#no i checked the time of sunrise in ireland (5:09 am) for this one it's that serious 💀

[angelofsmalldeaath]

first light — a.h.b.

cw: mentions of bad mental health

“there you are,” i lean against the doorframe, watching him manoeuvre in the darkness. it’s barely past four, barely even light out, and yet there he is, fumbling around the kitchen. 

“shit, did i wake you?” he whispers even though he doesn’t need to, and goes back to what he was doing. 

when i squint my eyes a little i realise he’s gathering supplies for coffee. 

“it’s four…”

he nods, his back to me. 

“in the morning…”

another nod. i push myself off the doorframe and walk up to him. 

his hair is sleep-mussed, his t-shirt more wrinkled than usual, like he's been tossing and turning. i wrap my arms around him and kiss his back. 

“why won’t you look at me?”

he shrugs, i feel the muscles of his back move against my cheek. “‘s dark, love, won’t be able to see you anyway.”

i poke him in the ribs, finally eliciting a response. “we have electricity, you know?”

he sighs, deflates more like it, and finally turns, still in my arms, except now my chin rests on his chest as opposed to his back. i look up, trying to make out his features in the twilight. 

“there,” he pauses, makes it a point to stare right into my eyes, “i’m looking at you now.”

i can make out the vague shape of his face. even as my eyes adjust, and i see the one small curl dropping on his forehead, it’s hard to see the rest of him, hard to see the precise green of his eyes or the russet of his beard. 

“can i turn on the lights, please?”

“no, dont!” he wraps his hand around my wrist, gentle but firm. “this feels better.”

i’m about to say something when the kettle comes to a boil. he turns again and i try not to let him go from my arms but he moves anyway. ultimately, i drop them, letting them hang awkwardly at my sides. 

“coffee?”

“do you not plan on going back to bed?”

“not really, no.”

like always he puts two teaspoons of coffee in the french press, pours the hot water on top. i watch him, still turned away from me, silent, thinking. not entirely there. 

“did you ever go to bed?”

“of course i did, darling,” he laughs airily, “i was right next to you all night.”

“that’s not how i mean it and you know it.” the sternness in my voice surprises us both. still, he doesn’t turn. his shoulders sag, his head bows low, and in the dim light, i see a slight shudder pass through him. 

“i couldn’t…”

“bad dreams?”

“bad dreams?!” he laughs bitterly, “what am i, five?”

worry gnaws at my insides, and i hesitate, wondering how much to push. it’s he who first breaks the silence. “just…thoughts. not bad but not…not very nice ones.”

he clears his throat and goes through all the practiced motions—presses the french press down gently, takes out two mugs, his a plain black, mine littered with hand-painted daisies from one of our date nights. somehow in the darkness he manages not to spill a single drop. instead he lingers, takes a second to himself before he turns and offers my mug to me.

“thanks,” i wrap my hand around it and savour the warmth for just the fraction of a second. “can we sit?”

“i really don’t want to move.”

“right…” i walk up to him, standing side by side until our arms touch, and sit, right there on the kitchen floor with my back against the dishwasher. i have to crane my neck a lot to finally look at him wordlessly, he sits too, moves closer to me until our thighs touch and our arms press against each other. 

he still seems so far away. 

gently i intertwine my fingers with his, tracing the pads of his fingers and the light dusting of hair on his knuckles. “should we talk or would you rather sit in silence?”

“a bit heavy to have this chat at the crack of dawn, don’t you think?”

“i don’t mind it if you don’t,” i take a sip of my coffee and cringe at the lack of sugar. right. it’s black. 

my reaction doesn’t go unnoticed though. for the first time that day, he laughs. no that’s not it, he snorts, like he’s teasing me. “i forgot to put in your million sugars.”

“it’s two!” i protest, “and a splash of milk, it’s nothing outrageous!” but the smile on his face lingers just another moment and a smidge of weight lifts off my chest. 

“things must be…abysmal,” i nudge his knee with mine, “if you forgot how i take my coffee.”

for a while he’s silent, watching as the sky lightens—from dark blue to purple to a smidge of pink and orange. it’s not fully light out yet, but i suspect it won’t be long now. 

“a little,” he admits quietly, like it’s a secret he’s only just revealing. “i’ve been trying to hide it from you. a bit shitty of me, really, i’d be upset if you hid something like this from me. if you were struggling,” he swallows, “mentally. and i didn’t know about it. wasn’t there to help you…”

i bring his hand to my mouth, kiss his palm. “it is…upsetting,” i admit, “but i’d like to know now. or–or whenever you’re ready, whenever you want to talk.”

he sighs deeply, rests his head on top of mine. “maybe when it’s not five in the morning.”

i smile when i hear the laugh in his voice, stare at our intertwined hands and how well they fit together.

“how d’you know it’s five?”

“the sun’s up,” he points towards the window with his mug, and i see it there—the sky, no longer purple with a hint of pink. within a few seconds it seems to have erupted with colours; yellow and orange and red and pink and gold. 

a small ray of sunshine even wanders into our kitchen. 

i look at him, finally visible to me in the first light of the morning. then i kiss his temple and he smiles. it’s a small, tentative thing, but it’s there and it’s real and it stays. 

“there you are,” i whisper, failing to contain a smile of my own. 

“there i am,” he whispers, finally turns to look at me. for a moment his gaze lingers on my lips and i take that as my cue to press my lips against his—mine chapped and dry, his tasting like coffee.

“i think it will be a…decent day,” he declares and sets his empty mug aside. “can we go to bed now?”

“you’d like that?”

“yeah…” he gently touches my cheek with his knuckle and i lean into his touch, closing my eyes briefly. when i open them, he’s staring at me, letting his eyes roam all over my face. “i think i’d love that.”