[ARTEMY]
Hours blurred into a tumultuous cascade of fists and pain, a tumultuous dance of anger and self-reproach. Our collective fury at those who had wronged Rebecca found release through our relentless combat. Leon and Avim soon joined our fray.
“I can barely catch my breath. I suspect I’ve broken something,” Brayden wheezed.
“Coward,” Leon wheezed in retort, fighting his own battles.
“You fell first, even before the rest of us,” Avim quipped to Leon.
With a shake of my head, I limped away from the battleground, my thoughts converging on the one I affectionately called my Angel. It was time to reunite with her.
I turned the doorknob, allowing the door to creak open, revealing Rebecca seated on the bed, her gaze fixated blankly upon the wall. Abruptly, her eyes pivoted towards mine, catching me in their glance. Preferring to remain concealed within the enshrouding shadows, I murmured softly,
“I’ll be awaiting you in the piano room.”
With a fleeting acknowledgement, I exited the room, making my way to the adjacent chamber. Easing myself into a chair, I assumed a patient posture, anticipating her arrival.
In due course, the door swung open, and a gasp escaped from her lips, laden with recognition. “Artemy,” she breathed, her voice like a whispered benediction.
My eyelids fluttered shut at the sound, a manifestation of her utterance invoking a sense of sublime bliss. This moment, her uttering of my name, was something I had long yearned for.
As I reopened my eyes, Rebecca drew nearer, approaching me with graceful strides. Settling down on the ground between my legs, she inquired in hushed tones, “What has transpired?”
Her words were a gentle caress upon the air, but it was her gaze that spoke volumes. In her eyes, I discerned a profound empathy, as if she was attuned to my inner turmoil.
“Your pain is palpable,” she murmured, her eyes descending to my blood-stained hands.
She was not merely observing but sharing in my distress.
Her scrutinizing gaze lingered upon my countenance, a wince tugging at her features as she noted the contusions that marred my skin. “You’ve sustained injuries,” Rebecca remarked, her fingers enveloping my hands. Anxiousness tugged at her lips as her eyes wandered around the room.
I discerned her intent gaze.
“Our room holds the first aid kit, within the first drawer of the closet,” I disclosed under my breath. For an ephemeral moment, she met my gaze with an acknowledgment that passed like a swift current. Thereafter, she nodded.
Gracefully, she rose and exited the room.
Sighing softly, I closed my eyes, a surge of pride coursing through my veins. Her independence and determination evoked a surge of admiration within me.
Upon her return, I unveiled my eyes to behold her once again positioned between my legs. Rebecca meticulously explored the contents of the first aid kit, and I assisted her in procuring the antiseptic wipes and bandages.
Her gaze lowered to my hands, a furrow appearing between her brows. She met my eyes momentarily before refocusing on my battered knuckles.
With deliberate care, Rebecca commenced cleansing my wounds, her actions tender and deliberate. As the blood was gently wiped away, she exhaled a soft breath that brushed over my injured skin like a soothing breeze.
My gaze remained entranced by her form. Was she experiencing the same inexplicable connection? Did this moment hold a significant resonance for her as well?
Once the cleansing ritual concluded, she began to wrap my knuckles with bandages.
“Thank you, Angel,” I expressed with a sincerity that mirrored my feelings.
She nodded in response, her gaze lingering upon my bandaged hands, her confusion palpable.
After a prolonged silence, I broached the subject, “Does this scene appear familiar to you?”
Rebecca’s response was punctuated by a sharp nod. “This has transpired before, within this very room. Just as today, you bore my pain,” she revealed.
Her fingers trailed over the wrapped knuckles in a caressing manner. “Though you might have forgotten me, I retain our memories. I recall the symphony of us. You serenading me with the piano’s melody each night, me nestled upon your lap engrossed in a book. Amidst your work, my hair found solace in your hands. Beside the creek, we’d venture, your laughter mingling with the stream’s murmur. My heart fluttered with worry, fearing your stumble and fall.”
Emotion weighed down my voice as I recounted, “Your favored bloom is the white peony, yet the pink one holds its charm. Words hold allure for you, but dancing eludes our grasp. Nevertheless, we danced together. The cascade of your hair, unbound, held a captivation for me. Pasta graces your palate as a cherished delight. Chocolate, particularly white, finds favor, while its darker counterpart earns your disdain for its bitterness. When dawn beckons, I am compelled to rouse you, and my own dawn is incomplete without your morning kiss.”
Rebecca’s delicate eyelids fluttered closed, surrendering to the tender caress of my hand against her cheek. “In your words, I found solace – you, my anchor, my savior. An angelic presence that binds us into one. I only ask that you recall,” I expressed softly.
Amid a hushed tranquility, Rebecca maintained her silence, her countenance a canvas of serenity. After a passage of quiet reflection, I broke the stillness.
“Play for me, my Angel,” I beseeched.
Rebecca elevated herself, her gaze intertwining with mine in a fusion of green and blue. A sigh, tinged with resignation, slipped from her lips – a testament to the challenge of recollection. “I shall make the attempt,” she acquiesced.
Crossing the room, she approached the piano, and as she settled upon the bench, I advanced, positioning myself behind her. My hand came to rest upon her gently rounded abdomen.
As a vigorous kick pressed against my palm, a smile curved upon my lips. “Our little fighter is spirited, a cheerleader in his own right,” I observed playfully.
