What's Said in Silence

Vessel-XXXXXXXI

I awoke to Sera stirring beneath my arm. I waited, hoping upon hope that she had just simply readjusted in her sleep, rather than what we had dealt with nearly every night since returning home. She settled into the pillow and I let out a sigh of relief. 

We'd finished the U.S tour just a week ago. Sera still hadn't spoken about the encounter with her father and I hadn't dared to ask. What she had done had been insane- necessary for her- but inane nonetheless. Part of me believes that encounter had dredged up more nightmares, if that were the case then all we could do for them was wait it out. 

She writhed again, her skin slicking with sweat. I shook her shoulder and called her name, hoping to pull her out of it before it grew worse. Here lately, that alone has been difficult. It was like her nightmares had a tight latch on her subconscious that wouldn't allow her to wake up. I called her name again, and only received whimpers in response. 

I cursed under my breath before sitting up fully. The moon had hidden behind the clouds tonight, leaving the room in a much deeper darkness than usual which make it hard to make out her outline. Her tossing body told me where to go and I did the only thing that came to mind. I straddled her hips and snaked my arm behind her neck, lifting her off the mattress, hoping the change in position would be enough to wake her. 

It did. Her whimpers stopped and were replaced with heavy gasps and swallows. I felt her tense beneath me so I slid my legs down and laid beside her, my chest pressing into hers and our legs intertwining. I reached up and stroked my knuckles against her cheek, brushing away the hair that stuck to her face. 

I slide out of the bed and open the window. The night air was frigid and unforgiving to those who dared step out into it, but it was what she needed and she didn't need to ask. 

I slipped back into bed with her, resuming my former position. Her breathing had returned to relatively normal, but her heart still thundered against her chest. I knew better than to ask. Each time before she had simply shaken her head. So I held her, hoping against hope that I could keep her from falling apart, that my arms had the strength to hold her together. Perhaps it was egotistical to think that way, but I had no other options. Not until she presented them. 

"I think- I," Her chest heaved as she struggled to find the words she was looking for. My hand found hers and I gently grasped it, rubbing my thumb in soothing circles. "I can't do this on my own." I squeezed her hand, as my way of telling her she wasn't alone, but I felt like that wasn't all she wanted to say so I stayed quiet and waited. "It's time I went to therapy." 

The admission rattled my core but also relieved me at the same time. I knew this meant that she had exhausted all options within herself, had reached a resolve that her own iron will wouldn't be enough to heal her. On the same side of that coin, neither could mine. Though, admitting that she needed help- professional or otherwise- showed more strength than she realized. 

I pulled her closer to me, placing a kiss against her cooling temple, "We'll look into it first thing in the morning." I still had the list of therapists that Jessie had recommended, as well as a list of my own after doing some much needed research. I'd done a credentials check on every one of them and had ranked them by which ones I thought were the best, but the choice would be hers entirely. 

We were silent for a while, though I knew she hadn't fallen back asleep, her body was still too tense. A harsh breeze washed over us and I pulled the blanket up a little higher. I wouldn't close the window until she asked. Somehow I understood that it was so she didn't feel trapped, suffocated. After being stuck in a basement for over a week, I couldn't blame her. If she wanted every damn window in the house open, regardless of the weather, I'd nail them open so she never felt that way with me. 

She shifted, her nose brushing against my own in the process. The soft puffs of air against my upper lip amplifying just how close we were. As much as I wanted to kiss her, to have her entirely, I wasn't sure if it was the right time, given the panic she was just in moments before. I  craved every piece of her and her skin was sinfully soft against my own. But I will wait. I have to wait.

"Vessel?" Her soft whisper broke me from my impending perverse daydream. 

"Yes, my love?" I asked, tightening my arm around her waist.

"Can I- can I touch you?" The question was tentative, laced with nervousness. I let out a chuckle at the mischief rising in my mind. 

"You can always touch me, love." She swatted my arm and I couldn't stop myself from laughing at the double meaning. Neither could she, though she did try to stifle it. It seemed to ease some of the worry in her as she relaxed in my hold. 

"I mean," She continued, the shake of laughter in her voice giving way to something more serious, "Can I feel you, your face?" I stilled entirely. She'd never asked to see it, something I had been more than appreciative of. Right now, even though we faced one another, the darkness of the room kept me concealed. She wasn't asking to see, though. Just feel. 

I found her hand in the darkness and pulled it up between us. I held it there for a moment, one that felt like an eternity as I steadied my breaths. She had been through so much, had fought so much. She had given me her voice, had sang out her cry, her plea for me to find her. I could give her this much. Before I allowed myself to back out of it, I placed her hand on my cheek. The first person to touch my face in a very long time. I let go of her hand, giving her free reign to explore as she wished. 

And she did, slowly. Her thumb stroked against my cheek for a moment before she lifted her hand to graze her fingers up to my forehead, tracing the line of my hair before sinking down over my nose. Her movements were slow, deliberate. She was committing every feature to memory, and I allowed it. 

"Why do you wear the mask?" She asked. There was no trace of conviction in her voice, only pure curiosity.

The mask had been a command of the deity, had been designed based on the images she had projected. As the band grew in popularity, it became apparent that I would wear this mask for longer than I'd thought. I'd grown comfortable with it, in fact I preferred it to my own reflection these days. 

"Unbecoming things must remain concealed." It was the most simple answer, though it carried the most weight. 

"I don't believe that," She deadpanned. "I've seen ugly- true ugly- and it was never concealed." The air thickened as distasteful memories filled the room and I recognized her words as nothing other than pure truth. Her hand cupped my cheek gently, "Treasure is always hidden." She placed a gentle kiss on my nose.