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060. Lonely
6:34 in the evening in Mariehamn and it's some-time-of-the-night in Mahon; Satu halfheartedly stops to walk on and jump off the rocks lining her aimless path, crosses her gooseflesh arms to keep warm. The breeze off the sea is light, kisses her coldpink cheeks; just as the sun above her shines a poor excuse for light, it's a poor excuse for his lips like air on her face, her neck, her shoulders. Even in the dead of winter when the sun barely shines, he brings it to her, in his grin, his big sweet heart that not even writers could capture perfectly. So long as the sun is weak above her she will want his light, want to sit on his soft sand beaches with the water like photoshopped tourism ads. Unreal; she is named fairytale but it's Enzo who lives one.
Six in the evening in Mariehamn and Satu wants the sand in her hair and sun on her shoulders, thinks of bright light and warm arms loose around her, sparks lighting behind her eyes. But breathing in that nostalgic cigarette smell, hearing bartering chatter that's like music to her red-tipped ears, the waves crashing against the shore, she smiles, because this home, and home is truly where her heart lies.
( 8I ;;; I honestly, could not think of anything good enough for this. apologies x 1000. )
11:06 in the morning in Mahon and it's definitely not the same time in Mariehamn; Enzo stares dejectedly out the window, pockmarked with warm summer rain. If she were there with him, they'd be out in the mud already, dancing around poles, no umbrellas, just the rain showering down like kisses from above. He tried to fill the gap, but all of his siblings don't like the rain, or were busier with more important or interesting things; he loves his siblings, yes, they're like nine mirror hearts against his own, but sometimes. Sometimes he just wants Satu there, discovering things with him, laughing, sharing his philosophy and countering with her own wisdom, the only one who really always gets what he's saying. Even in a family of twelve, Enzo is perfectly capable of feeling totally, temporarily, alone.
11:12 in the morning in Mahon and Enzo launches up, wanders into the kitchen to ask Moses to help him make something delicious, because he intends to ask to have Satu over; they can set the table for dinner and play with the cloth like a parachute, dig through the attic, the basement, the storage rooms and smell the clean cut of the wood, discover little flits of knowledge and inspiration that await their homes in those sweet curious hearts; but he inhales deeply and smells that sweet damp earth smell and smiles, because this is home, and home is truly where his heart lies.
-he leans in and scribbles so hard on the paper she almost thinks to ask him what he's doing, but she remembers that he is to be trusted with crayons, so she doesn't and continues working on her PlayDoh sculpture; a few minutes later and he slides it over to her, grinning that charming wink of a grin. An explosion of color and pure awesome awaits her, a card that obviously says a lot about the person who made it; warmth, the effort of love and passion pressed into those wax sticks, it will proudly hang right next to her Hooker Papa.
2:12 in the morning in Barcelona and it's God-knows-what-time in Fukuoka, Beppu; Nico thinks to go home but is too lazy to, doesn't want to be scolded for waking anybody and doesn't feel much like leaving these wild city streets. He wishes he had his guitar but the rhythm spilling out of a club's gaping inviting door will do just fine, take his mind off of her and set it on a simple path. He overthinks everything, that's the problem; alone with his natives in the pulse of the pit he moves, sly against the women but denying them what they ask so obviously, because all he can think of is her. These women are beautiful but so artificially, makeup and their smiles like American syrup, sweet, nothing but filler.
2:47 in the morning in Barcelona and Nico spills out onto the street, sweaty with his heart in his throat and arms empty, so he thinks of smooth warm skin and avoids the cavity she leaves when not at his side, but he smiles, because this is his home and home is truly where his heart lies.
-they trace the alleys like children with crayons, the night beating down on them like the flush of lights from the street; he wants her ever - closer but this is enough, stealing into the night with her, like pickpockets, illegal lovers. The rush of danger thrilling through his veins makes him feel alive, honestly makes him want to pin her then and there, but they are stepping in unison and her palm is pressed flat to his; this rush of love tells her he will never be alone, so long as always craves her like he does, always has his eyes on her and only her.
4:53 in the morning in Beppu and it's some other time out in Barcelona; Yasu leaps from rock to smooth shiny rock in the pale dawn light and feels more selfish than she ever has. She wants to, has always wanted to, be adored and loved unconditionally, be everything he sees and hears and wants and craves; she is, but alone in her dawn light, she can't remember the feeling of it, the memory like smoke from the cigarettes her father sometimes smokes. Beside her a hot spring she can't quite remember the name of steams quietly, dampens her face and her bare dancer feet, invites her in like an old friend might. She wants to obey, let the water melt away everything she knows she doesn't deserve, right from her mind, heal her from the inside out; she wants to forget, wipe this ugly side of herself completely clean.
3:05 in the morning in Beppu and Yasu gathers her yukata folds around her knees and jumps into the water, forgets all about herself and remembers his curls, his laugh, deft fingers over his guitar, catching notes out of the air like a magician, but standing in the familiar beautiful warmth of the spring she smiles, because this is home and home is truly where her heart lies.
-she is shaking and sweat - slick, traces out a generic heart over the throbbing dance pulse of his own; he's almost asleep anyway, won't tease her for it, so she presses a quick gentle kiss right over the softer-than-expected skin, pauses to listen to the maddening rhythm, all for her. Moments later she feels his arms wrap warm around her, smiles and nestles contentedly in, feeling absolutely everything but alone.
 men getting pregnant · Sat Jan 16, 2010 @ 09:07am · 0 Comments |
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