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She strokes my cheek and kisses my temple, repeatedly threading her fingers through my hair as her humming weaves through the air like the gentle threads of a knitted blanket.
I need her. I need her more than I need air.
It’s unclear how long we stay like that, crumpled on the floor. The grieving soul in me is eternally grateful for the opportunity to pour out all of my pain in the safe comfort of Alena’s arms.
It’s long overdue.
Eventually, the tears dry up, but the pain lingers heavily, like a weight crushing my chest with each breath. Pulling away from Alena simply isn’t an option, so instead I gather her up in my arms and pull myself to my feet.
“Kristof.” Her voice is soft, but hearing her speak is painful, like I don’t deserve it.
Maybe I should be ashamed of letting her see this, of not being strong enough to hold it together, but if anyone had to see me like this, I’m glad it’s her.
I carry her to the bed, and we tumble down together, unwilling to allow even an inch of space between us.
“It’s okay,” she murmurs, the words vibrating around her chest rather than reaching my ears.
I press my face into her neck, swallowing down the cotton in my throat. Crying is unfamiliar. I can’t recall the last time I did it, so the stinging sensation around my eyes and the thickness in my throat are strange.
“I can’t lose you too,” I whisper, and my voice drags over the cobbles of my throat. “It’ll kill me. I know it will. I can’t… I can’t.”
“I’m right here.” Alena cuddles me close, exhaustion clear in her words, and the same tiredness weighs down my own limbs. An exhaustion born from pain. “I’m so sorry I thought that… that I accused you of…”
“I know.” She doesn’t need to say it. I already know.
My hands seek out her warmth underneath her T-shirt. I have no desire for anything other than feeling the warm closeness of her skin, and she accepts quickly. Clothing is messily removed, and the few seconds when we’re apart sends my heart skyrocketing.
I need her. Oh, God, I need her.
As soon as she’s naked, she’s back in my arms, and I pull her close against my chest. Cuddling her as tightly as I dare, she returns the force in kind by tangling our legs together and winding her arms tightly around my shoulders. There’s no space between us, and I bury my face in her neck while she pets my hair.
“I’m scared.” A whispered confession behind the curtain of her hair.
“Me too,” Alena whispers.
“I’m scared I’ll fail. That I won’t be able to save you from your father like I… like I couldn’t save my brother or my sister. I’m scared I’ll get more good people killed.”
“You won’t.” She whispers it like a prayer, her words strong even as her tone is light. “You aren’t going to lose anymore.”
“I’m scared I will be a terrible father. Everything I knew, everything I thought I knew, is just… how can I be a parent when the one person I thought loved me ended up being nothing—” My chest hitches with a shudder and cuts off my words.
I can’t speak. Fighting the urge to cry again, I tighten my grip further on Alena until I can feel her heart thumping against my own chest.
“You won’t lose me,” she whispers. “I’m right here. Remember what I said all the way back in the beginning? I choose to be here. I’ve always wanted to be here. And if you are even half as kind with our baby as you are with me, you are going to be a phenomenal father.”
She means well, I know she does, but her words slide through the cracks in my soul. Words only mean as well as actions, and so far, my actions have lost me all whom I hold dear.
“I’m scared too, y’know.” Alena’s lips linger against my temple. “I’m scared you’ll walk out that door and never come back. I’m scared I’ll lose you because I cannot even fathom life without you now. I’m scared I’ll lose the baby or that I’ll be a terrible mother. Look at my role model. I don’t want to be like Mara, but what if I just keep repeating all of her mistakes and our child ends up hating me?” A soft, dry laugh escapes her lips. “I think it’s okay for us to be scared together.”
Scared together.
Is that the mark of a true couple? Being scared and facing it anyway? Is it selfish of me to cling to a notion of revenge when running away could give me the future I crave with Alena?
A future where it’s just her.
She’d never let me abandon August. I don’t think I could either, but entertaining the thought of running away is nice.
Then I remember.
