There are still so many details missing, but Zero is beginning to remember more and more as time goes by. He remembers life before Abra, the constant fear and anger, the girl he loved who left him. Life with Abra is the most important part, though, what stands out to him the most. Even though a lot of that is still hazy, he remembers and he feels warm at the thought, knowing that there was nothing better than this. Nothing can ever be better than this.
“Yeah?” he asks, not all that surprised that the weirdo in the woods would have a dove named Snow White that he sends to angels’ windows. It’s sweet in its own way, he supposes. Especially for a girl like Abra. “That sounds nice. Did you make friends with the dove? You probably having matching wings.”
”—She sits on my head while I. Write.”
Abra doesn’t really understand the words about wings—she’s seen photos of angels in Grandfather’s books and things they’re beautiful, however, the small thing has no recollection of knowing herself as one. She remembers helping Zero somehow, and she’s sure she felt something in her bones every now and then—but for the most part, her mind has gone blank. She doesn’t know what she is, she’s only just starting to sort out who she is. Abra shifts upright a little, tenderly pushing Zero onto his back as tiny digits brush over his jutting collarbone. Her lashes lower—she smiles faintly, bright eyes raising to watch her husband.
“…You are—getting pudgy. Darling. Like S—…Shampoo…”
She says the name hesitantly, only recently being able to stand the small dog—only when he was calm, though. He seemed to try to be agreeable to Abra.
“I wish. You would—hunt. That’s—important to you.”
You are brave. It is natural to be afraid, but you cannot let you fear eat you up. Don’t think ‘what if.’ Everything will be alright, Abra, I feel it inside of me. You can do this. You are strong, and you make those around you strong.
I never tell a lie! She doesn’t perch upon my head at all. Only pretty girls’ heads.
i don’t remember being strong. i don’t think i was strong when i was in the nightmare. beau was strong. he saved me. and now i am here and i don’t think this is strength.
you are a liar and a cad! that is what snow white says.
i cut my little finger today
“I love you, too,” he murmurs, leaning in again and pressing another kiss to her lips.
He doesn’t know if she’s ready, or if she’ll ever be ready, but he can give her something. Slow kisses from her lips to her neck, her skin caressed and traced gently. Hands drift over her breast and her hips, dancing around her thighs.
When he stops, he wraps his arms around her again and draws her closer. Once more, he kisses her lips and nuzzles into her neck, whispering that he loves her on repeat, hoping that it will somehow make things better, make her happier. She’s tiny and cold and small and he loves her more than he’s ever loved anything, more than he’s ever wanted to love anything.
Abra is quivering, suddenly, feeling those lips against her neck and strong hands caressing her—she feels warm and flushed, hiding her face into Zero’s shoulder and sounding a little whimper at his declarations of love. Her adoration for him is so constant—she doesn’t remember not loving him, not knowing him. There are brief glimmers of a life before him—but why would she want to remember a life without him? Abra’s tiny hands cling tightly onto the man, and she tenderly leans in to press a sweet kiss to his mouth.
”…I started—talking to. Cato. He sends a pretty dove to the window—her name is Snow White. Isn’t that something.”
Abra seems happy with this, now, eyes brightening as she nuzzles into Zero’s cheek with a happy coo.
“Because I do. Because I love you. I love you because I love you.”
He knows that isn’t enough of an answer for her, though. He knows that it’s too hard to wrap her mind around things when they aren’t spelled out, simple answers. The problem is that there aren’t any simple answers; not anymore, and Zero doesn’t know how to answer any of the questions he has half the time.
“Let me tell you a story. I starved myself to death. To death. And you saved me. I proved again and again that I wasn’t worth loving, I was awful to you. And you loved me. I was a monster, and you didn’t care. You forgave me. For every mistake and misstep and… fucked up thing I did. You stood by me. And I owe you, and I love you.”
He presses a kiss to her lips—lets his hand flutter about her breast for a moment.
The memory of Zero drawing out his own death is a memory that Abra feels within her bones—she hitches in a small breath and hides her face in her elbow with a small whimper, knowing that he won’t change his mind. He’ll always believe Abra is worth loving, worth adoring—he’s good for her, too good for her, and she chews down on her bottom lip only to flush deeply as she feels a strong, calloused palm flutter over the subtle rise of her breast.
Bright eyes flicker and watch the male for a moment, and she feels a chill at the touch—so very sensitive to him, she leans in to press a small kiss to his mouth, pressing in to his tender touch and drawing in a slow breath.
“…I love you—so much. So so much.”
