Lies and Other Necessities

•Dreams...

His, are the same arms that grip me in place when I wake up kicking and screaming. Why I'm screaming, I don't know. What I'm screaming, I can't tell. But I'm just screaming, and screaming, and screaming, till my throat clogs up when I choke on my own spit. I bawl over as I fall into a coughing fit, my chest squeezing with each compression that comes with the action. My eyes begin to water as I hold onto the edge of the couch, gasping for air.

Logan immediately holds me in place and then stands, pulling me up with him. I feel the rough pads of his arms go around me as he lets me rest my head against his bare chest. "Evie, you're okay, baby. Just breathe," he whispers, hands stroking my back.

I do as he says and air rushes into my lungs with a force that makes me shudder. The coughing subsides but my face is still pressed flat against him. Drool clings to the few sparse hairs on his chest and I cling onto him in the same way. It's almost as if he's my lifeline. He is my lifeline.

I don't know how long we stay like that; mashed together in silence, almost as if we are one. Maybe it's only a few seconds? Minutes? Millennia? Eternity?

Logan's voice breaks the silence that settles and I feel the vibrations that rumble from within him. It's a melody that sings to my aching soul.

"I'm taking you to the balcony. Would you like that?"

I can only nod, scared that uttering a sound might trigger another episode of coughing with how invisible bubbles stick to the back of my throat, pushing down all the things I have to say.

We move one step at a time and he still holds onto me protectively, only letting go once when he grabs the thick blanket he had covered me with, and a second time, when he slides the screen door open.

The loveseat swing sways with the movement of the cool breeze that blows. The night is beautiful yet the beauty is not without it's own horror. Nighttime is when the moon graces the earth with her splendour and the stars shine with promise. Nighttime is when darkness settles and nightmares reign. Never one without the other. Can't win for damn losing.

I let myself sink into the plush cushions, the wooden seat creaking its feeble protests under my weight. Logan doesn't sit right away, he moves to the balcony railing and watches me, eyebrows knit together in thought.

I look back at him, my stare daring him to speak out but the corner of his lips only turns up a smidgen as he brushes his fingers in his hair.

"Are you okay now?" he asks after a while.

Am I ever truly okay? I ask myself too, but out loud I say, "Yes, but I'd be better when you're next to me. Come sit." I pat a spot next to me on the loveseat and he occupies it a moment later.

My head fits in the crook of his neck and my eyes fall shut and even though I had been joking, I'm truly better.

°

I am awake. I know it because the thoughts have come rushing back, a mish-mash of so many words that they seem unintelligible.

My hand moves around in the bed I'm in, searching for that familiar warmth as if by instinct. I don't find it; him, and I sit up to better assess the situation.

There's no dip there like there normally is when Logan rouses before I do. His side of the bed-- which can hardly be considered his because of how much I eat into that half-- lacks warmth too, and I wonder if he slept here last night and when he had brought me here. However, I am assured that he did. The butter-yellow sheets still smell like him; the invigorating scent of honey body wash and also the him under that clean scent.