Bound by fate

By: Lebogang Tlou

Loving himself more than he did any other living being had increased his capacity to love beyond necessity. The previous evening, he had once again found himself lying in bed beside the lover of his soul – and it hurt him less than it ever had before. She lay curled; he lay curled. Their bodies did not touch. They hovered beside one another – at ease, in peace.

She listened to his soft, slow breathing rhythm as he inhaled and exhaled beside her. She observed his features. It was the only time she could enjoy his presence without being overwhelmed by his ever sounding voice. She yearned to touch his face, to trace over his features. In waking, she could not be so close to him without increasing the dormant tensions between them.

Touching him would cause him to stir, and she was still enjoying having him in peace. His locks fell into a fringe covering his forehead. His face had bumps and a bushy beard. She enjoyed his face better this way. He had always looked far too young without his beard; younger than she did. She stifled a laugh, remaining careful so as not to wake him up.

Sleep was coming along, so she lay on her side facing him. He had never before slept with his back turned towards her. She had a perfect view of the back of his head. He wore his hair in a tight bun, which she could see in the moonlight. Her window curtains had been left ajar, and she hadn’t the strength to rise and close them. She gently rested her right hand on his back and closed her eyes to sleep.

He stirred when he felt warmth between his shoulder blades. He smiled, sensing her hand on his back. He allowed himself a moment to savour his reality. He didn’t look at her; he could feel that she was there – which was enough for him. He sunk deeper into his pillow. Her hand fell limply beside him. He rested his left hand inches away from her right hand. She stirred with a grunt, and he drew dead silent.

“Why are you awake?” she asked after moments of absolute silence between them. He had guessed from the change in her breathing that she was now awake, however had offered no interaction in case she was not.

“I am not awake,” he grumbled into his pillow. “This is a beautiful dream, and we’re sharing in it.”

She chuckled, which sounded like a strangled cough. He laughed. They fell silent once more. She turned onto her back, and he did the same. The tips of their pinkies touched. He didn’t pull his hand away this time around. To his surprise, she brought her own hand closer to his, held it, and squeezed. They lay together in silence until the room was filled with gentle snores.

Morning came too soon thereafter. An alarm sounded. 7 o’clock. Snoozed. They were facing one another, holding hands still, their legs entwined.

“You have to get ready for work,” he said.

“I will,” said she. “I’m still enjoying this.”

In that moment, he longed to kiss her, yet he once again suppressed the thought, as he had done the previous night.

“I wish you weren’t so afraid to just kiss me,” she said.

He offered no immediate response. After too long a pause, he ventured “Someday I won’t be,” he said. 7:20. Snoozed. “You have to get to work,” he insisted.

“Will you kiss me?” Luna asked.

He laughed, and looked directly into her eyes. She wasn’t smiling, and looked almost sad. He knew she never wished to ask, and was grateful that she had, because now he could. He draped her free arm around his neck.