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thejunkelemental · 4 years

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A final mirror

It’s morning. The sun greets me before my alarm does, lancing through ineffective blinds. I withdraw into the covers with a hiss. Sometime in the night I gravitated back towards the space between my bed and the wall, like some sort of cave animal seeking the snake-crevice. I can only feel the back of your hands, pushes forward against the skin of my shoulder, maintaining contact without allowing me to pull you into my hidey hole. Beneath the covers I find my way to you, running my hands along your skin gently. With the light already filling the room, I’m in a rare moment of actually being awake first and I take a couple seconds to just watch you breathe evenly. Your face is so relaxed and I lean forward and place a kiss at the corner of your mouth. Reaction is immediate, the tugging of a small smile and scrunching your nose. Not asleep after all but just existing without the rigor of waking.

“Morning, Dandelion.” “Morning Snapdragon.” I smile. I like saying the word.

“You ok?” “Sooooore.” You draw out the word like a purr. “I’m sorry.” You scrunch your nose again and sock me, not hard, but hard enough to make the smack of skin on skin. “Good sore.” I laugh, rub sleep from my eyes and then wrap my arms around you. You trace tiny circles around my bellybutton with a nail. “Are you ok?” “ I’m... super good.” I reciprocate lightly caressing your back and shoulders. “Thanks for staying.” My voice is deep, the gravel of vocal chords only beginning to wake.

“Anytime,” you say, “Within reason.” Your nail pokes a little harder and you tap it on my skin menacingly, “Bitches line up for miles to get a piece of me, you have to earn it.” “Your wish is my command.” I reply, low, raspy. “Don’t use a Fitz voice, you asshole!” I get hit with a pillow, “I have to go work!” “Blurgh,” is my only reply, sneaking in to plant a kiss solidly, lingering only to taste you, and rolling out of bed. I land on the floor on all fours and briefly consider just sleeping there. Marceline stares at me from my computer chair with her usual indecipherable wide-eyed judgement. Stretching, I stand. I’m comfortable naked, especially after the last few nights and lightly kick some of the books and things I had to shove off of my bed in a hurry. I’ll clean them up later. I pad into the bathroom and turn on the shower, setting out my toothbrush and toothpaste for after. I hear your stirring in the room behind and smile at the mirror, lightly poking my own bruises and grinning. “See you for lunch later?” I call back, pushing my cologne back up against the mirror and re-ordering them by color. “Nah. I got lunch with Aaron. Do you wanna come?” “S’all good,” I say back, “You two do your thing. I’ll grab lunch with Kelsea maybe...or Cameron if he gets a break from work. Heading back home tonight?” “Yep!” “Tell Edgar hello for me, huh? And ask Aaron if he’d be up for talking movie projects later. I have like...three ideas I want to run by him and Danny.” You appear in the doorway, silhouetted by the light. You’re beautiful. It’s hard not to smile dreamily into the mirror back at you. You walk by me, lightly spidering your fingers across my back. “First go at the shower is yours,” I say, turning to look at you, “Use up all the hot water at your own peril.” Tapping an angry bite-bruise on your neck you pull an innocent face, your voice rising into Dennewin’s register, “Oh, Whatever will my punishment be?” I swat at your ass, miss, and almost unbalance into the tub. You laugh and ruffle my hair and I retreat back to the bedroom to give you your time. My computer is still on standby from the night before. I draw my finger across the pad to pull up the script I was writing. Not feeling it, I minimize the window and pull up the other document...a slam poem I’ve been finalizing for a performance next week. I tweak with the words a little, finally setting the computer aside.

Your arms snake around me, and I almost jump. Catching myself, I lean back into you, feeling the pressure of your breasts against my bare back and look up. “Your dialogue needs work on page four.”

“What? Really? Urgh...” I draw out the sound and close my eyes. “When did you read my screen play?” “Last night.” You slide around and settle into my lap, wrapping your arms around my neck and drawing your nails through my hair. “I had a bit of a nightmare, woke up, and your computer was just on.” “Damn ghosts.”

