The sun was slowly setting. Clea stood near the window, leaning heavily against the wooden frame, watching the beautiful sky change colours. The twilight had washed off the details of the building, leaving behind just a blurred outline, like some forgotten memory, trying to break free.
She was not sure how long she stood there but her left leg felt a bit sore as she stood with her entire weight, weighing down on it. She shifted her weight to her other leg as her mind took her back to the happenings of the previous night. Luca's worried face swarmed into her vision whenever she tried to think of the night before.
She had tried many times before to think of the dream that had led her to fall unconscious, but she couldn't remember anything except an image of a small dark room. Even sitting in the garden on her favourite bench had not helped. She couldn't recollect anything except for the room.
Luca had definitely sounded worried; she knew from the way he had behaved that morning before going to his office. How he had asked her whether she was feeling all right or not and whether she wanted him to stay at home, again and again; the creases on his forehead deepening with every passing second.
The love Clea felt for Luca knew no bounds. She knew she would never be able repay him completely for what he had done for her. She remembered when she was seven year old and had met Luca for the first time. Fourteen-year-old Luca had immediately welcomed his sister with open arms but she had been hesitant, afraid of him, for she was sure she would be hurt again, but as the days had gone by, her trust in him started building, step by step.
She remembered the day clearly when she had started to trust Luca.
It was a warm summer's day. The heat was rising as the days slowly crept by, leaving the people tired and sweaty by the evening. It was a normal day at the Walther residence. Their youngest daughter lay on the couch in front of the TV watching cartoons. Their older son was playing video games in his bedroom. Mrs Walther was busy in the kitchen preparing pies for the guests who were to arrive in the evening. She opened the fridge to look for some eggs but the carton was empty. She creased her forehead as she shifted the vegetables to look for some eggs.
"I remember bringing them," she said to herself as she straightened up and debated what to do. She decided not to put eggs in the dish but then she remembered it was Wednesday, market day.
"Luca...Luca..." she called out to her son.
"Yes, Mom?" he responded, shouting at the top of his voice from his bedroom.
"Come down here for a second," she called.
She heard his footsteps on the staircase and in no time the fifteen-year-old stood before his mother. She smiled at him and said, "I forgot the eggs, Luca. Please go to the market and get them for me," she requested lovingly.
"Mom..." he whined.
"Please Luca; I want it for the guests," she requested back.
"Okay, if I allow you to take Clea with you will you go then?" she asked at last.
"I'll go," he said excitedly and started leaving the kitchen. His mother caught him by his hood and brought him back.
"Take care of her," she said softly.
"Yes mom, I know. I will," he said and ran out of the kitchen.
Luca and Clea walked side by side. He tried to stay as close to her as possible without touching her. Clea was scared of people's touch. She never let anyone touch her, except her adoptive parents. She was even scared of Luca then.
He looked at her and smiled. She stared blankly up at him, not smiling and not saying a word. He looked ahead again, the smile continuing to grace his lips. He looked around himself. The crowd was massive; after all it was Wednesday - the market day. People from neighbouring towns came to shop as well, as everything was sold at concessional prices. It was like a mini fair for all the small kids but not for him. He was a big kid, old enough to go out with his sister alone. His smile widened even more as he thought of the huge amount of responsibility he had upon himself. He glanced sideways at Clea again and puffed his chest.
A new throng that emerged from the subway separated them. People pushed each other to make way for themselves and he saw Clea slowly get swallowed into the crowd. He tried getting to her but the people kept pushing him in the other direction, away from her. Tears built up in his eyes as he shouted her name, but the merciless crowd did not hear him. He managed to push few people away, but by the time he got to where he had last seen Clea she was nowhere to be found. The crowd was slowly disappearing yet Luca stood transfixed at the place, his eyes staring at nothing in particular, with just one word on his lips, 'Clea.'
He started forward, his eyes searching for her and his voice calling out to her. He looked around himself again and again, just to be sure. The fear was building in his chest as the evening slowly crept on. The tears were now flowing quite freely from his eyes and he did nothing to wipe them away.
At last he saw her in the park, adjoining the market. She was sitting on the wooden bench, clutching tightly at her skirt, head bowed and low sobs coming out from her lips.
"Clea," Luca shouted and her head snapped up. A small smile slowly spread on his lips and he ran towards her. She hastily got up from the bench and stood, her skirt still clutched tightly in her fist but the faintest of smiles playing on her lips.
He stopped a few steps away from her, not sure of her reaction. He wanted to hug her and take her in his arms and never let her go. At that moment he didn't even want to acknowledge what the idea of never seeing Clea again did to him. He just wanted to hug her.
He took a step in her direction but she shrank away from him, frightened. He would shout at her for leaving his side. Luca understood the reason. "I won't shout at you. It was my fault, not yours."
She merely shook her head.
"I swear, I won't shout at you. I can't even bear the idea of you getting hurt. Please Clea," he whispered but she refused to believe.
He tried reasoning with her, but she plainly refused to believe him. The night was slowly approaching and Luca had to take her back home but was confused as to what to do. Clea wasn't allowing him to come anywhere near him.
"We have to go home. Mom must be worried." Luca tried again but Clea just stood there, refusing to give in.
At last Luca took out his jacket. He offered one sleeve to her. She hesitated but caught it. He held the other end of the jacket and started walking out of the park, Clea trailed behind him, clutching his jacket in her small fist.
Luca smiled again. He had found a way to get her home without holding her hand and now she wouldn't get lost in the crowd as long as she held onto his jacket. Luca looked back at his sister for the hundredth time and this time he smiled at her. She gave him the faintest smile she could manage, and that was the first genuine smile Clea had given her brother.
