♙/ ♦
♙ — sharing a bed.
They’d been at an event (philanthropic, organized by his mother; they’d had to stay until the very end to placate her) for far too long. At the end of the evening, the simple fact of the matter is that Theo’s apartment is two blocks away from the venue. Anna’s is fifteen. And so they make their way to his place, arm in arm, eyes drooping as they slump against each other in the elevator.
Too tired to do much more than stumble into pajamas, he slides under the covers only moments after Anna. Theo’s large form tends to take up far too much space in his bed; this isn’t a new revelation, but it does certainly become a more pressing issue when he’s not the only occupant. With Anna, though, he doesn’t mind. Her presence is comforting.
The room is lit by little more than moonlight; he can barely see the shine of her eyes, but he offers her a tired smile nonetheless. He’s certain she’ll know he’s doing it.
Suddenly, he’s aware that this could be their life. Going to events, stumbling home, falling into the same bed for the rest of their lives. If he ends up being the coward he’s always known himself to be, he could propose, make this a reality. Forever. ‘Til death do they part. The gravity of the idea hits him like a truck, but he swallows it down before he can think about it for too long. He doesn’t know if he can stomach a lifetime of lying to someone he’s come to cherish this much.
“Thank you for coming tonight,” he murmurs, voice hazy with sleep. “I know my mom can be a nightmare, but she’s happy we came. She told me it was so nice to see you.” He takes her hand, lacing their fingers together loosely to bridge the small gap between them. With a light squeeze, he ends his ramble, yawning quietly. “G’night, Anna.”
Before he drifts off, he feels her gently squeeze his hand in return, her soft “Good night, Theo” little more than a whisper.
♦ — slow dancing.
He can’t help himself; when the song changes from upbeat to slow and tender, he smiles. It’s mostly to himself, not for anyone but him and Anna to see. “Dance with me?” he asks, half-teasing, as if they haven’t been dancing at this gala for the past ten minutes already.
They’re a beautiful couple. He knows that much — he’d be silly not to understand how stunning Anna is. In public, at the sort of events often required of people of their station, they make quite the pair. Anna is forever breathtaking in her evening wear; Theo, never one to be left behind, cuts a striking figure in his tuxedo. Eyes are on them as they sway across the dance floor, but Theo ignores the attention. This moment belongs to him and Anna alone. It’s theirs.
For once, he allows himself to settle into quiet acceptance. He cherishes the slight warmth of Anna’s body against his, the smell of her shampoo filling his senses as he presses a feather-light kiss to her hairline. He’s content. That’s enough, isn’t it? Companionship? It’s a lie, and he knows it, but he’d be hard pressed to find someone as gentle and sweet as Anna. She understands him in a way most people don’t, and that’s everything to him. How much more can he ask for without getting hurt?
In another life, he thinks, her hand warm and soft in his as they turn slowly. In another life, we could be happy. This could be enough.
