Berujean Week Day 4 - Falling
remember the first berujean week that’s almost exactly an entire year ago? the one that happened about 365 days in the past? yeah well, i’m finally posting something for the last prompt i had to do. this has actually been in my drafts for about a year as well, but it’s very.. different from what i normally do so i was very unsure about it. however, the berujean tag has been way too inactive lately so i decided to say what the heck and just post it. enjoy, i guess
You are lying on the bed, long limbs curled up, your face half hidden in the pillow you’re holding. Sometimes you can look so small. I’m always surprised by that.
Your eyes are shut, but I know you’re awake because you never lie this still when you’re asleep.
“Jean,” you mumble, and I hum in response, tracing my fingers along your spine. You shuffle a bit, trying to get rid of the tickling feeling.
“Do you ever think about-,” you start, but then you fall quiet again. It’s how I know you’re about to say something personal. You always get insecure when you talk about personal things.
I drop my hand on the bed and fold my legs, waiting for you to regain your courage. It doesn’t take you very long anymore. We’ve been together like this for a while now.
“Do you ever think about birds?” You finally ask, and this is not at all what I expected you to say.
“What?” I say, and you turn your head further into the pillow. Your neck is red, so I know you’re blushing anyway.
I let out my breath through my nose, unfold my legs so I can lie in front of you on the bed. It’s a little awkward, but it fits. Sort of.
“Bertl,” I mutter when you keep hiding. “What do you mean?”
I manage to unclasp your hand from the pillow, and I play with your fingers for a while. They’re long and slender, like everything about you. It makes it easy to forget how strong you are.
“It’s silly,” you finally speak, and carefully peek at me from under your eyelashes.
“I’m sure it isn’t,” I respond, and lace my fingers through yours. I watch as you bite your lip, knowing I won’t have to wait long until you’ll speak again.
“I just. Sometimes I think about how different it must be,” you whisper, squeezing my fingers but not looking at me. “Having wings,” you add. “We can climb trees or stand on top of buildings, but it’s different. You can always fall down.”
I frown, not sure what you’re trying to say.
“Birds never worry about falling.”
It’s quiet for a long time, because I’m not sure what to say to you, what you expect me to answer. You turn your head back into the pillow, looking as if you want to crawl into the mattress and not come back. I squeeze your hand when you try to pull it back from me. I’m hoping you understand I’m quiet because I’m trying to think about my words before speaking - something that has never really been my strong suit.
“Does that mean you worry a lot about falling?” I eventually settle on asking. It’s quiet again, until you turn on your side (I’m glad you finally look at me again, you’re so insecure sometimes). “Maybe,” you mutter in response. I want to fold my body around you, make you feel a little more safe. I don’t.
“We’re so fragile,” you whisper, looking at me. I can see the worry in your eyes, in the wrinkles on your forehead. I’m not sure what suddenly caused you to think about this , or if it’s something you’ve been thinking about for a while but were too afraid to voice until now.
“Armin told me birds have hollow bones,” I tell you, rubbing my thumb across the back of your hand. “So they can stay in the air.”
I crawl over the mattress until I’m next to you again, and we’re lying face to face.
“We’re not that fragile,” I insist, bumping my shoulder against your chest. It probably isn’t enough to make you forget whatever has you worried like this, but you seem to relax and show me a small smile, and that’s enough for now.
