16. Chapter 16 #3
“…I…I really don’t feel like cooking,” I admitted quietly.
We ended up ordering a pizza. An extra-large, extra greasy, pepperoni pizza, 2 liters of soda, and a side of cheesy bread. Summoner grimaced but it ate anyway.
Afterward, we curled up together and watched murder shows.
I could never quite figure it out, but there was something reassuring about true crime.
Something to be solved. I only cried once.
Summoner steadied his arm around me as I wept.
Once I finished crying, we settled back into more episodes before bed.
Changed into my pajamas, I laid in bed, drumming my fingers on my ribcage.
My heart rate jumped as I heard the shower turn off.
Summoner emerged from the bathroom with a towel on his head.
I smiled as he brushed the fabric over his hair before dropping it to his shoulders.
He had changed in the bathroom, into a pair of black sleep pants and a white t-shirt.
The white cotton fabric clung to his still-damp skin mercilessly.
Depression aside, I could appreciate Summoner for his literal body of work.
I smiled to myself as he pulled back the covers and slid into bed beside me.
“Can we cuddle?” I asked.
He rolled his eyes as if the question was ridiculous. “Always.”
I was instantly the little spoon as he wrapped his arms around me and pulled me close.
My back pressed against the hard wall of his chest. Being cradled by his arms was safety.
I sighed out my nose as my hand ran down his arm.
Tendons, muscles, bones, veins, skin, prickly hair…
I was enraptured. Summoner laughed as, again and again, my fingertips explored the expanse of his arms. My fingers grazed along his wrist, giving pause.
I hadn’t noticed it before, but upon closer inspection, there it was: several ridges.
Jagged memories of anger, sadness, and fear.
I pulled back his arm and stared at his wrist. Healed by time, but very much still there, was an assortment of scares.
Little ones and long ones haphazardly carved into his skin.
“… I… Fuck…” was all I managed to spit out before words failed me.
My thumb ran along the length of a scar and tears filled my eyes.
I never imagined Summoner could understand.
But he understood in ways I hated. The never-ending pain that coursed through my life ran through his.
The twisted depths of the mind where the darkest thoughts lurked had tried to engulf him, too.
My lips trembled, and I couldn’t hold back the involuntary sob that escaped.
Pain, so much pain.
“Poppy?” His voice reached into my darkness.
I couldn’t reply. My grip fell away, and tears streamed down my face.
He had told me this, but then, it was words.
Foolishly, it wasn’t visceral. The evidence made it real.
His pain was real, and it wasn’t meant to be.
Summoner was a man of legend. He was meant to be above all this.
These lows. This darkness. It wasn’t meant to reach him.
But it grabbed hold of him and tried its damnest to rip him away from the world.
In a way, it succeeded. His talent was taken. His music, his lyrics, his voice, stolen from the world. The darkness in my head, the vile things I’d said about myself, Summoner had heard from himself. That knowledge made me sick.
“Poppy?”
His arms pulled me in. To his warmth. To the steady beating of his heart. Involuntary howls erupted from my throat, filling the air with raw emotion.
How had I never noticed?
Summoner smoothed his hand down my back.
My random crying didn’t seem to bother him.
He faced my emotions in stoic stride. My chest bounced up and down as my crying slowed and I tried to level my breathing.
My face still a mess of tears, I pulled Summoner’s arm from around my waist. I squinted and ran my thumb along his wrist and forearm.
The scars still had a bit of heft to them.
My thumb sank over the ridges. I swallowed harshly before burying my face against his chest and his scent filled my nose.
“I did my time, Poppy. I walked through the fire. My burns remain, but there is no pain that is harsh anymore. I cope. I’m working on my strength. You’ll get there, too. In the present, in this moment, I have you and you have me. We have each other.”
“…I’m…I’m so glad you’re still here…” I choked out.
His chest rose as he chuckled, “I’m glad, too. I’m also glad you’re still here. You’ve attempted before?”
“Yeah…”
I spared him the stories of preteen me jumping off my roof to only break my wrist, or college me swallowing a bottle of aspirin to only wake up hours later surrounded by my own vomit and piss.
“Depression is strong, but my Poppy is stronger.”
I shook my head.
“My belief will be strong enough for both of us.” He pressed a kiss to my temple.
His words rose above the quiet and settled on my heart.
Gently, his hand smoothed across my hip. “…Tell me something random about you that I don’t know.”
I squeezed my eyes closed and blurted out the first factoid I could think of.
“I listen to rap music very loudly to hype myself up.”
“Very cool. Tell me something else.”
“I think yellow is the sexiest color on brown skin.”
“I agree with that. Something else.”
“… Uh…You aren’t my favorite bass player.”
“What? Who is?”
“John Taylor.”
“From Duran Duran?!” he sputtered.
I nodded.
“Spotlight-stealing assholes.” Dramatically he rolled his eyes.
“Hey! I’m gonna need clarification on that.”
“Another time. But enough about that. Let’s talk about something else. Something not depressing or annoying.”
He shifted us onto the bed and looked at me. “I’ve been wondering since you told me back at the museum you wanted to write books: Have you started anything yet?”
“God no,” I scoffed. “I have bits of an idea, but nothing really fleshed out.”
“Let’s flesh it out, then. I want you to write a book. If not for you, write it for me. Consider it payback for all the free meals.”
“Are you collecting on your tab?”
He smiled. For the next several hours, Summoner lay in my bed discussing book plotting with me.
I had always considered my ideas silly and farfetched.
I never shared them with anyone. It was easier to keep them locked away instead of facing laughter.
Reluctantly, I told him about my idea of a knight falling through time.
He didn’t laugh or shoot the idea down. He excitedly helped with the roaming timeline in my head.
I didn’t mention the hero was based on him.
A creation from early college, back when my life consisted of essays, microwave ramen, and loneliness.
So much loneliness, that I dreamed up a hero from another time and place that saved me when I couldn’t save myself.
When we finally fell asleep, I dreamed of Summoner as a knight in shining armor. Smiling, he pulled a long sword from hip as he strode by on a white horse.