"Thank you," he whispered and looked ahead again.
The next day, Clea let Luca tie her shoelaces, holding him by his hair as he knelt down and tied them up.
That incident let Clea to start trusting her brother and as she stood at the window, mesmerized in her own memories, she realised she trusted Luca more than she trusted anybody in her life, not even herself.
A knock on the door brought her back from her reverie. She walked down the stairs slowly, taking her own time. The doorbell rang again.
"Coming," she said as she neared the door. Somehow she knew who the person was. She opened the door to find a messy haired Ryan standing there, leaning against the wall.
"Hey, Clea," he said, giving her his signature full smile.
"Hello, Ryan," she said in a small voice and opened the door further to let him in.
"How are you?" he asked as he made his way over to the couch.
"I'm fine, thanks," she said, giving him a small smile.
"Ah! I was about to make some coffee. Do you want some?" she asked, getting nervous under his constant gaze.
"Sure," he said leaning back against the couch, his eyes still locked with hers.
"Okay," she said and walked towards the kitchen.
Once inside and away from his scrutinizing eyes, she held onto the kitchen counter tightly and closed her eyes.
Why the hell are you getting so nervous, Clea? He is just Ryan, the same Ryan who you have known since the last four years. And why is your heart rate increasing? He is just Ryan...just Ryan, my friend.
She opened her eyes and let out an audible sigh. She relaxed herself completely before opening the cabinet to get the utensils out.
She reduced the heat of the stove as the water started boiling and looked over at the boiling milk. She took the milk off the stove and kept it aside to cool down. Just as she was about to look at the water, she felt him behind her.
Her breath hitched as he came closer from behind her. Her hands clutched the counter tightly as she felt his increasing presence near her. He did not make any attempt to touch her. He simply slid both his hands in his pockets and leaned forwards. Clea could feel his breath on her ear as he slowly closed the distance between them.
Just when he was an inch apart from touching her, he stopped. He leaned into her ear and whispered, 'I was worried about you. You don't know what the night was for me."
Clea didn't say anything, simply stared down at the fingers clutching the counter.
"You very nearly gave me a heart attack, you know," he whispered further. "And I had to come and see you."
Clea's heart was beating very fast. She couldn't think of a sane thing to say to him. She couldn't even look at him. Finally, he slid his fingers under her chin and turned her around to face him.
She turned around and found herself trapped between him and the counter. His left hand lay on the counter and the fingers of his other hand were still under her chin. She kept her eyes down, looking at her shoes as he looked at her.
"Look up at me," he whispered softly.
She didn't react. She didn't say anything but continued to look at down. She had never felt so shy in her life before.
"Clea, look up. I need to see them, your eyes. They tell me more truth than you do," he said again, and this time she looked up and their eyes locked.
He brushed his thumb across her cheek, instantly colouring them bright red. "Beautiful," he said in a low tone.
And everything turned silent for her. She could no longer hear the birds, she could no longer see the house and she could no longer feel the breeze playing in the house, all she just saw was Ryan, just Ryan.
Her body was radiating her heat and his body was absorbing it, connecting them in a way so powerful that would have burnt the entire forest in seconds. She felt electricity course through her as he leaned towards her.
Her eyes were peaceful. She knew she could not move, until he permitted her to. She saw his face, with content in her eyes and back into the pure brilliance of his eyes. He looked fixedly at her; it was not a glance, but just an act of ownership.
He slowly leaned forward, his eyes now on her lips. She closed her eyes as she felt him inch even closer to her. She rested her hands on his chest as she readied herself for the moment.
They could feel each other’s breath, their bodies almost touching. Ryan was about to close the remaining distance between them when he heard Luca’s voice,
“Clea, I’m home.”
She startled out of her trance and her eyes snapped open. They locked on Ryan's eyes for a moment before she pushed him back and turned back to face the still boiling water.
“Clea,” she heard him again.
“Yeah…I…I’m in the kitchen,” she replied as she turned off the stove.
Luca walked in to the kitchen and was surprised to find Ryan leaning against the fridge.
“Hey, man, when did you get here?” he asked as he walked towards Clea.
“A while ago,” Ryan replied, running his hand through his already messed up hair.
Luca smiled at him and turned to Clea. “Hey, how are you?”
“I’m fine,” she said, smiling up at him.
“Are you all right?” he asked, creasing his forehead. “You look flushed.” He placed his hand on her cheek and gave it a gentle squeeze.
“Oh! Yes, I’m. I’m fine, just a bit…” She looked in Ryan's direction and back at Luca, “…tired.”
Luca smiled again. “You should rest. Go up and sleep for some time, I will wake you up in time for dinner.”
She nodded and walked out of the kitchen without sparing a single glance at Ryan. Once out of the kitchen, she ran all the way to her room, closed her door and stood leaning against it, her breathing slightly erratic.
She closed her eyes and the moment flashed before them again. She could still feel his presence, even though he was not there with her. She could feel his breath, and she felt the sensation of love and peace, of beauty and life settling inside her.
-----
Ryan slipped his hands in his pockets as he walked back home. He couldn’t get Clea out of his mind. There was no necessity for him to spare, lie, agree and erase himself out of being, it was just him and Clea. He found a will in thinking about her, a will which granted him to recognize his own entity, untouched and not to be touched by except her. It was an act of tension, as intense as electricity and it became pain as he longed for her again. It was an agony, waiting for her to realize what she is to him, an act of passion. And there he was, waiting for her to own him, to be seen and touched by her. He knew she could not have been anyone else's but his; as his face, his soul and as his body. He desired her. There was no effort to be made with her, it was real and right. It made everything right, everything natural.