“Or cat.” “If Marceline is reading my screenplays in the secret hours of the night, I have more to worry about than my dialogue on page three.” My left hand rises up to your head, drawing my fingers and nails across your skin. The sound of contentment is immediate and you settle against my shoulder, “What is the matter with my dialogue anyways?” “Have you tried reading it aloud? It kinda comes off a little cardboard.” “Cardboard?” “Like a cardboard cutout. It’s there, but flat. Rub some spice on it.”

“How?” You lean in and kiss the skin around my lips, “Record Dennewin and Fitz sometime, or even Rhune and Dennewin. Good dialogue freely offered. No cover charge.” “Awfully magnanimous of you.” I grin and bite your bottom lip. You withdraw and look off toward the bathroom, “I am awesome, aren’t I?” “Hear, Hear.”

We take a beat. I’m staring at the beads of moisture collecting around the blood-dark marks I left on you the night before. You’re guaging how hot the shower is by the fogging on the mirror. “Is this ok?” You ask without looking at me, a low murmur, like you’re worried I might suddenly snap. “I mean, are you sure you’ll be fine?”

“I think so.” I lean my head back, catching your eyes. “It’s a weird notion, sharing you. But I guess it could be a lot worse...I could have had none of you.” My hands find their way up your back again. I can feel the shiver up your spine. “I know what I wanted to know.”

“What’s that?” You almost seem worried, but I think you know what I’m going to say before I say it. “You’re beautiful.” I sigh, blowing a breath and my words up toward the heavens. “I have loved every single moment with you. A more foolish man would say unwise things.” “What kind of things?” You know. You’re daring me to say the words. I tap your nose. “A more foolish man. I’m not there yet. It’s all kinda complicated and super not ideal.” “Are you a mixture or a potion?”

I chuckle nervously, but your expression never dulls. There’s the hint of a smile, a curve at the edge of your lips that could be anything. Your eyes are level and calm, the clear glass of a cave-lake without a ripple to disrupt. “A potion,” I say, “I think,” I clarify. “I don’t think I’d be any good at Potions class, to be honest.” Your laugh is like a bell. “Ten points from Hufflepuff.” “Hufflepuff? I’m totally in Slytherin.” “Noooo” you grip my cheek with two fingers, “You’ll be my cute little Hufflepuff.”

I reach around to tickle you but you’ve sunk your teeth into my neck and my fingers spasm uselessly in the air beyond your skin. “I gotta get ready for work.” You’re off me in a moment, laughing as you saunter back into the bathroom. I watch you go, rubbing my neck absently and smiling. I hear you step into the spray before I stand up and start absently cleaning my room.

. I’m humming and it takes a minute or two for me to remember I’m walking around naked and my blinds are totally terrible. I duck down around my bed as cars drive past and grab a blanket, wrapping myself up. It smells like you and I take a moment to just breathe that in. My phone has a few missed calls and some texts from friends. I’ve gotta be at work today but my lunch is open enough to accommodate a few folks. “DnD friday still ok?” I call in to you, “Of course!” you call back, as if I’d asked to confirm the color of the sky. “Danny and I are gonna hit up a movie maybe tomorrow or Wednesday, you in?” “Work!” “Oh. Right. Maybe I could make repeated small orders to the Bamboo House and elaborately map a delivery route that would give you enough time to chill.” “If you can pull that off, I’ll be impressed.” “Right. Yes. I shall become a lord of maps and ingenious schemes in the space of a single day. Easily done.”

You appear at the door again, drying off, snorting derisively, “Fitz could pull it off.” “Maybe so!” I say, sliding by you and actually slapping your ass once, “But I am not Fitz...sorta. Or...whatever. You get the picture.” You’re laughing again, gathering your things. “Do you want me to wait for you?” “Go ahead,” I say, testing the water, “I’ll super see you Friday, or whenever you swing by.” “Text me!”

“You first!”

A moment later I hear my phone beep a text message and my bedroom door opening. Marceline protests but over the shower and her cry I hear you, “Byyyyyyyyyyye!” I stand in the shower a long time, longer than I intended to. The water beats a drum against my face and ears, I remember what your fingers felt like, what your skin felt like. “Unwise, little glass bottle, unwise.” I say to myself. And then rub the shampoo into my skull.

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