She Watches - 1. She Watches.

The wind whispered against the windowsill as the sheer curtains bobbed and curtseyed. The moon gazed lovingly at the two sleeping forms, melded in an embrace, separate and together. She bathed them in her gentle light, illuminating their shape with her reflected glow. As she did with the tides, she watched them push and pull breaths, deep and regular.

Lines creased his forehead. His jaw tensed. His supple body morphed, curves hardened, as his muscles lined themselves with adrenaline. A slight tremor ran through his readied body, as breaths grew shallower and more frequent.

A gasp shattered the peace of night, and eyes flew open to reveal pupils blown. Wheezing, he lay in the bloodied remains of a battlefield. A moment passed, the adrenaline retreated quietly as exhaustion inched its way back into his bones. His fist unclenched to reveal pink crescent indents that would fade before the sun rose. His body was his to control again.

Damp fabric clung to the inside of his thighs, reminding him of his shame, of his sins. He brushed his fingers against the surrounding fabric. It was dry to the touch. It was only him. He manoeuvred himself out from under the covers. Sitting on the edge of the space he shared with another, he cast a glance over his shoulder. A lean body his hands remember hidden under sheets, soft luscious hair pressed against a pillow, pink semi-parted lips his own have felt a thousand times over, and the warm chocolate eyes he found himself so often lost in lay hidden behind closed lids. He smiled.

The teak floors supported his weight quietly, lending him strength, as he padded across the room to the attached bathroom. He slid the door shut. Darkness descended on him. His fingers found the light switch and then, nothing. The brightness burned, exorcising the lingering shadows. Blotches of colour marred his vision as the room focused around him. He peeled off the soiled trunks and dropped them into the laundry basket.

He stepped into the shower. Water droplets rained down on him, pounding against his flesh. He wondered if they would bruise. Twisting the knob to the extreme, steam rose as the droplets exited the nozzle. Redness spread across his skin as he scrubbed. He was briefly reminded of a baptism before he snorted at the impossibility.

Which god would want me now?

Passing a towel over his reddened skin, he revelled in the tranquility. He stepped into a fresh pair of trunks and exited the bathroom. Moonlight caressed his skin as he stalked across the room. He gazed out into the quiet street, void of life, sleeping, except him.

Tracing his fingers over the faded line on his abdomen, images of a desert flashed in his mind. He shifted his hand to the protrusion on his shoulder blade; the smell of burning flesh assaulted him. As he littered feather-light touches along the line across his thighs, he swore the blood-curling screams were coming from the house across. He dropped his hands. He dropped his eyes. The light floated down through the open window, revealing the angry red lines that marked the insides of his arms. Razor-thin and barely healed, they wove a web of shame and guilt. He wondered if he would add another tonight.

No, not tonight, he decided.

Walking over to his wardrobe, he withdrew the garment bag from its depths. The zipper ran along its tracks quietly as he removed the bag to reveal its contents. The moonlight illuminated the bold black lettering emblazoned across the left breast pocket of the shirt: WALTERS G.

It was him. He fingered the bold lettering.

Fire.

Children screaming.

Running.

Aching in his legs.

Freezing nights.

Scorching days.

Heaviness in his bones.

Helicopter blades.

Flailing corpses.

Friends.

Foes.

Blood.

Him.

He dropped the uniform. It took all of his strength to remain standing. The guilt and shame flared up inside of him. A profound emptiness in the pit of his stomach grew, like a black hole, demanding more and more of his soul, a payment for his crushing debt.

Strong arms encircled his waist, pulling him in. His back pressed against a warm chest, a chin rested atop his shoulder. The moonlight washed over him in waves. He felt his emotions puddle around him, leaking and running from every pore. He felt exposed.

“Greg,” a voice thick with sleep crooned.

“I missed you,” the voice teased.

“Lance… I…,” Greg’s voice failed him.

A finger silenced him as the warmth against his back dissolved into the cool night air. The moon disappeared behind a shadow. Chocolate brown eyes gazed into his own, as he was pulled into an embrace. He melted into the warmth, aching with exhaustion.

Lance brushed his lips across Greg’s shoulder blade before pulling back from the connection. He lowered his head to trace the contours of Greg’s abdomen with the tip of his tongue. Greg stumbled back and sat himself on the bed. Lance trailed light kisses against Greg’s thighs before kneeling before him. He lifted Greg’s wrists and touched his lips to each of them. Illuminated by the gentle light, Lance looked akin to an angel. Greg relaxed. He looked into Lance’s warm eyes and felt himself being filled. The cold emptiness inside him still throbbed with need but muted by his yearning for Lance.

Laying Greg down on the bed, Lance positioned himself behind him. He wrapped his arms around the wounded man. Greg’s skin glowed in the low light, reminding Lance of sandy beaches and summer nights.

“You’re beautiful,” he whispered.

“I’m broken,” Greg reminded, the words escaping in little more than huffs of air.

“Then, I’ll hold you together until you can,” Lance assured, the love in his voice evident.

Greg felt the last of his fears dissolve as he leaned against the man who had given him so much. He felt his resistance wane and he could be noble no more.

“I’m going to be selfish and hold you to that,” he said.

“I was hoping you would,” Lance said, a smile interwoven with his words.

In the night, a hand sought out another. Clasped in a promise, sleep claimed them. The moon continued gazing lovingly at the two sleeping forms, melded in an embrace, separate and together. She bathed them in her gentle light, illuminating their shape with her reflected glow. As she did with the tides, she watched them push and pull breaths, deep and regular.