2020-02-21 - Wait For Me

We suffer everyday, what is it for? These crimes of illusion are fooling us all. Now I am weary and feel like I do...

And it's only you who can tear me apart. It's only you who can turn my wooden heart.

Lilith was out of the hospital, but she was so quiet in the penthouse that first day and overnight, you could really hardly tell. She kept herself well medicated and watched the shows on the television and in bed on the laptop between dozing spells. She talks enough about things like food and answers small questions fine, but the replies are brief, and she's not really awake enough to bother trying to talk to anyway, all told. Rest really was due physically, she'd been jolted twice, markings aside, and that takes a toll on the insides too, depressive trauma aside. She seems to sleep through the night.

The next day is much the same, but there's small differences. Byron is having to juggle work with her, she knows it, she helps where she's allowed and can. She tries to make him breakfast and lunch, she spends a little time vacuuming cat hair with a hand dustbuster for the sake of moving around, but mostly it's more sleep and music/television. She might as well be the cat. It gives Byron time to observe the small change of her going from listless to a bit of restless autopilot, but there's not a lot of change up top. The woman doesn't want dinner, as she has the appetite of a bird it seems, but with her throat like it is, that's also probably part of the issue. She remembers falling asleep on the couch to a Portishead song and wonders woozily for just a moment if she can remember the version in French.

... Nous souffrons tout les jours ...

In the middle of this second night, Lilith wakes up. She's been moved to bed and the room is dark. She listens to make sure Byron is asleep beside her for a long time, then gradually pushes the cat off of where it's atop the blankets over her legs to pin her like an asshole. The woman eases with creep out of bed and goes into the closet to rummage blindly for something before moving with ghosting steps toward the living area. She gets a joint out of her purse, along with her abandoned phone, but it's not messages she goes to, it's her photo and video folder as she wanders to prop the balcony doors open a crack for fresh air.

Settling down on the end of the couch closest to the door venting, she starts to play a video lowly while flaring up the joint without lighter. There's a bobble there, where she looks at the spliff while exhaling, her brows knit in frown at how vehemently it sparked up, which isn't what she meant to do. But mostly, she immediately starts watching a video while hitting the joint again. There's a small leatherbound album nestled in her lap, what she dug from the closet. There's also piano music, Byron's voice, she's watching the Christmas morning video while curled up in her panties and sleep tank with the blanket and weed crutch to try and go back to sleep with something good imprinted in her mind. .

But eventually, her shoulders start to shake with silent sob.

Ever since they arrived at his apartment, Byron did all that he could to keep Lilith comfortable and feeling safe. Of course, he still had work to do, but he's grown so used to balancing his work and personal life that he tries not to sweat it too much. He just needed to make sure that Lilith was happy. Their belated Valentine's Dinner went off without a hitch this time, even if the entire table set up was a reminder of the point where they were sucked into that terrible Dream. The apartment was still decorated with flowers and the candles which were set up were still littered around the place. These he lights, turning the lights down low once the entire meal was reheated and served. He'd saved a cake which he ordered from Vydal's bakery, something which was kept a secret and their disappearance and trip to the hospital threw a wrench into that revelation. But it was served that evening to go along with a nice glass of wine.

The next day saw Byron seeing his chef friend off, the one who had helped him (Okay, the one who did most of the hard work) when it came to creating such a lavish meal. Then there were the phone calls and boy there were a lot of them. Whenever possible, Byron would take his work out of the office, to settle at the table near the terrace entrance to both admire the view from and using it as a nice base of operation to observe Lilith when she went about doing whatever she needed to to occupy her mind.

In Byron's mind, all of this as an improvement. She barely was able to lift a finger the day before and here she was, tidying up, even though she knows that the building had maid service.

Come bedtime, he was sound asleep. The entire day, despite the improvement in Lilith's mood, was emotionally exhausting to say the least. Mentally, he kept very busy with his work, but as he played observer for the entire day, he was able to pick up a few things about how much she was changing. She may have even felt him picking at her mind every so often, but nothing as intrusive as his entering the headspace like when she was still at the hospital.

Being a light sleeper, mainly because he always had this need to watch his own back through most of his life, Byron picks up the shift in the mattress, something which elicits a soft sleepy murmur in his voice, but nothing more. At least, not until Lilith was already up and out the door. It's then that he'll continue to stir, feeling the warm section of bed beside him and finding it empty. Normally, he would go back to sleep, because she probably woke up to get a drink of water or to use the bathroom. The Lilith that he's been living with now, however, prompts him to drag himself awake, a hand rubs at his eyes as he reaches for a warm robe to throw on to preserve what little modesty that he has.

