There wasn’t some particular or even grand moment when she knew it. No swelling music, no ethereal light that bathed over the room. In fact, the moment it struck her felt like it came two fold. At first it was surprising and altogether lovely, a sort of bursting feeling struck squarely to her chest. Then there was a sudden panic, fear that warred immediately with the good feeling. It was too much, too soon, too … messy.
It dawned on Aurora however, that it wasn’t a new feeling. It was perhaps a reawakened feeling, come from a gradual chipping away at what she presumed was an iron lock around certain things she’d put in her past. Rory had moved on, and told herself just that time and again when she felt low. Anytime something reminded her of Maris, she’d scold herself for thinking of her at all, much less in any way that could be seen as soft, or even weak.
Those moments, those memories - they came less frequently over the years but they did still come. One morning in particular, Jess had found her in the kitchen, staring out at a torrential downpour. Ugh, I hate this weather, she’d complained, but Rory smiled over the lip of her coffee cup. “Huh. I love it.” She said in the most non-confrontational way. It had been well over a year since she’d seen Maris at that point, yet staring out at the rain, her mind swirled with familiar images of racing through the streets, breath clouds clashing against the rain. It gave her a wistful feeling then, some safety in remembering something she didn’t have anymore, wouldn’t have again.
And then there she was. Suddenly, like a firework bursting across some streak of black sky. Rory’s life hadn’t been bleak or depressing, she wasn’t trapped some place she didn’t want to be — but nor was she particularly challenged. She’d settled in, whatever that meant to her, and she was content with it. Perhaps she had convinced herself that this was easier, better in some ways, to just allow herself to find some happiness.
It didn’t go as planned. Nothing did, when Maris breathed life into her lungs with every smile, every kiss, every adventure they wanted to take together. Rory fell head-first, not thinking of the consequences, not thinking over how much destruction would be in their wake.
So it was no wonder that she felt this way. No wonder that this feeling would come back so strongly it nearly bowled her over. Still, she bit her tongue, listening to Maris go on a full monologue over one thing or another. She felt it, and that was all she needed to deal with for the time. Saying it would make it real. Saying it, she couldn’t take it back.
The sound of crashing waves drowned out most in the nighttime, no distraction of people on the beach or sea birds squawking. Rory’d gotten up to get a glass of water, stretching as she moved about their resort room. It really was nice, with a good view to boot.
Slipping back into bed, her body shifted comfortably back against Maris’, an arm draped over her waist. Though she expected her eyes to give way to the weight of sleep in a matter of seconds, she instead stayed alert, watching for just a minute as Maris slept. Not to be creepy about it or anything. For so long, Rory had convinced herself she’d never get to sleep beside this woman again. She’d been okay with it - she’d had to be. Now the echo of promises from years ago filtered through her mind, a strength to them she didn’t expect.
Rory leaned forward, her lips brushing against her cheekbone, not enough to disturb her, but rather she couldn’t stand not doing something, her heart was so entirely full. Gross, really, to feel so intensely romantic. But in the middle of the night, nothing could really be all that scary, all that out there.
“I love you.”
Her voice was barely more than a whisper, but her heart still raced like she’d been screaming it from a rooftop. Maybe one day she would be. She had to let herself trust it first.
It dawned on Aurora however, that it wasn’t a new feeling. It was perhaps a reawakened feeling, come from a gradual chipping away at what she presumed was an iron lock around certain things she’d put in her past. Rory had moved on, and told herself just that time and again when she felt low. Anytime something reminded her of Maris, she’d scold herself for thinking of her at all, much less in any way that could be seen as soft, or even weak.
Those moments, those memories - they came less frequently over the years but they did still come. One morning in particular, Jess had found her in the kitchen, staring out at a torrential downpour. Ugh, I hate this weather, she’d complained, but Rory smiled over the lip of her coffee cup. “Huh. I love it.” She said in the most non-confrontational way. It had been well over a year since she’d seen Maris at that point, yet staring out at the rain, her mind swirled with familiar images of racing through the streets, breath clouds clashing against the rain. It gave her a wistful feeling then, some safety in remembering something she didn’t have anymore, wouldn’t have again.
And then there she was. Suddenly, like a firework bursting across some streak of black sky. Rory’s life hadn’t been bleak or depressing, she wasn’t trapped some place she didn’t want to be — but nor was she particularly challenged. She’d settled in, whatever that meant to her, and she was content with it. Perhaps she had convinced herself that this was easier, better in some ways, to just allow herself to find some happiness.
It didn’t go as planned. Nothing did, when Maris breathed life into her lungs with every smile, every kiss, every adventure they wanted to take together. Rory fell head-first, not thinking of the consequences, not thinking over how much destruction would be in their wake.
So it was no wonder that she felt this way. No wonder that this feeling would come back so strongly it nearly bowled her over. Still, she bit her tongue, listening to Maris go on a full monologue over one thing or another. She felt it, and that was all she needed to deal with for the time. Saying it would make it real. Saying it, she couldn’t take it back.
The sound of crashing waves drowned out most in the nighttime, no distraction of people on the beach or sea birds squawking. Rory’d gotten up to get a glass of water, stretching as she moved about their resort room. It really was nice, with a good view to boot.
Slipping back into bed, her body shifted comfortably back against Maris’, an arm draped over her waist. Though she expected her eyes to give way to the weight of sleep in a matter of seconds, she instead stayed alert, watching for just a minute as Maris slept. Not to be creepy about it or anything. For so long, Rory had convinced herself she’d never get to sleep beside this woman again. She’d been okay with it - she’d had to be. Now the echo of promises from years ago filtered through her mind, a strength to them she didn’t expect.
Rory leaned forward, her lips brushing against her cheekbone, not enough to disturb her, but rather she couldn’t stand not doing something, her heart was so entirely full. Gross, really, to feel so intensely romantic. But in the middle of the night, nothing could really be all that scary, all that out there.
“I love you.”
Her voice was barely more than a whisper, but her heart still raced like she’d been screaming it from a rooftop. Maybe one day she would be. She had to let herself trust it first.