Divergence

A Little Peace

You wonder...if you've had a vision of your impending demise?

You wonder...if that is how you're meant to die?

You try to cling on to that precious sense of calm you fought so hard to obtain last night.  You look around and remind yourself that you're safe, that you managed to get away from Gabriel.  You try to ignore what's crawling up and down your spine, your growing impatience, and your nauseating anxiety. 

You whisper to yourself over and over again that you're safe, that Gabriel can't find you here.  You ran away, and this time, he can't find you.  You whisper it as though it were a chant, a desperate prayer for peace.

But you can hear venomous tongue lash out within you, the one that's quick to tell you that it's all your fault, that you'll never be safe, because Gabriel is all you know.

Gabriel is your home, your life, your everything.  And now, you went and spoiled everything, you ungrateful wretch.

You deserve no mercy.

But you don't want to believe that...at least not yet.

...this is all one big mess.

You notice his presence when he stirs slightly, and then falls back into his fitful slumber.  You exhale a breath you didn't realize you were holding.  That's right...you two shared a bed last night...because he refused to sleep on the couch. 

He sleeps on his side, snoring quietly.  His dark brown hair, normally covered covered by that thick black skull cap is matted and spread widely across the pillow.  Thankfully, he isn't sleeping naked.  He shucked off the big, black overcoat and black boots (the ones that you thought were only reserved for pimps, gangsters, and men that were generally up to know good) and kept on his dark gray sweater and black slacks.

This is a rare sight.  You hardly ever seen what's underneath that coat.  He's not exactly forthcoming with that information, either.  He so bloody mysterious, it's beyond frustrating.  Even though the two of you have been acquainted for a while, there is still so much you don't know about him, and he's never felt the need to tell you anything, either.  You're too afraid to come right out and ask.  You're afraid of his reaction - the inevitable "none of your Goddamn business".

Still...he always managed to be there for you when you needed him to be.  He knows everything about you - where you live, what you study, the things you like to eat, and the things that make you smile.  He knows much you hate his mysteriousness, which only fuels his need to be secretive.  He knows your parents, he knows who your friends are, which books you read, and the car you hope to drive someday.

He knows your favorite color.  He knows you like Massive Attack and Goldfrapp and that you'll just close your eyes and listen to it because it makes you feel relaxed, and you can just let go and enjoy things when you're relaxed.

He also knows that the minute he tries to sing, you'll tense up and use up all your energy trying to shut him up - and you will fail miserably every time.

He knows you'll tell him everything, whether he asks or not.  He'll never force you to say anything - you'll always spill, no matter what. 

He knows that when you're with him, you feel safe...and that when you're with him, you feel unsafe.

Safe and unsafe...for different reasons.

The sunlight streams in through the blinds...warms a halo around your head.

You remember...yes, you remember that this isn't the first time you've slept beside him like this.  There was one night when you didn't want to go home to Gabriel.  You didn't want to stare into his eyes and walk on eggshells, all the while preparing for coming storm.  You just wanted to go somewhere else...and be someone else.  For one night, you wanted to feel normal.  You wanted to know what it was like to live as though Death waited at your door.