It was overwhelming—she draws back a fraction, gentle wide eyes holding the male as her digits brush over the hollow of his cheek.
brightest star —
What makes him hurt is not the idea of you leaving the garden, but the idea that you may not return. He must realize that there is nothing to be afraid of. He may not seem it, but he is scared, the boychild. Tell him your thoughts true. Tell him you need to breathe the air beyond the garden. Tell him you are suffocating, but tell him gently. You are both healing. His reaction is to fiercely protect, even if protection is not needed.
Her name is Snow White, like the fairy tale. She loves pretty girls.
much enjoying the vision of a dove on your head,
what if he says no? what if i’m not ready like he thinks? i don’t know which way to move…so i don’t move at all. i stay here. i’m so afraid. i feel like my time is running short and i can only think of dreams for so long before it all comes through. then what? what will i do?
you’re only saying that. i like that name, anyway.
does she perch upon your head too?,
a startled reader
Tell them this, exactly as you’ve said it to me. Don’t be afraid. They just may listen to you. You have clearly thought about this very much and clearly feel very strongly about it, and I know that will touch them. Keep fear out of your voice when you ask. I know you can. You’re the bravest dove.
You could never be a bother. There is nothing in me but love for you and the people you call family.
dreaming of your light,
i don’t want to worry him. i don’t want to make him sad. what if me leaving the garden makes him cry? i don’t want to make him hurt, his heart is my own
that’s nice to hear. what is this dove’s name? she sits on my head while i write.
with a dove upon my head,
girl with bird hat upon her head
“I know you do. But you shouldn’t have to rush things… You are Abra. I know you are. I see it every day. When you look at me, when you laugh at something I say, when you stare at me or Liam a little too long and make us a bit nervous…” Zero taps her nose and laughs lightly, pressing a kiss to her lips. “It’s been a long time, but I can wait. And I will, until I know that everything’s okay, until you’re completely ready to do something like that again.”
He cards his fingers through his hair, twining strands around them. That’s something he’s always been able to remember, playing with her soft hair, nuzzling into her sweet-smelling skin and listening to her breathe, chirp, whisper out her little poems.
“You are Abra, okay? Whenever you’re ready for that, we’ll do it—but you won’t be any more Abra than you are now, because you’ve always been, and I love you.”
He seems so at ease, now—it’s enough to have Abra calming down a bit, soothed by his low laughter and tender voice, the feeling of his digits running through her long tangle of hair. Abra could cry—she wants desperately to know Zero as she used to know him, but he’s right in his own way. Abra is constantly told not to rush things—it worries her, for even when she does feel ready for things, Beau isn’t ready.
Her eyes soften and grow pained as small digits brush over his neck and Abra leans in to nuzzle and kiss at his cheek.
”Even if I’m Abra I still—can’t go out and. Maybe I want to feel you closer, maybe—so maybe I can feel more like me. I don’t. I don’t—feel that way, now. How can you—love me like this..”
Beau only wants to keep you safe. The garden’s gate may feel like prison bars, but I know they do everything they can to make it as close to Eden as they can for you. Listen to them, they love you, but don’t let their restrictions kill your spirit. Continue to strive for what’s outside the gate, and if they allow it, come see me. We can taste freedom together, perhaps.
the sun glows for you,
i know. he is good to me, but i worry. how can i feel like abra if i’m locked away like this? my mind doesn’t give me answers, and when it does, they’re teases. nothing much.
will i not be a bother?
“Of course I do. It’s just been a long time—I’m sorry, I shouldn’t be speaking in the past tense all the time.”
This wouldn’t be the first time he’s made the mistake. Everything was, not is—he knows he shouldn’t do that. It almost gives everything he says its own hopeless edge, and he doesn’t mean to do that. It only further isolates Abra, makes her feel as though everything is different and never going get better.
“But I do. I love you, and I even love just snuggling up to you like this,” he says, nuzzling into her and giving her little kisses. “I love you so much, Abra. And I always will, and anything done with you is good.”
She’s sad when he uses past tense. It rarely registers right away—but when it does, she’s lying awake in bed wanting to cry because she knows that if Zero doesn’t think they’ll get better then they might not get better, ever, because Abra doesn’t know what on earth she’s doing and she needs him to guide her along.
She gives a small nod of her head, drawing in a small breath and allowing her eyes to fall shut. He says those sweet things, and they aren’t lies—but she’s worried nonetheless and looking towards the man as her teeth sink into her bottom lip.
“…It’s been a long time. That is—what you said I. I want things to be like they were. I want to feel like Abra.”
Your bones still need to get stronger. Soon you will be able to write perfectly. Soon you will be able to break the pen if you so wish it. Remember, you are little but mighty.
the stars kiss you,
maybe bones aren’t the problem. micah told me to write so i did. i feel so small and still think about leaving the garden and beau scolded me badly.