March, 2016
10 more days. That's all. But it still feels like a lifetime. It's been just over a year, and I talked to her whenever I could; that sort of thing was hard during the war.
She wrote me letters in her endearing messy scrawl, and when I could, I'd reply briefly, trying to put as much feeling as I could into it with my allotted 5 minutes of writing time; she always knew what I was trying to say. She always knew what to say. When one of the members of my unit died-- PFC Lerman, a guy who'd become a pretty close friend, like a brother-- she knew how to calm me, how to ease my heartache and stop my survivor's guilt. She just... She knew me.
———
Five more days. Time - when I'm away from her - feels like a curse, yet - when I'm with her - feels like a blessing. I guess time is a blessing and a curse. But then it really isn't; time will pass at the same speed whether you're feeling happiness or sorrow. But I guess most people want the good times to last and the bad times to go away.
I don't ask for much, if anything. So, just this once, I'd like for time to speed up- no, not that; I'd ask for these five days to be less, to be nothing, because the war was over, and after these five days, I wanted nothing more than her.
———
Today's the day. I got off the plane and grabbed my lone carry-on. I exited the airport and hailed a taxi, still wearing my military ACUs, the same ones I was wearing when-- no, I'm not going to think about that. I couldn't. I could, however, focus on the fact that I was on my way home to her. She, of course, had no knowledge of my return; I wasn't technically due back for another five months. It didn't matter; I have a pretty good rapport with my higher-ups.
I was exiting the taxi down the street from our home, and it was three in the morning, but that didn't deter me in the slightest. I could go a few days without sleep now. Actually, I'd already been up for two, just trying to make sure that I was mentally prepared to come back. As I was walking up the front walk, I noticed how hard my heart was pounding. Was I nervous? Hell yes. But I was also euphoric, though now feeling slightly more inclined not to show it. The military, the war... it could do that to a person, make them stoic; when it counts, at least. Being that I was occasionally a sniper, my hands had to be steady. But I found that I couldn't even hold the key to my front door up to the hole. I dropped those keys at least five times before I could successfully unlock the door. A tiny plug-in night light was glowing softly in the darkness. I was deliberate and quiet in my movements. Up the stairs... down the hall... gently, gently open the closet near the bathroom.
I pulled out a big t-shirt and some sleep shorts and changed, hanging my uniform there neatly. I washed my hands in the bathroom, freeing myself from the bacteria of the plane, the taxi... clean from that, but the blood on my hands stays. Though I knew it would.
I walked into the bedroom to see her sleeping form on my side of the bed. I let out a breath that I felt like I'd been holding since the day I left her more than a year ago. That proverbial weight had been lifted from my shoulders as I lifted the duvet and got closer to her, the bed's slight movements not enough to wake her. I couldn't believe it; I was finally home. I placed a gentle hand on the baby-soft skin of her cheek and stroked just below her eye with the pad of my thumb. Her chocolate brown eyes were an unmatched favorite of mine, and they were beginning to open slowly, almost hesitantly, as though she was reluctantly being pulled from a pleasant dream. Her hand slowly lifted to rest on my jaw.
"Lolo... I miss you. I don't want to wait five months to see you, hold you, have you hold me..." her velvety voice drifted to me, and her words were slurred slightly. Ah, she's still asleep.
"Baby... wake up. I'm here." I held her, almost disbelieving the fact that I was even there, with her, smelling her sweet, vanilla scented hair.
"..." she was silent, and it seemed as though a film was being removed from her eyes as she blinked at me with slowly widening eyes. She looked at me, really looked at me, then. She saw me, saw her hand on my jaw, and experimentally slid it down to my pulse point, where my neck met my shoulder. I was sure she could feel my erratic heartbeat beneath her fingers, but if she did, she didn't say anything about it. Barely breathing, I gazed into her eyes as they filled with tears.
Placing a hand behind her head, I pulled her closer to me, until the only thing between our lips was a breath.
"I love you, Camila. And I thought of you every second I was away," I whispered to her, my voice a little bit gruff from disuse.
"I love you too, Lauren... God, I do. I... You're here, you really are... But how? The war isn't over, and isn't expected to be over for another five months..." She still didn't pull away, and for that I was thankful. I needed this closeness, the proximity of her body right now.
"I've got friends in high places. I told her that I needed to see you. That I couldn't fight anymore until I saw you, held you... kissed you," I murmur the last part, finally reconnecting our lips for the first time in 413 days, or 59 weeks, or 13.5691 months, or... Just over a year. I thought I was home before, but I was wrong. Kissing Camila now, that was truly home. Well, you know what they say, 'Home is where the heart is'. I think that's true. I mean, she tastes so sweet, and her mouth just fits mine in just the right way, and the way her arms are around my neck, and the way my hands hold her waist.
I feel rejuvenated, like I can breathe again, and as we're as close as we can be, and I can feel her relief in the breaths that she takes, and the small sounds that she makes. At some point, I felt her tongue against my lips, so I parted my lips to grant her access, and there was no fight for dominance, no. Just a reacquainting of two people. Lovers.
When we finally pulled apart, I leaned my forehead against hers and just stared into my favorite pair of eyes; they're too beautiful, really. Except they're not. Everything about her is perfect, even though she's wearing old, ratty clothes that belong to me, I think she could model them.
"I never want you to leave again," she told me, her hand tightly clasped in my own.
"I never want to leave again. But you know it's not under my control. Either way, Camz, let's not focus on that. Let's just focus on the fact that we'll be together when we wake up in the morning. Together, in the same house, same city, same country, same hemisphere!" I exclaimed, only now feeling the fatigue start to catch up to me.
"I'm just... really, really happy that you're home now. I mean, wearing your clothes and sleeping on your side of the bed helps, and it's great and all, but-" she started, but I cut her off, pecking her on the lips briefly.
"-But it doesn't stop you from being lonely, huh? I know. Just like when I was stationed in Syria, five months ago, when -- I... I mean that I know how you feel, how you felt.
"On those nights when explosions were the sounds I heard at what would have normally been bedtime, I'd wished I was hearing your voice instead. When things were going crazy, when I felt scared... I just thought of you. I thought of you, and I thought about the war.
"Like... How do you feel about the war, Camzi? I'm genuinely curious." I ask her, feeling her soft, slender fingers find and clench around my own calloused ones.
"I never liked the war. It's violent and unnecessary, and it took my family away from me... I don't mean to sound insensitive, but both of your parents are dead, and my parents and I are all of the family you have..." Camila says, uncharacteristically quiet.
"Don't forget Dinah. And all of the Hansens. They're my family too, not that they'd ever allow me to forget it. They're our family."
"Plus Mani and their little girl," she replied to me, which brought a tired smile to my face.
We talked for a good while, until the fatigue became almost overwhelming. Camila could tell, I knew.
"We'll talk in the morning, Laur?"
"Of course. We will. I just need to sleep. I'm sorry for waking you, but not sorry I'm here. Um. Anyways, goodnight, babe." I murmur, rolling onto my back, pulling her with me. Though I've been gone a while, we still fit like two parts of a puzzle.
It was silent then.
In silence, I reflect. Though, not now. I sleep with the comfort of knowing I'll see her again when I wake.
———
A/N:
omg ok well I didn't think I was going to write fanfic again, like ever. but here I am. I'm not sure if I'll continue this, it was actually a fanfic by me but for a different fandom. should I continue it? what do you think?
— Courtney