Before he switched the lights on, he turned back and held my arms and told me this in his soft voice;
"You are going to watch how all the mess of this world can get collected in this small space of what I call my room."
There was a brief pause. I felt the ambience and imagined how would everything look like under the lights.
Since the last nineteen years of my life, I grew up in a room which me and my mother shared. I did not know if Ian meant the mess to be some crumbled blanket or unorganized pillows. Maybe a dusty rug laid by the wall, but I had seen some real shambles in my house.
Maybe everyone is afraid of showing his mess to others, because at some point in our lives someone walks in and tells us that we are nothing more than a disarray. And then people start to grow afraid of everyone, thinking that all of the world's mess is nowhere else but around them.
I lifted myself on my toes to reach up to his ears and in a softer voice than his, I said.
"Why don't we leap across the seeing part then?"
He slid his palms all the way until my shoulder's curves and said.
I realized we were playing and I told myself that I wanted it. I felt contented by his palms rubbed against my body.
"We let the lights turned off."
He held my hand and three steps later we were on his bed. He told me that he likes pink bedsheets. I guessed he had one. I never knew.
A ray of light traversed through the window across the bed. It fell on the floor and gave us the spot to lay our eyes upon. There was nothing but the dark yet it felt more brightened than it had to be.
Ian did not say anything for a long time. He just twirled his finger on the back of my hand. On and on. And for a while, I forgot that I belonged to some other world. Because it felt light, and complete.
Maybe it's not always that the wholeness lies in finding, Sometimes, it's about forgetting. And I wanted to forget the most of what I remembered for a while.
I wanted my ribs and all that to fall down, dearth of which would not harm the last of my existence. And I wanted that tiny thing, which absolutely comprised me to get absorbed in him. I felt stuck in somewhere I did not belong to.
I closed my eyes and holding his hand I fell on my back. He followed. His bed was soft.
"Do you feel good?"
He murmered with the slightest of his breath.
I let it escape myself.
"Do you believe in souls, cheryl?"
He whispered, turning towards me. His arm formed the only distance between us. I let go of his hand and reached out mine to his other hand. He overlapped his on mine. I could see his eyes in the little moonlight and our palms touching each other, and the absence of light in between them. He felt closer.
"Maybe, I like the idea of it. Its idea is more important than the argument of its being."
"And what is the idea?"
He muttered and budged in a little bit more. Our noses touching. I liked it, as we talked his breaths hit me on my lips. He did not smell of the food we had eaten an our ago. He smelled of himself. His eyes sparkling.
I whispered back.
"The idea is that people believe in their little, safe forever. The belief that sometimes, people go somewhere we can't get to and that there is still a line which connects them. The idea that makes us believe that going does not always mean leaving."
I let his hand go, he tucked back my hair behind my ear. And placed it back around me, encircling my ribcage.
"I am afraid, that I won't be knowing enough. And of the fact that every time someone goes, they leave a trail, a large rope with thousands of thorns ripping through the skin of your heart, skimming the layers up unless you realize that the only thing a forever comes with, is pain."
I knew it, I knew it from always. Things about pain. And then still there always had been a void for the oblivion, a pain. Something I did not know about. And he was afraid of it too. Everyone is afraid that they won't ever be knowing what much there is.
I felt my skin dissipating, layer by layer in between us. Defeating the very purpose of its being. I did not want to fight, I did not care enough. I wanted to go naked. The kind when you shed off the encrusted layers one after other and in the end you find yourself to be someone else. Someone, who could breathe more air in the lungs and return back all the love back to universe.
I leaned in towards him and the light stopped going through us. I could feel his sternum on my breasts. His ribs going up and down and his heart beating after mine.
I reached to his ear.
"It's important to go, and there is a certain pain that follows. But what would be the staying worth if it were not the pains of leaving."
I bent back and my lips were on his cheek. I left them there for him to decide. He combed my hair from behind my neck with his fingers and pulled back his head so that my lips were touching his.
He leaned forward, I opened my mouth and my lower lip was in between his lips. We were drowning, and we did not know to swim, and yet we were there to save each other.
He was gentle, tasting like the most tender skin. Travelling inside my spaces, and I gave him the most I had ever had in the moment that elapsed.
We were breathing again. He looked at me and we smiled. "You shall come back."
His mother called in after a while from the kitchen, inviting us for food.
I stood up, held his hand and kissed his palm. We left the room.