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They were fixed on her task. She lifted my shirt with a concentration like I was made of glass. Like any wrong movement would shatter me. Like I needed to be handled with the utmost care. The greatest of gentleness. I knew this for certain: it wasn’t me who would break.
The scar tissue over my wounds was far too thick to ever again fall apart. I’d protected myself in so many walls that I was certain I was impenetrable. There was no fear for my heart; it was already in pieces.
It was Aurnia who needed protecting. It was she who was fragile. It was she who would break. My fingers brushed against the thin skin of her wrists. My eyes trailed along her arms, delicate bone connecting to delicate bone. Her clavicle, visible through the worn material of her shirt, looked so fragile.
I was a beast compared to her. A monstrous creature. It would take nothing at all to split her in two. To destroy her. To leave her broken beyond repair.
I tightened my grip around Aurnia’s wrist, my fingers easily circling the narrow bones. I said nothing. I just held her. Until her eyes returned to mine. This was my last defence. Her last warning. It took everything inside of me to hold her still. Everything inside of me to hold myself back.
Her name came once more to my lips in the dark.
I felt her fluttering heartbeat against my thumb. She did not look away. She hardly blinked. I thought she might have seen the light. I thought this last hesitation might have been what she needed to come to her senses. Run, I shouted at her in my head. Run!
But when the stillness was broken it was not by Aurnia pulling away, not by Aurnia running. Instead she did what I never would have expected: she leaned down and used her free hand to encircle my wrist which had been hanging limp at my side. Her eyes did not leave mine as she lifted my heavy arm above my head. Her eyes did not leave mine as she lifted the hand I had gripped in mine right after it. I did not stop her. I did not let go.
With my arms above my head, Aurnia let go of my wrist and pulled hers from my grip. I kept my hands where they were. How easy it was, how simple it was, to damn us both.
The well-worn material of my shirt was soft as she lifted it over my head. Her movements were slow, gentle. I only noticed just the slightest quiver in her fingers as she helped my shirt over my wide shoulders. Her face disappeared from view only for a moment and when she returned to sight, she was looking down at the shirt she held.
I watched her brush her thumb against the material, her eyes intent. When she lifted her eyes to my naked chest it was in much the same way as before: slow, gentle, with only the slightest of quivers.
“I better get to work,” Aurnia whispered, her eyes darting to mine only for an instant.
She went toward her easel. Her hands still worked in my shirt, wringing it like an old rag. She was nervous. I was certain I was even more so.
We were wearing down whatever there was keeping us from one another. What was to happen when we were finally to come face to face? How could one think of that and not be frightened? To see so clearly what you wanted. And know all the time that one should not want it.
We were better in the dark.
But it was too late.
For light, damning light, was coming.
