His, Eternally [18+]

Chapter Twenty-One: The Sun & The Moon

Indie's Point of View:

        I read often as a small child, loving mystical books about fairytales and mermaids and vampires and those who differ from me. When I reached high school, sophomore year, specifically, one story spoke to me deeply. It regarded the celestial matters of our earth; to put it simply. The sun gave the earth warmth, nourishment and happiness amongst all who lived under it. However, the sun was unhappy. He felt alone, living in solidarity amongst those who rejoiced in his presence. He was alone in the empty blanket of a sky, only to view happiness and tranquility underneath him. I recall the story saying something alone the lines of, "there was a price he paid for being the brightest." One day, as he shone his light on the world, he spotted a woman with a beauty that was so entrancing and luring. He was unable to stop himself from looking at her, whilst others celebrated his rising after a long night. Every night, she rose to the skies, illuminating the darkness that covered the once baby blue sky — for she was the moon. I continued to read it, one section sticking to me like hot glue. "Her radiance was a sad kind of beauty, one that went unnoticed as the people slept. The Stars watched her with woefulness, hoping that one day they could get close enough so she wouldn't feel so empty. But they couldn't. The Moon was untouchable, surrounding herself with a blanket of darkness through the cold nights." From then on, as cheesy as it sounds, I felt like the moon. That is why I loved the nighttime so much, because each night she rose, unnoticed by those yet so powerful and needed. As the sun began to fall in love with the moon, he let her rise in peace. For the sun loved the moon so much, he died every night to let her breathe. She continued to stay unnoticed, even whilst she began to fall harder in love with the sun. They lived in solidarity, and that hadn't changed. They were unnoticed.

I was unable to keep my mind from thinking of this poem as me and Thaddeus' stared at the moon above us, shining faintly through my window. His strong features were evident under the light, his jaw cut strongly and his face carved like a diamond. However, although I was distracted by his beauty, I couldn't help but compare the werewolves and I to the sun and the moon — unnoticed, alone, indiscretion. "You like the stars, little one?" His deep voice brought me out of my trance.

"I do, they're very bright here. In Delaware, I could hardly see them — it was often foggy. Now, I can see them though. They are stunning. It's wild to think that they are all thousands upon thousands of light years old. Something so wondrous has been around since the beginning of time, it's incredible." I smiled softly, resting my chin on my knees.

"They are beautiful, little one."

I nodded, my thoughts consuming me again as I struggled to keep myself from looking at him. Not as beautiful as you, I thought to myself. The birds chirped in the night, echoing through the open windows as they began to settle in for the night. "Do you want some coffee? I'm gonna make some." I said, standing up from my bed. I groaned as I felt my joints pop, my legs feeling like pins and needles were running across them after being asleep for so long. "Coffee? It is late, little one." I blushed, pulling my oversized hoodie down so it covered my bum and touched my mid thigh.

"Coffee doesn't get me awake. I have plenty of it every night, I'm a college student." I laughed. A part of me felt weak at the knees, he seemed so concerned by me simply wanting to drink coffee at this time of night. He smiled lightly, his eyes darkening as he looked at my legs in the darkness that were only visible because of the small candle that was lit on my bedside table. I coughed awkwardly, pulling it down a bit more before walking to the kitchen and starting a pot of black coffee. I hummed as I waited for it to finish brewing, tapping my foot against the ground. My kitchen was filled with the scent of rich coffee, as I pulled out a yellow mug and poured it in. Steam rose from the cup, as I quickly blew on it returning to my room. I moved quicker than usual, yearning to be under the covers so he wouldn't look at me the way he did with my legs even slightly bare.

"Tell me about your life in Delaware, Indie. I'm intrigued." I sipped down some of my coffee, wanting to hum in approval as the warmth enveloped my body. I grimaced slightly, but as soon as I did his face fell. "Oh, no, it's okay. I just don't know if you want to here my soap opera of a life as a teenager growing up." I laughed, feeling my face ignite with fire.

"I want to know you, Indie. The good, the bad, everything in between. If you are comfortable with sharing, that is." His words made my heart flutter and lurch all at the same time. I suddenly felt my heart open up, like he had finally picked a padlock that was so securely shut. I had never even thought about telling someone of my life — after all, I couldn't be honest about who I was, and what I could do. I had never talked about my feelings, not even with my adoptive parents. Although they loved and protected me, I still felt closed off to them.

"Okay, where to begin..." I looked at him, meeting his gaze. His eyes were intent, holding onto every last word I said. "I'm adopted. Let's start there. My parents names are Janis and James; they took me in in their mid-fifties, because they wanted a little girl so badly. My birth mother was a junkie, to say the least. I don't know her name, and I don't know if I really want to. I feel as if maybe she was like me, maybe being able to read minds. I don't think though, however, that she was able to handle raising a child in a world that she knew I was going to be so isolated. Or, maybe my father was like me, but my father left her to fend for herself. She was alone, and I pity her for that. I think I was born when she was around sixteen or seventeen, and she was living on the streets — unable to face her addiction." I said breathlessly. It felt so odd to be saying this out loud, and a slight discomfort rose in my chest. But, I felt like I could trust him; trust him with my entire life — which is why the words keep tumbling out of my mouth.

"Janis and James knew about me, about the telepathy, from a very young age. We talked about it once, when I had reached middle school. After that, it was as if the conversation had never happened. We never brought it up again. A part of me feels like they felt hopeless, out of the control in the situation — unable to help or empathize with me. Middle school was especially hard, everyone started to hit puberty and things got weird, like, really fast." I laughed, remembering how stunned the younger me was by the sexual things prepubescent boys had thought about me. "It was a rough time, to say the least. That's when I began to resent my 'gift', per-say. I didn't really have friends, you know?" My voice cracked faintly. "It was all so complicated. Everything around me felt so fucking loud, all of the time. I knew what everyone was thinking about me, all the time. The clothes I wore, the way I did my hair — it was really overwhelming." His eyes were still glued to me, listening carefully. I didn't look at his face, afraid to see pity cross his expressions.

"James and Janis gave me all they could, and for that, I'm so thankful. Hell, I'm surprised they didn't send me back to foster care after they discovered my gift." I laughed dryly, playing with the bracelet that lay on my wrist. "I finished high-school, the same state as I had always been in — isolated, secluded from others. I guess it was my fault, I was terrified of relationships, terrified of human connection. But, I mean, who can blame me?" I sighed, an uncomfortable lump building in my throat.

"James and Janis passed away, and I grieved over them miserably. Although I never felt a particularly deep connection to them, I loved them — and I knew they loved me, deeply." Don't fucking cry, Indie, I thought to myself, blinking aggressively to try and ignore the pain of thinking of my childhood leading to this point. Deep down, I felt like something in me had released all of the negative energy I had been keeping locked away for so long. It felt like the weight of the world on my shoulders had lessened immensely.

As I tried to distract myself with happier thoughts to diminish the urge to cry, I felt a warm hand grasp mine tightly. Sparks shot up through my arm, making me jump slightly before I relaxed under his soft touch. His fingers were calloused and rough, yet soft at the same time. He held my small hand in both of his, sliding the chair hesitantly closer to my bedside. I felt the warmth radiating from his body, as he continued to stare at me intently.

The thoughts that had been eating me alive for so many years had finally been let out.

~~~
reference of poem/story found here:
https://www.google.com/amp/s/toddsmidt.wordpress.com/2014/07/31/the-sun-and-the-moon/amp/
(author is unknown, but read it. it's beautiful:))