INTO THE STARS
———
BRINLEY
The morning rays of sun spill through the sheer curtains, the room glowing and casting a soft shine on the bed where I lay.
The first thing I acknowledged upon waking up this morning was my lack of clothing, first of. And then, I noticed the naked body laying beside me, our limbs entangled. Waking up right next to Malachi this morning was... serene. Comfortable. Oddly idyllic.
There was one—the more sane—part of me that was battling with my heart, which was telling me to stay for as long as possible, enjoying his warmth and the contentment of it all.
Clearly, my heart gave out because thirty minutes later, I am still laying in Malachi's bed and in his warmth.
It's dangerous. Risky. This whole situation is. One week with him and I can already feel myself potentially catching feelings that I am more than sure are not reciprocated.
Which is all the more reason to leave this bed right now but... I just cannot find the will to do so.
My hand is splayed out on Malachi's bare torso, concentrating on the feeling of every steady rise and fall with each breath he takes beneath my palm. Lazily, I trace the beautiful design of one of the many butterfly tattoos scattered across his chest. I take everything in because, within a few hours, this serenity will all be gone. This bubble we have been trapped in will have popped. And life will be back to normal. I don't know what that means for us. Or if there even is an "us."
The light spilling through the window creates a gorgeous glow across Malachi's tanned and tattooed skin. I think I am obsessed with how peaceful he looks currently with the morning sun shining on his bare body, his face relaxed and free of the impassive expression he usually mars.
I close my eyes momentarily, Malachi stirring awake beside me. His muscles pull taut with his deep inhale while he gains consciousness. One arm snakes around my back, tugging me closer to his body until we are essentially cuddling. I can't ignore how right our bodies feel together in such a simple way, and I like it entirely too much.
A grumbled, strained noise falls from his lips and I press my chin to his chest, staring up at him. "Morning," I mumble once he opens his eyes just a sliver, looking directly at me.
If I thought his eyes were beautiful in the darkness, nothing compares to the way they look first thing in the morning, the sun shining on them and making them look like silver.
"Sleep well?" I whisper.
Malachi makes a noise and I can't discern the meaning behind it. "No nightmares, so that is a plus, I guess."
A sad yet pleased smile tugs at my lips. Sad because no one should have to fear sleep because of their past. Pleased because he escaped his demons, even if it was for one night. That is always progress.
A tranquil silence envelops us. His arms remain a constant around my body, heating my body and seemingly protecting me from the world.
"We go back home today," Malachi states, and I know it is a scary thought for both of us. He knows it too or else he wouldn't have said anything.
I dismiss him, ignoring the anxiety that rolls through my body at our impending reality. My hand goes back to his chest, tracing a different butterfly tattoo this time. "Why butterflies?"
Malachi releases a noncommittal sound, leaning back ever so slightly so I can get a closer look at the pieces of art scattered over his body. "I get them every year on my mother's death anniversary." He clears his throat, hesitant to move on. "They, uh, sort of, remind me of her. Butterflies closely resemble the process of spiritual transformation and change. And they also serve to remind us that human life is short, hers being a prime example. My first tattoo was actually a butterfly when I was seventeen, and I haven't stopped the tradition since."
"That's..." I start, not sure how to finish or even put into words and comprehend what he just said. "They are gorgeous."
He places a kiss on the column of my neck, inhaling a deep breath of my scent. "How did you sleep?"
I smile, softly. "Can't complain. My cuddle-buddy wasn't the worst."
"Here I was, waiting to complain about your mediocre cuddling skills, but it seems you beat me to it," he says, and even though there is no hint of humor on his face, I know he is messing with me.
"Oh, shut up." I swat his chest, not withholding the playful smile that breaks loose on my face.
Malachi stares down at me, a childish grin stretching across his features, taking my breath away. It is a shame he doesn't smile as much as he does because it truly is the best thing in the world. Then again, I enjoy the thought of keeping them for myself selfishly too much, so I guess it is a good thing he doesn't do it as often.
His honest gaze lands on my face, a mischievous gleam hinting at them, heating my body and bringing an incandescent glow when he flips us so he is on his back and I am lying on top of him.
Malachi keeps his eyes on me and I try not to fixate on my bare chest, laying flush against his. A smirk tugs at the corner of his mouth, letting me know he is about to speak. "Tell me about yourself, Jones."
"What do you wanna know?"
"Everything," he tells me, saying it like the simplest thing in the world. "But how about we start off with why you wanted to become a surgeon?"
It should be a straightforward answer and I guess, in some sense, it is. I wanted to save people's lives, and every day is a new challenge you don't know you are facing. The human body—in particular, the brain—has always been intriguing to me. While most students complained about anatomy in school, I was one of the few that enjoyed it. No one else in my family or that I knew of followed down that pathway and I have no guidance, but I just know that is the right career path for me, somehow, deep down.
"It is a topic of interest and I think that if there is anything I can gain from this interest, saving lives and helping people is probably the most useful outcome," I explain, disregarding his gaze that never wavers from my own.
"What specialty are you looking at?"
I shrug. "The safer option is pediatric surgery, but I think neurosurgery has consistently been what I hoped for my career to end in."
"Do you think you can do it?"
"Maybe."
"That wasn't the answer I was looking for. Now, sweetheart, do you think you can do it?" he repeats, a bit more conviction this time.
