“Wait,” he replies, removing a small silver fob from the chain. “This one's yours.”
Our eyes meet for a second.
“Mine?”
“Your key to my apartment,” he points upward. “I had a spare made while we were at the mall today.”
I’m flooding with emotion, but I try my best to play it cool.
Marco shifts in his seat, suddenly shy.
“You can come and go anytime,” he says. “Even without texting.”
I know how much of a big deal this is for him.
His heart has been through the wringer.
I reach into my pocket and unloop the door key from my lanyard.
“For you,” I say. “I have a spare. At least I think I do. If it's not where I left it, I'll climb up the fire escape.”
“Risky,” he laughs. “Now that you’ve taught me to be spontaneous, I might start showing up after midnight, or whenever I miss you.”
“I hope you do,” I smile.
???
I wake in the early hours, as I often do.
Midnight has come and gone.
The noise from the street has me craving the peace and calm of the lake.
But Marco sleeps through it, thankfully.
One arm loose across my chest, his breath is deep and blissful.
A lock of hair falls across his forehead.
His expression is unguarded in a way that only I see when he’s awake.
This is my favourite part of being an insomniac.
A glimpse of the man I love, when he feels most safe and at ease.
I search for Mark in Marco’s face, imagining him small and vulnerable.
I think about the boy who grew up beneath a blanket of stars.
A canopy that outshone every inch of his shadowy world.
The boy who followed those power lines toward the unknown.
Toward risk and toward love.
I’ve never met another soul so brave.
I can barely fathom the courage it must have taken to leave behind his painted sky.
