In The Arms of an Angel - 11. Chapter 11 - Open for me

Lukas and Anna’s spare room was huge, at least compared to Pasha’s flat in the city. The bed it contained was king sized and brand new. Pasha carefully laid the angel on it, after Anna had stripped back the covers and spread a towel over the pillows. Twitching the covers back in place over the supine angel Anna took her leave.

Pasha barely noticed her go. He sat on the edge of the bed and stared at the angel. Their fingers found each other’s as did their eyes and they remained still and silent, as the clock ticked on the wall and the wind battered the window with a smattering of rain that heralded the start of another storm.

It was the angel who broke the spell. “Pasha,” he whispered.

Pasha blinked, as if awakening from a trance and smiled. “You’re supposed to be taking a nap,” he said, making no move to unwind their fingers.

“I’m not tired.”

“Liar.”

A slow smile crept over the angel’s face. “I’m sleepy, Pasha, but not tired. There’s a difference.”

“Yes, there is,” Pasha said, his smile mirroring the angel’s as he lay down on the bed and stared into the beautiful blue eyes that twinkled in the angel’s pale face. “I’m sorry I hurt you. I didn’t mean to.”

“I know.”

“It hurts me that I…” He stopped when the angel’s fingers touched his lips.

“Then forget. I don’t want you to feel guilty for hurting me. It wasn’t your fault. Something is happening to us and…” The angel’s eyes wandered away then wandered back. “I feel that I should know what it is.” He sighed and closed his eyes. “I feel that I am…that I should stop it.”

“Why?” Pasha asked, alarmed. “Do you think it’s bad?”

“I don’t know. That’s the point. I should know but I don’t. My heart is saying it’s not a bad thing but my head is saying… well, I don’t really know what my head is saying because everything is so confused, but I’m thinking we should try to stop before....”

“Before what?”

“I don’t know,” the angel moaned. “I don’t know what I think, I don’t know what I am, I don’t know what I want. No, that’s not true. I do know what I want.” Taking Pasha somewhat by surprise, the angel leaned forward and kissed him.

It wasn’t a tentative kiss, like the first one the angel had surprised him with, or a heated one like the second kiss in the kitchen. This was a kiss that was sure of itself, certain of its reception and worth, unhesitant but also undemanding. It was a firm, sweet, giving kiss and Pasha found himself overwhelmed by it. Tears were pouring down his cheeks and he could hardly breathe. His heart swelled up in his chest and he felt… He felt…

“Open for me,” the angel whispered and Pasha thought he meant his lips. However, when he let his lips fall apart, the angel’s tongue did not slip past them. In fact, it was not in evidence at all, only his firm, soft lips massaging Pasha’s and his breath, filling him with sweetness.

Something was happening to him. The deep emotions that had been stirring inside were in turmoil, as if being stirred by a giant wooden spoon in a cauldron. He felt suffocated. His chest burned and his heart was beating too fast. Panic gripped him but he heard the angel’s voice murmuring somewhere close to his ear. “Open for me.”

And somehow he did. Almost immediately the tumult inside calmed and he felt as if he was floating on the air, encased in something soft…cotton wool…feathers.

He realised he’d closed his eyes and opened them. The angel was smiling down at him, his golden hair floating around his head as if lifted by the wind and his blue eyes shone. Not only were his arms around Pasha but huge snowy white wings, soft as down, encased him in a cocoon of warmth and absolute comfort. Pasha had never felt so safe, so comfortable, so… loved.

“What happened?” he whispered.

“I remembered,” the angel said with an enormous smile.

“Remembered what?”

“How to do it.”

“Do what?”

“This.”

He lowered his wing and allowed Pasha to peep over it at their surroundings. “Oh my God. Where are we?”

“Everywhere and nowhere. This is where we join. Our hearts. Our souls. The inside part. The place deep, deep inside where there’s no separation between what can and can’t be, what was is or will be, what’s you and what’s me. This is the very center, where all things are possible.”

“The center of what?” Pasha whispered, afraid to raise his voice. The deep quiet felt like the holy silence you get in churches and cathedrals and Pasha felt that any loud sound would be almost sacrilegious.

“Of us. This is where we join, where the connection comes from. I can’t explain it. I just know it’s a safe place, somewhere only we can go. Wherever our bodies are, we are also here, together, our hearts beating as one. That is why you felt my hands on you when I was not beside you, why I felt your anger even when you weren’t speaking it.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Neither do I, fully, but I know that the very fact we are here means we are meant for each other, you and I. I am yours and you are mine. It’s woven into the very fabric of who we are.” The angel frowned. “Do you think that is why I am here? Why I came to this place? To find you?”

Pasha was overwhelmed. “I… I don’t know. I….” It was impossible, surely, that an angel would fall from heaven just for him.

“Are you sure I came from heaven?”

“Where else?”

“I don’t know but I feel…I feel it wasn’t a good place. I’m glad to be done with it. Shouldn’t heaven be different to that?”