The smell of MJ is easy to recognize. It's not something that he's worried about and, in fact, he hopes that some weed will do her good to settle that anxious mind of hers. However, it's the quiet sobbing that gets to him. So muffled as if she were trying to hide the fact and he's only alerted to it by the sound of a single gasp. Even before he stepped foot outside of the bedroom, he could already hear what she was occupying her time with, that Christmas morning video.

Still somewhat weary, his concern is what shakes the sleep from both his eyes and his mind when he pads on over in bare feet, positioning himself behind her for now, before leaning in to wrap his arms around her trembling form, his chin resting against her shoulder, "I was wondering what you were up to." He murmurs, before turning to press a kiss into her cheek, his eyes on the screen of her phone.

All day, there'd been spikes in Lilith's subdued mental state, like Byron could feel emotions and thoughts and urges pushing in turns, trying to get out from under the weight. The woman spent all day shutting them down like she was playing mental whack-a-mole while playing defense. But with her in such a state right now, it's clear something cracked through and he already knows it's grief. He can hear it in the way she chokes and gasps, despite the muffling, the kind of overwhelming cry that someone is gripped by when someone is dead. Lilith isn't a cryer so much, he's seen her cry as kids or a little as an adult, it's never been like this. You'd think the man in the video were dead instead of behind her in the bedroom, believed to be asleep.

Byron is behind her, but he's not asleep as she suspects. There's a fractional moment where Lilith twitches with startled jump, right as Byron leans to wrap the security of arms about her from behind, then calms herself the second he starts to murmur and press the kiss alongside her tear-wetted cheek. At first, she starts to choke and cough a little bit in an attempt to hide the fact she's crying, like it's TOTALLY the weed's fault. Her hand moves outward with the lit spliff indicatively, trailing the light of the cherry glow and smoke. She even tries to hit it again while keeping the video playing at an angle they both can watch, but she coughs again because she's still fighting that overwhelming bout of tears.

But when she's done coughing, it just turns into crying again as the video continues to play the pair of them, kissing under the strategically hung mistletoe while seated at the piano bench. It's a little more controlled this time, though, a series of rolling tears, bids for quick air, and sniffles as she trembles, "... sorry. Woke you. Should have... smoked outside."

"It's okay..." Byron whispers into her ear, "It's just me." No mention is made about her crying and instead, he quietly watches the video of himself singing, wearing that silly Santa's hat. It's a little embarrassing for him as he doesn't consider himself to be a real singer. Watching her reaction to the performance, however, was just magical. This is what brings a genuine smile to his lips instead of the amused yet self-conscious smile he had worn just a second ago. "One of these days, I might actually take some lessons." Singing, obviously.

Turning in to kiss her at the side of the lips after she takes a hit of that joint, he unwraps himself from her to round the couch and drop down to seat himself beside her. "May I?" He asks, gesturing to the blunt, already shaking his head, "Don't worry about it. It's fine. I've been overworked recently that I could use a hit. So it's all good." In the darkness, he watches as a tear follows the wet path of an earlier tear, down her pale hot cheek. "Couldn't sleep?" He asks, reaching out to brush the back of a pair of fingers against the trail of tears. It's a gentle motion and despite wiping the tears away, he still makes no open comments about them or her saddened state.

Lilith takes a brief and hasty moment to try and put her face together while Byron walks around the couch, but there's already more tears streaming by the time his backside is settled in the seat cushion next to her. She readily hands the rolled smoke over when he puts his hand in gesture and asks, nodding through her silent cry with agreement, "Yes. Please. You're overdue. For weed, not lessons. You don't need lessons." There's perhaps a bare semblance of smile at her lips in the dark, lit by the glow of her phone when it falls to her lap. It's... a very Lilith response, but she falls into a thick silence right after for a few beats of time before answering the actual question.

The screen continues to play them kissing, the breath picking up, the passion rising audible, the knock against the piano keys, her helpless laughter heard right against his mouth before fade out as her screen goes to sleep.

Lilith's lashes stay down, eyes on the darkened phone screen even when the room is quiet, giving Byron a moment with the smoke during her considering, tear-rolling and sniffling. Gradually, as he strokes her tears, she calms down enough to answer, back to brief and factual at first, but then there's more, "No. Couldn't sleep. Thought weed would help." But clearly, that wasn't her only reason for sitting here on the couch in the dark, seated with phone video and... whatever that is in her blanketed lap she seems to have forgotten about for the time being. After a trembling breath, she goes on, voice rasped with quiet lacings of throat stress.

"I wanted to remember how to look at you like this. It's how I'm supposed to look at you. It's me seeing what I'm supposed to see when I look at you." She pauses, "I kept seeing you twisted with rage while I was asleep." Another pause, "Sometimes it happens during the day, too. I can't stop it from happening." She looks pained, guilty over what she's telling him, "It makes me feel... you had so much hate and blame in your eyes."

