk her away, and Marth was left to trail behind disappearing once again into her own thoughts.

The sun was just beginning to peek her head above the horizon by the time they finally got back home, (Y/N) now sporting a heavy, and quite frankly ugly, brace on her badly sprained ankle and Marth sporting equally heavy bags under winter oak eyes. She unlocked the door with frozen fingers, holding it open so that (Y/N) could hobble in on her crutches and then letting it close behind her. (Y/N) made it to the stairs and turned around when she didn't hear footsteps behind her, raising a questioning eyebrow at Marth, "Are you coming up?"

The taller woman shook her head slightly, lips quirking into a tired smile and she came over and pressed a lazy kiss to (Y/N)'s forehead, "Probably not, shop opens in a couple of hours so there's not much use. You should definitely get some rest though, love".

(Y/N) didn't argue with that, grabbing Marth's fingers in her own and squeezing lightly and then she was letting go and slowly making her way up the creaking, wooden stairs. Marth watched her go, though when she caught sight of (Y/N)'s reflection in the hall mirror she startled away. Once again, she explained herself away as tired, rubbing her eyes and turning back to the books that needed to be reshelved or packed away. As she stacked away the books she found herself drifting into her own thoughts and the strangeness of the world lately. It was often that she felt she was going insane, she couldn't be sure what was real and what was not, and what she had made up in order to form the perfect reality for herself and for (Y/N). She had tried to be an impenetrable barrier to the world, keeping out anything that could hurt her or her (Y/N). Perhaps in doing so she had only hidden the inevitable truths from herself. She was interrupted in her musings by the sound of the telephone ringing and she answered cautiously, "Hello?"

Upstairs, (Y/N) found herself unable to fall asleep. She should have been tired but more and more as of recently she had found herself sleepless. Sometimes just laying in bed next to Marth so that the other woman would think she was slumbering peacefully when in fact she was drifting off into waking nightmares that felt more like skewed memories. Less and less she slept, and more and more she dreamed.

(filler, sorry)