Rebecca’s fingers alighted upon the keyboard, and I stood poised, awaiting the melody that would emerge. A solitary note danced forth, followed by another, forming a delicate duet before subsiding into silence.
Two notes sufficed before surrendering to defeat. Her shoulders slumped in momentary frustration.
Unable to bear witness to the shadow upon her countenance, I leaned in, my voice a soothing murmur. “Take your time, Angel. We possess an abundance of it. When you’re ready, you’ll find your rhythm. I shan’t impose.”
Rebecca maintained her quietude, and I pressed a tender kiss to her cheek, my lips venturing toward her ear. And then, in a whisper, I unburdened my long-held sentiment.
Her frame stiffened, and I detected the quiver that trembled through her fingers.
A smile emerged upon my lips, a reflection of my burgeoning elation. The trail of a solitary tear etched a path down her cheek, and in that intimate moment, I brushed my lips against the tear’s glistening path, repeating the words.
“I cherish you, my dearest Angel.”
***
The words flowed effortlessly from my lips, carrying a blend of deep adoration and a lingering absence of remorse for the woman standing before me.
A mere year ago, the mere thought of uttering such words seemed unfathomable. Yet now, they had become an inescapable necessity, as if the very act of withholding them would deprive me of air itself.
A profound lightness enveloped my chest, offering a reprieve to my burdened heart. Since the wrenching loss of Rebecca, an insistent regret gnawed at me for never vocalizing these sentiments to her.
Perhaps it was a matter of unrecognized emotions-love, an emotion I had never truly acknowledged before. The capacity to cherish someone had eluded me until it was too late, stolen along with Rebecca’s presence.
She embodied an ethereal completeness, a truth I finally grasped but only after fate’s cruel separation. She was more than I had ever anticipated, and I was resolute in my commitment to honor her throughout our shared existence.
My fingers brushed Rebecca’s cheek, tracing the path of a single tear with the gentlest touch. As the tear descended, her breathing shifted, her cheeks tinted by a flush of exquisite vulnerability.
Rebecca squeezed her eyes shut, taking a steadying inhalation as if preparing for an inevitable reckoning. I stood poised, anticipating her response, yearning for her voice to break the anticipatory silence.
Yet, silence prevailed, leaving me with only my thoughts. Gently, I pressed a kiss to her cheek before reclining slightly, providing her the space to navigate her emotions. I was willing to wait, as long as it took.
Once Rebecca’s eyes reopened, they fixated on the grand piano, her fingers poised above the ivory keys. She engaged in a tender exploration, her touch exuding both fragility and determination. Furrowed brows signaled her deep concentration.
A note of frustration permeated the air, accompanied by pearls of sweat gathering on her forehead and neck. The sight of her struggle clenched my heart.
I enfolded her waist within my arms, raising her with a protective strength. Seating her on the piano bench, I accommodated her on my lap, a gesture met with a hesitant compliance. A profound sigh escaped her lips as she nestled into my chest, a reverie-like exhalation.
“Do you wish to recall?” I inquired, capturing her hands in mine. Rebecca’s nod, though subtle, carried a weight of yearning, her face still nestled against my chest.
My breath synced with hers as our fingers interlocked, a testament to the connection forming between us. “I yearn for your remembrance as well.”
A quietude descended, unlike any silence we had experienced before. This time, its presence felt uncomfortable, a void needing her voice to fill.
Gradually, Rebecca extricated her hands from mine, returning them to the piano keys. I inhaled sharply, as if the sound of the keys striking invoked a visceral response.
As her fingers engaged with the keys, a sequence of notes unfolded, gently resonating within the room. Her eyelids fluttered closed, a poignant expression of pain washing over her features.
A stifled sob reverberated, followed by her face burrowing back into my chest. She murmured softly, her words nearly indiscernible. “I can’t…”
Gently tilting her chin, I bestowed a tender kiss upon her lips. “Allow me to penetrate your heart, my Angel. Grant me the opportunity to unveil the beauty that exists beyond, and to love you as you rightfully deserve.”
Time appeared suspended as Rebecca raised her hands, hesitating momentarily before cradling my cheeks. A flicker of uncertainty crossed her features before she embraced the roughness of my skin.
Her caress held a mix of tenderness and pain, an unspoken language of its own. “I struggle to recollect, to unearth what’s lost within me.”
Her head rested upon my shoulder, her touch a constant reassurance. “The effort to remember leaves my mind aching.”
Rebecca’s fingers traced a path to my chest, her touch filled with a mixture of vulnerability and pain. “And it hurts here too. I don’t want to remember… because it hurts.”
Unconsciously, I had been holding my breath, and I felt my chest starting to ache. Striving to regain composure, though an unsettling turmoil raged within, I forced myself to relax.
An overwhelming surge of emotions flooded me-grief for what we had lost, the ache of regret, the sting of pain, and the warmth of love. I clung to her hand, pressing it against my chest, feeling the wild rhythm of my heart. “I’m in pain too, Angel,” I whispered, the words carrying the weight of my empathy. “Every time I see you in pain, it hurts.”
Her touch lingered on my cheek, and her voice trembled like leaves in the wind. “I… don’t want you to… hurt. I don’t like it.”
In that moment, I held her tighter, my chest heavy with sadness. Her words struck me deeply, as did the sorrow in her voice. She was hurting, yet her concern for me shone through.