life and its complications.

[putrefaction]

[It is a laundry day in someone else's mind.

He took extra steps to leave her alone to her task. She has quite a task ahead of her, and Nigel would only be in the way. Thus, he kept to cat naps, to shifting between waking and sleeping states.

Eventually, his throat demands a trip, and he emerges from his room with the intent to go to the kitchen. An intent that cuts short inches from his destination, when he catches sight of white-gold in the laundry room. Of skin he shouldn't be catching, a floral shape etched against the pale. White with a blue edge. Maybe. It's hard to tell with his sight.

Nigel halts, caught in an emotion unnamed. And as with all his awkward steps, he begins with words.]

A tattoo?

Comments

[purificatio]

[ There is irrelevancy catching in her mind. ]

You called me Alan.

[putrefaction]

[He blinks in confusion.]

...You prefer Alan?

[purificatio]

[ She is close, she realizes. Inches and heartbeats away. ]

From you. No one else. And only if you want.

[putrefaction]

[It's surprising, that answer. Enough to cause a shiver to shoot through his spine.]

If it's okay...

[purificatio]

[ She nods; this part isn't a discussion. The rest is. ]

You'll hurt me.

[ She confirms, to reply to his prior fear. ]

I'll hurt you. There will be misunderstandings. But, Nigel. I named myself.

[ I took control of myself. And my life. ]

And I let you name me. I'm willing to risk those misunderstandings.

[putrefaction]

[He's in a state close to shock. She has spoken more now than she ever has since her arrival.

She speaks of things that makes his innards clench tightly.]

Why? You can leave things as they are. Nothing would be lost.

[purificatio]

There would be.

[ She speaks when she needs to, so she can maintain silence when she does not. She needs to now. There's no thought of if she should speak. There is only what is. ]

I'd lose the chance of knowing you.

[putrefaction]

[Pain scrapes against his nerves, her words echo in his head, and pain invades his expression.

He looks as if he would cry.]

You don't... You shouldn't want to.

[purificatio]

[ She reaches to touch his hair. Gently, delicately; a wisp of motion. ]

I want to. I want you in my life.

[putrefaction]

[A hand falls to his hair, and he blinks. A tear slips from his eyes.]

I am in your life.

[purificatio]

[ He cries.

There is wet in his eyes, on his cheek, and she only thinks that his hair is soft. As much as his heart. He is bruised and battered, as much as she, and he refuses to understand the truth that represents.

She shifts upward, stretches her arms around his head, and leans to kiss his forehead. ]

You have to understand. [ She says in the simplest of tones. ] We're no longer alone.

[putrefaction]

[It's soft and nice and nothing bleak about her actions, her words, but they sting and burn and cause him to snap.

Even as he leans his head into the kiss, as he doesn't push her away.]

Of course, we're not alone. We're both here.

[purificatio]

Here.

[ She says, and does not relent. She presses a palm to his chest, to his heart and holds it between them. ]

I'm here.

[putrefaction]

[Her hand presses against his chest, against his beating heart, and he cannot help but touch her hand with his. Even as his heart quickens its beats.]

But this...

[This damnable organ in his chest. This thing growing between them.]

This isn't simple.

[purificatio]

Mm-mmm.

[ A disagreement. An agreement. It is never easy to say. She leans her small body into him, nuzzles the top of his head. This is new. Nice and new. She wants to stay here. ]

It's not simple. But it's us.

[putrefaction]

[She's closer than ever and speaks of, ironically, a simple thing. It resonates with the parts and pieces with him, and Nigel is frozen. He feels heat rise within his entire body.

This is new. Frighteningly new, and he wants to stay here.

But he has to breathe. To live. He begins to loosen his hand, allowing it to drop down to his side. He wonders how to separate them without offending her and comes up with nothing.

So he stays, unmoving. Silent.]

[purificatio]

[ The shift is felt, and she thinks he is obvious. She wonders how he doesn't know that.

She doesn't move. But she speaks. ]

You want to stay here. Stop trying to deny yourself.

[putrefaction]

[The response is automatic, despite whatever level of control is left to him.]

But it hurts.

[Is the murmur.]

[purificatio]

[ She slips backward at that, moves to look at him. Then leans her arms on his thighs to look upward. ]

Then show me how to help you. To not hurt you.

[putrefaction]

[He pauses at this, at the short distance. At the ways he could regulate and not make things harder for her.]

Could we talk about something else? Anything?

[A shuddered inhale.]

I just want to calm down.

[purificatio]

[ There is no missed beat or change of expression. ]

That line was awful.

[ The ice cream that never happened. ]

There was no way I wanted to stand with that many people.

[putrefaction]

[...Yes. Yes, that. That's so much better. He looks noticeably relieved.]

It was as if they had nowhere better to be.

[purificatio]

We should just have ice cream here.

[ But they are lazy and cheap. ]

I should learn how to make ice cream.

[putrefaction]

Isn't that more effort?

[It requires churning, from what he's been told.]

[purificatio]

[ Mmm, churning. ]

Efffffort.