Muse [18+] • REVISING

28 | Blue

V E R A

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Final lectures before midterms, never-ending nights at the museum, and the occasional 2 am rendezvous with Damien. It's been yet another week of a mundane routine. The two of us have fallen into a groove of normalcy, me finding comfort in my alone time as I've gotten used to him being locked away in his study on some nights or secluded in his studio on others. I mostly kept my distance after midnight, for he deserved space from the clutter in his mind that he refused to talk about.

The rain shifts into a drizzle as the sun begins to set. It's one of the first times we've both gotten the chance to leave work before dark and I'm appreciative of the extra leisure time we get together before he spends yet another night overworking himself. I've gotten used to his side of the bed remaining empty. He makes his abandonment up in other ways.

Making my way onto his lap, resting both of my legs on either side of his, I wrapped my arms around his neck and lazily leaned into the nook of his shoulder. His arms made their way around my body, encasing me whilst pulling me closer. Although we relaxed into a comfortable embrace, his racing chest against mine spoke the exact opposite of tranquility.

"What's on your mind?" I ask, face still buried.

He barely responds aside from a few muffled noises.

Lifting my head, I moved my hands over to his chest and bit the inside flesh of my cheek. There'd be moments when he was attentive, enthralled in conversations and the things you'd have to say. We'd spend our mornings laughing over his love for black coffee, making jokes that his brew was as bitter as him. Getting dressed for work was always a hassle as we'd always get caught up in the shower, getting soap in each other's eyes, and splashing water around. There was so much joy in the little things.

I brought one of my hands up to the side of his face and frowned. As it nagged 7 pm, there was no morning coffee, no late-for-work showers, no profound conversations. At the end of the day, Damien sat, dejected and out of place. It was something about the early stages of twilight that took him away from me.

"Can you answer me?" I softly questioned, rubbing circles on his stubbly cheek.

Leaning into my hand, he wrapped his own around my wrist as a physical request for me to keep holding him. We sat both still and quiet before he redirected his eyes toward mine. And all of the oxygen in the room came back at once.

"Let's go out," he finally responded.

"Where do you want to go?" I curiously asked, raking my hand through his curls.

"Spontaneity has no itinerary," he shortly smiled. "Aren't you one for doing things on a whim?"

As much as I loved going through life based on whimsical, oftentimes dicey, inclinations, such a request coming from Damien was a bit concerning. Someone measured and calculated does not base his life on impulse. Either this man was going through a premature midlife crisis or received news that he had a couple of months left to live. This is simply what separates the two of us. Damien Dupont does not act on passing thoughts.

"Believe me, I would drop everything right now and visit every country with you if you asked," I returned the smile. "I just think it's odd you'd want to go out on a work night, or even go out at all."

"I'd be lying if I wasn't surprised at my request," he laughed, bringing his hands to either side of my hips. "I'm only asking because I feel we've done enough these past few weeks, so much work and hardly any time for play, and you also deserve a break before midterms flood you next week."