Power Outage ReWritten

Outage and Tension

"Here my daily torture begins"

he thought to himself. His evenings
were mostly busy working on Hazan's
pictures. Surfing through the hardcopies in a search to find the best shot of the day.. As if resisting her infectious smile during the day was not hard enough, he now had to select the best takes out of the many Hazans on shiny printing paper looking, smiling at him from his coffee table.

Who was he kidding, this was probably a gift. To be able to look at her without having to worry about other people who may see him staring - without breaking his brother's heart or feeling awkward or uncomfortable himself. He welcomed the thought. He drank the sight of her for the first time in a long time without the guilt.

Surely, every moment that he enjoyed
sharing with her was later poisoned with his guilt. Yet he enjoyed every moment he shared with her. But now he was alone in his apartment with her pictures and no witnesses. And this was the best he could hope for. So he relished in the safety of his apartment and just looked at her.

This was when the power outage
happened and the darkness swallowed his safe heaven like a bad omen. He was suddenly left in darkness. He laughed bitterly at the cruelty of the situation" so you want to turn this into a candle light date?" he joked. The joke was on him. Thou his coffee table was crowned with tealights he didn't bother light them. He took a generous sip from his coffee that he brewed shortly before the outage.

He heard the insistent rapping on the door followed by a voice yelling his name - her voice! Though he was not ready to give up the little freedom
he had, his feet reluctantly brought him towards her. He opened the door to Hazan who was already inside, complaining about the outage without a pause.

"That should be easy"

he thought confidently, afterall the
90-seconds time gap between the
outage and activation of the generator
was almost up. She would be gone
within minutes, leaving him to his well grounded safety. So he told her to count to 10 and voila! The lights were on again.

His victory was short lived when Hazan saw her pictures and made herself comfortable on his couch. As he understood that she wasn't leaving any sooner, he took his place in front of the coffee machine- using this time to recompose his restraints in front
of her. He answered to her ramblings in autopilot while reminding himself of all the good reasons he cannot fall in  love with her. He tapped into his guilt that he burried minutes before she showed up at his doorstep.

When he was confident that he had his guard up, he brought her the fresh coffee and took his place on the couch. She was giddily looking from one picture to another; too busy between her coffee and whatever
thoughts she was having at the moment. Yagiz was desperate for her to start a conversation, tell him sth - anything, distract him from his own thoughts.. distract him from her.. The expected conversation didn't come. And there he was, free to look. Free to burn another image of hers to his memory. It was a fight within him. He didn't want this freedom. He even resented it. Or did he really?

Because his resentment was fading as
soon as it came. He was cherishing this moment, cherishing her. His guilt was lost on him now.  Before he knew it, he was revelling in the moment. The proximity to her right here right now jammed all outside access, isolating him from anything and anyone. Soon he forgot his guilt, all his good reasons, everything. So he just looked at her, freely. He drank her live image in and it healed his ever-broken heart even if only temporarily.

How did he put it into words at the graveyard? Yes, he remembered

'I keep telling myself to stay away,
to turn my back and go. Then I find
myself with her again. I keep reminding myself that she is forbidden but I also can't take my eyes off her. It is only her and me; as if all my will power, mind and reason strand me, leave me alone with her..
As if I just forgot who I am, forgot that
she is forbidden.'

His fingers itched to touch the loose strands of hair that floated in the air around her face. His train of thought was interrupted by Hazan's voice asking if she has cross-eyes like in one of the pictures. A smile pulled at his lips and he went:

'Hmm. Let me see. Look at me.'

Hazan held the picture next to her face and looked at Yağız. And he looked at her. Time seemed to stretch as he reached with his eyes from her eyes to her nose. To her half open lips. Yağız tried to look away before his reason fled him. So he ripped his eyes off her lips and he tried to dismiss the thoughts that wrapped his brain tightly. He told himself he didn't wonder how those lips tasted. He didn't wonder how it felt to bury his hand in her long dark hair. He absolutely didn't wonder if she would open her lips to him to let him taste her tongue, if he kissed her then and there. Hazan was looking at him intently before she realized his hand. Yağız reached for her hair and brought the rogue strand behind her ear as if it had a mind of its own. Their skin made contact. It was easy to catch a glimpse of the goosebumps that she got and the blush that spread to her chest at this touch. He heard her breath in sharply and saw her eyes skip from his own blue/greenish pools to his lips. And when he looked again this time fully aware of reality, she still had her eyes on his lips. Yağız bit his bottom lip to draw a reaction from her and Hazan's breath escaped her at the same instant. Yet she turned her head away and escaped her eyes when she suddenly stood up and said good night. Her excuse was well made up, she should go to bed and rest the night in order to avoid cross-eyed pictures next day at the shooting.

Now Yağiz had the heart to joke with her again, he thought he was off the hook - for now. As Hazan walked towards his door, the warmth that her proximity offered him was gone and he was cold at his neck and palms. He was also thankful that he didn't forget his guilt for long. God knows what stupid action he would have taken next, had this taken longer.. Many times he had to stop himself from pulling her in his arms or kissing her or telling her that he was desperately in love with her.

But he did none of that- yet.

He let her go once again after an uneventful encounter in his apartment; thankful that his will was strong enough and that he survived those candle light moments unscathed. His regret for the things he could never do as well as his guilt
would haunt him another night.