but I’m a fire and I’ll keep your brittle heart warm | warnette
Juliette has trouble sleeping. Set after believe me.
I’ve been looking at the clock for forty minutes. I realize I’m falling back into old habits, counting minutes and counting seconds and counting tick tick tick tick’s.
I stop myself before I spiral further into my own thoughts. I am not in the asylum. I am not in Oceania. I am safe I am safe I am safe.
I am sleeping next to my husband. This is the thought that keeps my heart from crawling to my throat.
Still, I am awake and he is not. It was a long day for both of us, but especially for Aaron. He works himself too hard. I guess old habits die hard, but we’re both working on it.
I crawl out of bed, careful as to not wake Aaron. I pull on one of his robes. It’s too big on me, but his warmth and scent keep me safe as I go down the stairs. We have lived in our house for a few weeks now, but I’m still getting used to getting so much space for ourselves. It hasn’t been easy, fixing a house that was left for ruin, but it’s ours, so I love it.
One of the steps creaks loudly beneath my feet. I sigh. We need to fix that.
Today it was the doors that needed fixing. They were about to come off their hinges, and after a mishap in which my finger got caught on one of the doors, Aaron insisted that they needed immediate attention. It’s hard work, but I wouldn’t change it for the world. Knowing that every hinge on every door has been meticulously inspected by my husband to keep us safe makes this house the best in the market.
I quickly find my way to our small kitchen. I can still smell the roasted chicken we made for dinner. Neither Aaron or I had much experience cooking, but luckily, one of our neighbors was more than happy to help. That neighbor was Kenji. Aaron pretended to be annoyed, but I could tell he was grateful for our friend’s help.
I start to boil some water on our barely-functioning stove. My tea won’t be very hot, but I’m hoping it’ll help with my insomnia.
I sit on the kitchen island facing the stove and wait in the darkness. Bring my knees to my chest and hug them to distract myself from the cold.
I’m about to jump down from the counter to get one of my mugs when the light flickers on. I don’t flinch, though. I know exactly who it is.
He sits next to me on the counter and rests his chin on top of my head. Presses a few kisses to my hair. “Sweetheart.” His voice is tired.
He puts one of his arms around my waist. “No, love, you didn’t wake me. I was just worried when I woke to an empty bed.”
I rest my head in his shoulder. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. Were you making tea?”
He hops off the counter and looks for a mug. He chooses a light pink one that’s slightly cracked. It’s my favorite.
He’s usually up in the morning before I am, so he knows how I like my tea. He hands me my mug. “Here, love.” He brushes a few strands of hair that came loose from my ponytail away from my face.
I bring the lightly steaming cup to my lips and swallow. “Thank you, Aaron.”
His lips flicker to form the smallest and sweetest smile. “I’ll happily make your tea every day until we’re eighty.”
“I hope you do. And I’ll keep stealing your robes.”
His smile widens. “I love seeing you in my clothes, so I don’t think that will be a problem.”
I place a quick kiss on his cheek before finishing my tea. “Let’s go to bed, then.”
He places one arm under my knees and the other one behind my back, and carries me away before I can start protesting.
Our tired laughs make their way up our bedroom and well into the rest of the night.
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