Lilith sighs and looks at the blank phone screen when finished divulging. It's not a pleasant conversation. But she's talking to him and that's certainly something.

"I guess there's a reason people say there's a thin line between love and hate."

For the most part, despite his looks of concern, Byron doesn't outright stare at Lilith's tear-streaked face or the way how she fights to keep her sobs from getting out. He's attempting to act as casual as can be, not wanting to upset her by hovering around her and worrying too much. When the blunt is passed over to him, he holds it up to his lips to take a deep and long hit, letting the smoke fill his lungs, to pour out of his nostrils. He doesn't usually partake in drugs, if it didn't dull his senses and leaves him open to mental probing, then it overstimulates and neither are very good options for a man who has this need to keep vigilant at all times. This felt good though and he takes another puff, before handing it back. "Thanks."

Watching as the two of them passionately kiss, knowing that at some point Grant Turner would get a copy of some edited version of this, Byron's eyes peek over at Lilith, expecting her to be focused on the Christmas video. His seated form turned towards her, he keeps close, though tries not to be overly intrusive and at some point, the stroking hand drops to rest against her lap. That's when he notices the leatherbound album held there, his fingertips brushing against it curiously, though he tries not to pay much attention to it for now.

It was hard hearing her describe the way she'd seen him in her Dream, when he hunted her down in those hallways, intent on making her pay. It made him uncomfortable and that much he'll show, because it was normal to feel that way after what They made him do, right? He doesn't like hearing this coming from her, however, though as his jaw might tighten tensely in the darkness, he will make sure to further remind her of their past together, "You know me, Lil. I wouldn't do anything to hurt you." He was always the Hero of his stories in his eyes. The Knight in Shining Armor. "I had a difficult time controlling myself. I wish I could take it all back, make you forget that any of that happened. Change everything just so that I can have you back with me again. Whole and complete."

"I know. I do know that. I feel it when I touch you. Then I see something else. That's why it's so... frustrating and scary, I feel like I can't find you again, but you're right here. You're right here. And I don't know... I feel like a ghost, I wonder if I'm dead. And this is..." Lilith seems to be working out how things feel, other than hurt and guilt, right before Byron's very eyes there for a moment, those defensive mechanisms not yet triggering into overwhelm and shut down. Her sobbing like that seems to have released something, shook something free, "This is the Dream we fall into when we're dead."

Maybe it's the weed too, to be fair. But she really sounds like she's still confused on the state of her mortality as a whole. But at least she's making eye contact and growing something close to animated while frustration creeps on her spill of words. Lilith's hand reaches to press flat in touch against Byron's chest in the robe, fingers slipping underneath to skin so she can feel his heartbeat, "You're right here, though. I died, I felt it, and you're right here. I know that. But I can't... feel that. Did They win?"

She gasps again and suddenly looks down like she's going to start crying again at the very idea of asking such a thing. But the album in her lap catches her attention.

"Your Valentine."

The air was cold, so even though Byron had thrown a robe on for modesty's sake and to help protect against the chilly winter air, her hand at his chest touches against slightly cold skin.

Sensing her frustration in her belief that she might truly be dead, Byron cannot help but draw in a frustrated breath of his own. His hands lift to cup at the sides of her face just so that they can stare at each other eye to eye, his words come out firmly, "You didn't--" Die. "If you died, you wouldn't be here right now, Lilith. Honey. I checked in on Alexander and Isabella and they both seemed to have gone through something similar to what experienced. They were at each other's throats. And in their Dream, Alexander had killed Isabella." Leaning forward to press his forehead against hers, he murmurs, "Though Isabella died, she... I'd asked how she was feeling and it seems that she feels fine. Except for the fact that Alexander Clayton wants nothing to do with her anymore, too afraid that he might try to kill her again." While he may be a man who has a strong grasp of his emotions, for the most part, there's a strain in his voice when he speaks next, his head, still pressed against hers, shaking gently, "Is this how we're all meant to suffer? In our own separate ways? They /Didn't/ win." Though even now, he's not so sure. "But whatever is going on right now, Lily sweetie," He takes a deep swallow, "We're going to make it right. We'll find a way, okay?" He'll find a way.

Then she mentions his Valentine. He had got her something as well, but despite sharing Valentine's Dinner, finally, it never felt like the right time to bring it up. Though, if anything, his curiosity is piqued and she can feel his hands loosen and draw away from her face, his posture straightening. "We'll do this," The opening of the album, "Only when you want to do this, alright?"

