She’s never felt this before.
This space that isn’t lack. Looseness between skin and self, like she’s slowly cohering. Empty of real thoughts, just the quiet hum of sensation: slept-in sheets, warm bed, and—someone else. A body near hers.
Lili shifts, hearing the rustle of her hair against the pillow. It’s barely morning; rain patters soft against the windows, and beside her, Aleksandr is watching her.
“Hi,” she breathes—or rather, tries to.
Hoarse in her throat, her voice gives out.
As she starts coughing, the bed shifts. A cold glass presses into her hand, and Aleksandr props her up enough to gulp down water.
“Thank you,” she whispers after she drinks, passing it back to him.
“Are you—how are you?” he asks, settling beside her. He’s left space between them.
Nestling closer, Lili leans her forehead against his chest—sighs, as she rests her palm on his bare skin, the soothing heat of his body a weight into her bones like sleep.
“I’m okay,” she murmurs. And it’s true; truer than she’d have thought. There’s too much of a mess inside of her, still half-asleep, to look deeper.
“What do you need? More water?”
“I’m alright.” And she is, shakily so—she just wants to stay here, curled against him, letting the aches in her body subside in the gray storm.
“Are you hungry? Food? A bath, anything?”
“Really, I’m fine.”
“Lili.” It’s a rough sigh. She looks up at him. “Just—just let me take care of you.”
His focus is intent on her. He looks exhausted, concern uneased by sleep and at odds with the strange, dislocated peace she feels. Like he’s bracing for something.
“Okay,” Lili whispers.
Relief washes over his face.
“What do you need?” he asks again.
“Can we... can we just stay here?” she asks. “For a bit?”
A pause, before: “Of course.”
Lili relaxes. She breathes slowly as his steady pulse thuds under her palm.
After a moment, Aleksandr gently touches her neck. Her throat feels raw. From being choked, but also from tears; how hard she cried last night. Some shame prickles inside her.
“Sorry for, um—crying yesterday.”
“Are you joking?” he breathes. “Lili, last night—”
“Don’t,” she interrupts. “Don’t, last night was...” She doesn’t want to finish the thought, ruin the spell. The idea that this feeling—subspace?—is fleeting.I got pushed as far as I asked, and I’m not entirely sure what I found inside myself.“Just don’t.”
Guarded, his gaze follows the cautious brush of his fingers against her throat, hesitantly touching the faint weight of bruises. Shadows clarify of both straining towards and struggling against the same body she’s curled into now, and she wonders, is it wrong to find comfort here? But there’s this sense—clear, like release that’s finally arrived; half-spoken, just daring to reveal itself, complex and possibly problematic—the sense that she might have survived something, past what she thought endurable.
Not him, but herself.
Is this all you want from me?
Lili takes a breath. “That’s not all I want from you,” she whispers.