The way he speaks to me sparks optimism and I nod at his question.
"Good girl," he murmurs before using a firm hand to pull my head to the crook of his neck. "Whatever you want to do, you can."
I want to tell him he's wrong, but I can't deny the genuine smile he is giving me and the sense of optimism it evokes.
"Do you have any idea what you are going to do after school, Malachi?"
He breathes in and out, in and out before finally saying, "No idea."
I don't know why that upsets me more than it should. Everyone has hope and dreams for what they want to become, starting from such a young age, and it upsets me Malachi doesn't have the same.
"Well then, what are some of your hobbies?"
Malachi tries his best to shrug with my laying on top of him. "Does being alone count?"
I can't tell if he is joking or serious until I lift my head from his neck, instantly missing the scent of woods and spices. His eyes are alight with humor and I elbow him in the waist just lightly.
He cracks another smile. "Music is my hobby, I guess. I have been playing the guitar ever since I could remember."
"Do you love it?" I question, curiosity purely getting the better of me.
"It has always been a sort of escape for me. The feeling of my fingers moving across the strings, creating a beautiful sound that somehow forms a song, gave me an escape. My mother was the one that first taught me how to play when I was younger. I can still remember the first song she taught me and I learned on the guitar," he tells me.
"Have you ever thought about making it into a career?"
Malachi's eyes glaze over, zoning out of reality momentarily. "Not until now. I wouldn't be closed off from it entirely, though."
A prideful smile tips at my lips and I cannot express the feeling that is set free inside of me. My heart beats one beat faster and my blood heats, my brain telling me so many things I can barely concentrate on.
Silence permeates the air and I suddenly want to fall back to sleep in Malachi's arms, knowing there is nothing in the world that could reach me if they trapped me. His stare is glued to me—I can tell from the way my flesh ignites everywhere his eyes trace.
"Why are you staring?" I mutter, my smile peaking through in the way I speak.
"No reason..." Malachi says, but I know there is so much more he wants to say right now. "You are truly something else, Brinley Jones."
I look up at him, those gorgeous gray eyes of his instantaneously holding me captive. "I hope that is in a good way."
"Interpret how you'd like, Jones."
I feign an offended scoff. "Asshole."
Malachi's arms hold me tighter, if that was even possible, and I feel at home. "I am kidding. You are truly the best kind of something else you could ever come across. You are otherworldly."
A blush creeps into my cheeks and I am thankful for the barrier his chest has created, hiding the effect he has on me.
So much for not catching feelings.
・ ・ ・
The stale scent of my apartment building enters my nostrils, reminding me of my whereabouts. After an excruciating long two-hour drive that was just the slightest bit awkward, we finally arrived home.
I trail behind Brooklynn, fatigue filling every step I take closer to our apartment. It's shocking how exhausted you can feel after doing nothing all day long. All I need—and want—right now is a long, soothing bath.
I try not to reveal my surprise when I fail to spot Ben camping outside of my apartment door. I don't know what I was expecting or hoping for, truthfully. But if his text messages this past week were any indication, he more than likely has camped out, waiting for me. He must've given up, much to my relief. I am sure I wouldn't have been able to deal with him the moment I returned.
Brooklynn rummages through her pockets, retrieving her keys from them. She opens the door, pulling her luggage right after her. I linger behind, lugging my suitcase behind me that keeps stalling.
"Brinley!" Brooklynn's voice echoes through the opened apartment door, the tone of her voice prickling my nerves slightly. "Who the fuck is in our apartment?"
He couldn't have gotten inside, could he?
My eyebrows tip downwards, trepidation finding its way into each step.
I briefly hear another voice—a female voice—say something to her, alleviating my worries. I set foot in the familiar threshold of our apartment and an elated squeal hits my ears and a smile tugs at my lips at the friendly face I haven't seen in what feels like so long. It had to have been before the scandal happened.
"Indi? What the hell are you doing here?" I ask, a stunned but delighted grin stretched across my face when I pull her into my arms for a welcoming hug.
"Thought it was about time I come and visit my favorite cousin," she tells me, returning the embrace.
I spare a glance at Brooklynn, her initial shock having worn off, and she seems to go about her day, ignoring the scene Indi and I are making in the quarters of our foyer.
"I thought you were at a boarding school in Montana."
India releases her arms from around me, dragging out a stool from under the kitchen island and planting herself on it. "Oh, I still am, but I took a few days off. Said I was visiting my grandfather who was terminally ill in hospital, which is a complete lie."
I snort, rounding the kitchen island and gathering two glasses, filling them both up with water before offering one to her. "How long are you staying?"
She shrugs, briefing glancing at something on her phone. "My flight back to Montana is Wednesday night."
I nod, silence enveloping us before a sudden question hits me. "Wait... how did you get in? And how long have you been here?"
Another shrug, her gaze falling to her phone as she refuses to look me in the eye. "Your mother gave me a spare key, and I have been here since Saturday. I was wondering where the hell you were because you weren't here when I got here." She winces, looking back up at me. "Sorry for sleeping in your bed."
I roll my eyes, an amused smile contorting my face. "No problem, but from now on, you can take the guest room."
She nods, offering me a lively wink. India lifts her phone, waving it at me in question. "Pizza?"
I smile and nod, now realizing how much I have missed my little cousin during our time apart.