Lilith bats her wet lashes a few times and orients on Byron's dark eyes when her face is claimed by his hands, directing her gaze to speak firm with fact and explanation. There's a bare nod of her head before their foreheads are pressed in meet for him to speak more closely. While like this, he can hear and feel the accelerated, shallow pace of her breath as she listens, but gradually, it steadies some, just as his voice starts to press with vocal strain. Then it hitches, because she knows, she knows she's making this harder for him. Her face tips some as his hands fall away and he straightens, like she's tempted to follow his lips.

Instead, she wets her own and looks down at the album as Byron makes suggestion, fingers curling over the leather binding with a hard-thinking expression in the low light.

They'll find a way. That's what they do.

"... okay." Lilith says to Byron after that long and hard moment to mull over how ready she is to give it to him. She wants to, she's aching to now that he's seen it, to see him react and know something good and real again, but what if... what if she can't see him? What if she sees him all wrong? What if she taints another sweet memory with shadow? Her head shakes small and she leans to put it on the coffeetable for now.

After leaning, she shifts in place on the couch to settle herself in sideways, draped sit over Byron's lap, arms taking up loop at his neck and shoulders. Her face nestles into the curve of his neck once she's re-settled in silence. She's exhausting herself emotionally, being open like this, it threatens to overwhelm her again with bubble up before getting tamped back down. instead, she focuses on favoring the nuzzle at his skin where the pulse beats in his neck.

"I love you. Put us back in bed. We'll look at each other until our eyes can't stay open."

Lilith might have trouble tomorrow, and she might still be reserved to some degrees, but she sounds quietly determined. When she pulls her head up to look at Byron after speaking, she can see him fine. She can see him him him. She wants it to be the last thing she sees, not what she saw when her eyes closed in the Dream.

Byron didn't want to seem disinterested in her gift, but he gets this sense of dread and worry when she looks at it, so this is what brought about his decision to refrain from even asking what's in the album. Though he has some guesses because it is an album. There's a shift in his gaze, his eyes searching her features in a gentle way, before hearing her quiet and uncertain voice of agreement to his suggestion. It gets him to smile, still trying to convey to her that everything was fine.

Repositioning himself a tad, so that she can more comfortably drape over his lap, an arm wraps around her to pull her close, enjoying the gentle muzzle of her face as they both sit there in the darkness. Stroking lightly at her hair, he seems content to give her this time to find comfort in him and to bask in the silence of the evening, just the two of them together like this. With her close proximity, her face resting against the side of his neck, she can both hear and feel his breath as it passes through his lungs to be exhaled out of his mouth like a soft groan.

It's only when Lilith finally informs him that she wished to be carried to bed that he moves, the stroking hand brushing against her cheek before lowering to help the other hand in lifting her up. It's a careful, steady motion, with Lilith gathered up into his embrace as he rises to full height. Leaning forward, he places a kiss at her forehead before drifting down meet with her lips. "I love you too, sweets."

As he carries his precious bundle into the comfort of the bedroom to lay her down upon the mattress, he makes an idle comment, "I told Alexander that no matter how worried he was about hurting Isabella again," Well, killing her again, "That it was a bad idea to push her away from him." Slipping out of the robe and letting it pool down the length of his tall frame, onto the floor, he stretches out to settle down next to her, resting on his side, "We learned that lesson and though it's just Crazy Clayton, I wouldn't want anyone to to suffer the loneliness and regrets that we did." He picks up where he left off with the hair stroking, before cherishing her with yet another kiss, his voice coming out in a whisper, "We're stronger together anyway."

Lilith is pliant and nudging with return kiss, which is also a good sign, even if it's not quite one of her impassioned, head over heels style kisses. Mostly, he'd been the one doling out the affection at her brow, her cheek, brushes at her hair, and she'd been receiving readily each time. But she wasn't initiating, so this halfway meeting of kiss also seems like progress, if a bit cautiously soft and slow. She's sure to look at him the all the way into bed after the kiss, to ensure he stays just as he ought be seen, eyes drifting down with the fall of the robe to roam his body.

"We are. We always have been." Lilith says after her gaze is finished making roam, coming to his face again when he crawls into bed next to her. Then they're just eyes for eyes. With one arm folding under her pillow to rest curled on her side to look at him, her other hand extends to drag fingertips at his jawline when he comes in for another kiss. And this time, she kisses him back in full for a brief moment before nudging them nose to nose on murmur, "... I hope Alexander listens. It's better to hurt together than it is to hurt alone."

There's a pause from Lilith, a long pause then she soberly and sleepily breathes out promise, "I'll try harder. I see you now. Wait for me. I'll find you."

It's odd for her to phrase it that way. But Byron's been living with a shell of Lilith the past few days, he's seen what he's seen in her mind. He probably knows exactly what she means as she gradually drifts off with exhaustion.

She's going to fight through.