Sleeping Peaceful

Sleeping Peaceful

part one

It was a sour day. The fog drifted in, and the rain poured down from the skies like tears of a scorned lover. No birds sang, no animals made noise, no voices were heard, but the lonely voice of the sea.

What hidden treasures, lost hopes, fallen dreams, and scorned truths the ocean held that day, I'll never know. May be it was that to love is to live, but to lose hope is to die. That all life is dependent on hope, all joy exists for the sheer reason of fulfilling the terms of hope, of reaching dreams. Because with out placing faith, and hope, in anything, there is no love, nor is there life.

I remember waking, cold. I was hungry and naked. I needed shelter from the elements. And the waves crashed around my body, causing my eyes to tear up with pain. As I opened my eyes, I saw you.

You seemed like an angel. You were taller then I remembered you being, like a pale, guiding angel. I gazed up in awe, seeing you, and seeing how the wind and rain played with your hair, imagining that I was the one who's fingers tousled your hair.

You were smirking at me. You said, "What now Potter? On the beach, in the nude, and no one to protect you? Shocking, how the hero of our world is dependent on his rivals to live, to stay clothed even."

You had a vague bitterness in your voice. And more of my memory came back to me. Memories of cold stones and broken bones. fragments like shards of glass or crystal, which tore at my soul like thousands of tiny daggers.

You had hated me. You had despised me. The angel standing before me was a devil, a being who's soul purpose in life was to make mockery of my own. I had held you in a strong dislike since age eleven. You were the bad egg in a brightly coloured shell.

Tears came to my eyes. I wept, because I didn't want my visions of you as pure to leave. I wanted you to love me. To hold me near to you. I wanted to push my cares aside, stop trying to be the hero, to be the bravest, to be the one who saves the day. And to start being myself. At the age of twenty, I was still a scared little boy, tiered, alone. And desperately trying to be the boy I thought I would be at the age of eleven.

You smirked at me for a few moments. Then, I don't know what it was, maybe pity, made you lean down and offer your hand to help me up. I stared at your hand for a few moments, then placed my trembling hand in yours I was scared beyond belief. But I placed my trust in you. You, the one who has loathed me since I turned you down at the age of eleven. You lifted me up, and took me home with you.

I stood dripping in your front hall. you lent me your cloak, so I was no longer nude. You ushered me into your dining hall, and fed me, and I was no longer hungry. You, my bitter rival, washed and tended my wounds. And you made me thankful that it was you, and no other, that did this.

You set me down to sleep in a well furnished room, and I fancy you brushed your lips to mine as I drifted off to sleep.

My sleep was not a restful one. it was one full of pain, and horror. I cried out as I slept, and at times I would cry out so loudly that I would wake, to find you holding me to your chest. You would rock me, and you would whisper, "Don't cry, don't cry, it'll be okay, it's over." And I would slip back into my nightmares, some what calmed by the thought that you were holding me. In those first few days, I would cry out often, and always, when I woke, I would find you holding me safe to your body.

As time went on, things became less out of my needs, and more our joint wants. You would lay down with me while I slept, and you held me waking as well as sleeping. You never hurt my body, and then only way you hurt me at all was through emotion.

You showed me a feeling I never knew existed. You cared for me while I was ill, and continued to care as I grew well. Never were you inconsistent. Your feelings were as great at my times of need as they were when I did not need.

The first time our lips touched while I was awake, I was faintly startled, but some how, your lips were already familiar. They were like heaven, or some fruit of paradise, and I felt exalted. It was pure, and it was true. We were so close, I could feel both our pulses quicken.

Afterward, we remained silent for a few moments, digesting what it was we were feeling at that moment. Our foreheads touched, and we sought for breath. There was an uneasy easy silence. Then our lips collided again, and our bodies made them selves entwined.

That night, as we lay exhausted in each other's arms, I just lay staring at your beautiful face. The arrogant arch of your nose, the way your eye lashes were long and like spun thistle down. In fact, your whole being reminded me of thistle down. You created an emotional barrier all these years, and your emotions, or rather your talent of masking them, became like a constant set of clothes for you. Like the prickles on a thistle. But once you opened up, and you allowed your self to love, the down that you protected so ardently being came accessible to me.

And you slept. your sleep was so peaceful, you looked like a new born Child, innocent, unknowing, and trusting your life to the one holding you. I kissed your brow and thanked what ever god that might exist for causing me this much pain.