Come, Said My Soul - FFF - Part 7 of "The Spot" - universe
You don't need to read the previous chapters, but if you want - they are here:
Pt 1: http://scotianova.livejournal.com/48749.html
Pt.2: http://scotianova.livejournal.com/49863.html
Pt 3: http://scotianova.livejournal.com/50504.html
Pt: 4: http://scotianova.livejournal.com/50783.html
Pt 5: http://scotianova.livejournal.com/51052.html
Pt 6: http://scotianova.livejournal.com/51238.html
Come, said my soul
You turn back to take one last look at Reid who heads to his office.
You’ve formed that habit lately, always turning and taking him in - all of him, his stride, the way he holds his head, the way he turns it to the right or left, nods almost imperceptively to nurses or colleagues - even after all those years he’s still not Bob's charming copy, but you can tell his staff respects him and the ones he’s allowed to get a bit closer and come to know him, like him.
With that one last glance at Reid, imprinted on your mind and heart you get better through your days.
The both of you are good again. You’ve talked a lot and worked it out.
You have worked Brian Bering out of your systems.
But it has been weeks that you finally realized, actually realized how close you’ve come to fall off the cliff. Losing Reid would have been exactly that: losing your grip, losing the ground you walk on, the air you need to breathe. Losing Reid would have meant to lose yourself.
You try to shrug off that uncomfortable feeling that always creeps up your chest when you have to say goodbye to him even if only for a few hours. What is wrong with you? You have to get rid of that fear of losing him. Reid has fought his hurt and insecurity and tries to do everything so that you can go back to normal.
It’s then when a knowing smile lightens up your weird mood.
In bed you aren’t back to normal - fortunately:
You make love every night the way lovers do that have just fallen in love. And by reclaiming each and every inch of each other you’re reclaiming your former life, bit by bit, kiss by kiss, touch by touch.
Tonight you’ve planned to cook dinner, give Reid a splendid massage and afterwards you are planning to make him yours over and over again.
“Are you still scared?” You ask him while snuggling up to him. Lying in bed, naked, entwined, closer than close - it’s easier to talk then.
“Sure…I was scared from the very moment I laid eyes on you.”
“No please, I am serious.”
“Me too - do you remember the day you ran away from me - after Bob’s ultimatum. It was then that I realized that it wasn’t just about falling in love, having sex, or something like that.
There was something tugging at me, something I didn’t even believe in….”
“Love?”
“No…it was the feeling that something undefined, un-placeable, mystic, and mysterious was calling me, pushing me towards you…I know it sounds strange…but it was just always there when I met you, talked to you, were in the same room with you. Against my better judgment, I couldn’t keep myself away from you. And it’s till there - and when I thought I’d lose you, I…I…it was just un-thinkable.
I know it’s a cliché - but I don’t know how to survive without you, Luke.”
And then you hold him again, close, so close, closer than close and whisper to him.
You don’t even know from where those verses come into your mind but they leave your lips almost instinctively.
How can I keep my soul in me, so that
it doesn't touch your soul? How can I raise
it high enough, past you, to other things?
I would like to shelter it, among remote
lost objects, in some dark and silent place
that doesn't resonate when your depths resound.
Yet everything that touches us, me and you,
takes us together like a violin's bow,
which draws one voice out of two separate strings.
…
(Rilke, Love Song)
You feel him shift, turn his head until his lips touch your ear, you almost expect him to make a mocking comment to diffuse your melancholy.
But he just kisses your earlobe - gently, so gently, gentler than gently.
“Marry me, Luke”.
Pt 1: http://scotianova.livejournal.com/48749.html
Pt.2: http://scotianova.livejournal.com/49863.html
Pt 3: http://scotianova.livejournal.com/50504.html
Pt: 4: http://scotianova.livejournal.com/50783.html
Pt 5: http://scotianova.livejournal.com/51052.html
Pt 6: http://scotianova.livejournal.com/51238.html
Come, said my soul
You turn back to take one last look at Reid who heads to his office.
You’ve formed that habit lately, always turning and taking him in - all of him, his stride, the way he holds his head, the way he turns it to the right or left, nods almost imperceptively to nurses or colleagues - even after all those years he’s still not Bob's charming copy, but you can tell his staff respects him and the ones he’s allowed to get a bit closer and come to know him, like him.
With that one last glance at Reid, imprinted on your mind and heart you get better through your days.
The both of you are good again. You’ve talked a lot and worked it out.
You have worked Brian Bering out of your systems.
But it has been weeks that you finally realized, actually realized how close you’ve come to fall off the cliff. Losing Reid would have been exactly that: losing your grip, losing the ground you walk on, the air you need to breathe. Losing Reid would have meant to lose yourself.
You try to shrug off that uncomfortable feeling that always creeps up your chest when you have to say goodbye to him even if only for a few hours. What is wrong with you? You have to get rid of that fear of losing him. Reid has fought his hurt and insecurity and tries to do everything so that you can go back to normal.
It’s then when a knowing smile lightens up your weird mood.
In bed you aren’t back to normal - fortunately:
You make love every night the way lovers do that have just fallen in love. And by reclaiming each and every inch of each other you’re reclaiming your former life, bit by bit, kiss by kiss, touch by touch.
Tonight you’ve planned to cook dinner, give Reid a splendid massage and afterwards you are planning to make him yours over and over again.
“Are you still scared?” You ask him while snuggling up to him. Lying in bed, naked, entwined, closer than close - it’s easier to talk then.
“Sure…I was scared from the very moment I laid eyes on you.”
“No please, I am serious.”
“Me too - do you remember the day you ran away from me - after Bob’s ultimatum. It was then that I realized that it wasn’t just about falling in love, having sex, or something like that.
There was something tugging at me, something I didn’t even believe in….”
“Love?”
“No…it was the feeling that something undefined, un-placeable, mystic, and mysterious was calling me, pushing me towards you…I know it sounds strange…but it was just always there when I met you, talked to you, were in the same room with you. Against my better judgment, I couldn’t keep myself away from you. And it’s till there - and when I thought I’d lose you, I…I…it was just un-thinkable.
I know it’s a cliché - but I don’t know how to survive without you, Luke.”
And then you hold him again, close, so close, closer than close and whisper to him.
You don’t even know from where those verses come into your mind but they leave your lips almost instinctively.
How can I keep my soul in me, so that
it doesn't touch your soul? How can I raise
it high enough, past you, to other things?
I would like to shelter it, among remote
lost objects, in some dark and silent place
that doesn't resonate when your depths resound.
Yet everything that touches us, me and you,
takes us together like a violin's bow,
which draws one voice out of two separate strings.
…
(Rilke, Love Song)
You feel him shift, turn his head until his lips touch your ear, you almost expect him to make a mocking comment to diffuse your melancholy.
But he just kisses your earlobe - gently, so gently, gentler than gently.
“Marry me, Luke”.