the butterfly effect | l. garmadon

thirty-five

  He's an active relaxer. That made sense for him.

  Lloyd lifted his gaze from the weapon to me. I stared at it in his hand blankly, still working on waking up. The emptiness in my chest from the nightmare had yet to recede. Thunder crashed outside and made me flinch.

  He turned toward me and patted the bed beside him. "C'mere." 

  My eyes drifted to his face. "Hm?"

  He patted the duvet again. I rubbed my eyes one more time before shuffling across the mattress toward him. The morning had a little bit of a chill to the air and it prickled against my skin, raising goosebumps. Lloyd mitigated it by wrapping his arm around my waist and pulling me to sit, trapped between his legs. He laid the sword across my lap and held up the whetstone for me to take.

  It took a moment for my brain to catch up, and then I was blushing wickedly. It was too early to be in a position such as this - what did he expect me to do? Lose my head? I took the offered whetstone with a hesitant hand.

  Lloyd laid his chin upon my shoulder. "I'm gonna teach you how to sharpen a sword."

  "I think you're gonna teach me how to have a heart attack," I muttered with a fluttering heart. His quiet chuckle escaped him in a breath.

  Lloyd showed me how to hold the blade and position my hand over the whetstone. He explained the force needed and demonstrated it with his grip over mine, his touch warm and guiding. It was strangely intimate and informative, a combination I realised I quite enjoyed. Soon, I was sharpening the sword by myself.

  The rain had returned with force. With that and the thunder, it created a symphony with the shink, shink of the stone sliding against the blade. Lloyd was almost dozing off again with his head tucked against mine, arms looped around my waist. His body was warm enough to stave off the cold.

  "Do you think it's storming because of Morro?" I quietly asked.

  "I don't know," he murmured.

  "What are we going to do if we can't stop him?"

  Lloyd hid his face into my shoulder. "Don't know. I'm just glad I'm back with you."

  My rhythm faltered. I'd missed him so much. "Me, too."

  Lloyd changed the subject without even speaking a word. He ran the backs of his fingers along my bruised throat, and it both felt heavenly and tinged with a little bit of pain. He pressed his lips to the imprint of his own hand. My shiver was  involuntary, rolling up my spine with an inhale that was sharp and shaky. He kissed my neck again.

  Lloyd knew I wouldn't let him apologise for something he didn't do, but he also knew I wouldn't stop him from saying sorry through his lips. I was weak for him, and he was always able to use that to his advantage. I wasn't being hyperbolic when I said I was wrapped around his finger.

  The whetstone dropped with a heavy thud and rolled across the floor. Lloyd flinched.

  "Sorry-" I whispered, but was cut off by his fingers lifting to my chin and turning me toward him. My apology died on his lips.

  I startled at first, but then my eyes closed as I leant into the kiss, pulled along by his enticing touch. The katana on my lap slid to the floor and clattered, but this time Lloyd didn't jump at the sound. He just continued to kiss me, soft and sweet and content, enamoured into docility, calm with quiet reverie.