Ignite

Rethreading These Broken Seams

Rain was coming back home in a few hours.

The crematorium called Lance to let him know that she would be dropped off later in the day. In preparation for her arrival, one of the shelves on the living room's bookcase had been cleared. A space in the center was left open for her urn. To the left, there was a small orange pillow with one of her collars lying on top of it. To the right, two pictures stood beside each other.

One of them depicted the feline as she was in her prime.

There wasn't a speck of gray to be seen in Rain's fur or eyes. Her body was half in the air as she had been jumping to grab a fake mouse toy connected to a plastic rod.

The second photograph was recent.

Thin fur showed patches of light pink skin. Murky eyes were closed. Half of a tiny face was hidden behind both paws and the fluffy end of her long tail. Even with her most defining features being shielded, a little smile could be seen as clear as day.

Lance's gaze lingered on that picture as he dusted some of the other shelves.

Partial attention was on the monotonous humming that came from the central air conditioning. He also listened out for any lingering sounds; something to alert him about a certain someone who was still sleeping down the hall.

It was strange to be up and about before Alessandro.

He was usually the one to initiate breakfast, cleaning, or some other menial task to get the day started. Slight fatigue was routinely cured by a cup of coffee with a splash of French vanilla creamer. Stagnant silence would be overrun by quiet singing alongside a swift pull of the vacuum, or sizzling from one of many nonstick pans. Whatever happened afterwards was always up in the air, but Alessandro usually completed his morning tasks before Lance fully dragged himself out of bed.

It was already two p.m., and dusting in the living room was the only sign of life within the entire household.

Considering the intense disaster that was the night before, it wasn't farfetched to believe that Alessandro's extended sleep was his body's way of getting him to finally slow down.

Too many feelings had been brought into the light at once. Feelings that were continuously pushed down until they erupted.

It was a frightening spectacle to witness. Uncontrollable, too.

On top of everything though, the entire scenario explained a lot more than was actually stated.

The assault didn't just rob Alessandro of his confidence. It robbed him of a multitude of facets he depended on: a positive idea of self worth, comfort, a sense of safety, the ability to fully rely on other people. For years, he tried to patch up his inner wounds with peeling, blood stained bandages.

Now that those coverings had finally fallen off, painful injuries could be given a chance to breathe for once.

It was still going to hurt for awhile. It was still going to be unpleasant. Lance knew certain issues wouldn't just fix themselves over night. This could take months; maybe even several more years to get past.

But there was at least a chance to start honestly mending. A chance to start healing.

Bluish gray eyes surveyed a slightly ajar door at the other end of the house. Shuffling of bed sheets could be heard.

Nodding to himself, Lance set down the duster by leaning the utensil against the entertainment center. He walked over to the kitchen counter and grabbed a certain bottle of medication, clutching them tightly in his hand. The capsules inside clinked against each other with every step taken toward the bedroom.