If you must hide, may it be in my arms
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The potatoes rattled against the sides of the pot as the water began to boil. Simon adjusted the flame lower.
It had rained for days back then. The sound of it on the hospital windows blurred into the machines beside the bed, steady and repetitive. A nurse had told him to talk. Said it helped patients in comas.
Simon didn’t.
Outside, the light stayed grey most of the time. Johnny didn’t open his eyes.
Simon found himself missing the clear days with blue.
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- Part 1 of If you must hide, may it be in my arms
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The balcony could fit two chairs.
Not big ones. Just enough room for a pair of folding chairs and a small table between them. Somewhere, Johnny could leave a coffee mug. Or one of those plants he kept buying despite forgetting to water half of them.Some days were harder than others, but that was just life, the way Simon saw it, anyway.
Series
- Part 2 of If you must hide, may it be in my arms
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Before the bullet, they didn't have a name for what they were. Defining a relationship in the military just wouldn't do. So, Simon and Johnny never talked about what they were, or what they could be if they ever made it out alive.
But then, perched on the small hospital chair, Simon felt like Atlas with the world on his shoulders, capable of carrying whatever Johnny placed there.
Series
- Part 3 of If you must hide, may it be in my arms