~~~~~
When she came home that night, she was tired.
She said nothing as her bag full of paints, sketch pads, pencils and other various supplies slipped from her shoulders and fell with a loud clunk to the floor. She merely gave him a small unconvincing smile at his inquiry about her art class and trudged off toward the bathroom.
He was hesitant to follow, knowing that sometimes she needed some space when she felt exhaustion like this, but his primal need to comfort her drove him to follow her quietly.
He leaned against the door frame, his arms folded as he heard her banging around in the bathroom.
He called out her name softly, gently, and she paused, her back to him.
A few moments passed until she turned to him, sadness and frustration coloring her features.
He moved to her, placing his arms around her stiff form. Immediately she began to relax into him, seemingly without being cognizant of having done so.
He asked her what was wrong, and she shook her head against his chest, as if attempting to maintain the wall she had so carefully built to keep her composure.
He understood that words were not her strong suit sometimes, especially when it came to the things that mattered most to her. Like her art. Like him. He also knew that words would come in time, but for now she needed only his presence.
He stood there quietly and held her, his hands traveling their endless comforting paths across the contours of her back. After a time, she drew back from him, offering a small smile as if thanking him for his simple kindness. She spoke a few tired, lifeless words, saying she needed to get some sleep before work the next day. He merely nodded, knowing that tonight words would be forced, harsh, unmeaning.
Apart from the noise of the running water splashing into the sink, and the clunk of the dresser drawers opening and closing, their bedtime rituals were filled with endless silence. He knew his wife; that she needed to be alone with her own thoughts tonight; that the only thing she needed from him was just to be a still, strong, comforting presence surrounding her.
As they climbed into bed, she turned her back to him, facing the opposite wall as if hiding from everything that might be found in his eyes tonight. With his head propped up on his elbow, he stroked her hair gently with his free hand, letting the soft curls fall around her shoulders. He heard her sigh softly, releasing some of her tension. He continued the patterned movements, attempting to soothe her racing mind and beating heart.
In time he heard her breathing become deeper, slower as she drifted to sleep. He hadn’t noticed the deep furrow on her brow until it released its grip on her forehead. The tension drained slowly from her face, like water flowing slowly from a pitcher. She began to look peaceful, serene.
He smiled lightly to himself. She was beautiful when she slept. When the worries of the world could not touch her, and peace surrounded her, enveloping her completely; he loved to watch her sleep.
He felt his own eyes grow heavy. There would be time to talk tomorrow. Tonight she needed to feel, words would come in time.
His hand traced a path down her arm to embrace her and hold her close through the night. She shifted slightly in her sleep, unconsciously welcoming his familiar touch at her waist, allowing him to envelope her completely in his comfortable protection.
He fell asleep with the scent of her hair surrounding him, the feel of her small frame pressed close to his own.
Sweet sleep paralyzed their worries and fears, while dreams of color and light created peaceful serenity within them.
~~~~~
Story Notes:
Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.
Chapter End Notes:
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