Archive of Our Own ^beta

“This wouldn’t happen in another universe.”

That was just what he said. I don’t understand why he said it with a smile on his face.

“What makes you say that?” I asked.

“The odds are too great, too improbable. There are so many obstacles placed between us, and a vast array of highly specific events that have to occur in perfect tandem. It’s a simple deduction really.”

I don’t know why that made me uncomfortable.

His weight leaned into mine, a compendium of thought and feeling lay resting against my chest. I breathed, and he breathed with me.

“Why?” I couldn’t help but wonder.

“Some things aren’t meant to be, but then they are. Some things are meant to be, and then they aren’t. Call into question all the whos, whats, whys and whens, and you realize how little anything matters, and how little we should care in the first place.”

I leaned back into him, my arm still wrapped around his, like it had been as we lay together under the couch blankets. There was a tension growing among my temple, my eye twitching ever so slightly. Maybe it was the fatigue. Last night wasn’t the most peaceful, even if he had been there.

“That’s not really what I meant,” I said.

He purred; unbothered, content even.

“Then what is it you ask of me?”

“Did I do something wrong?” I rebutted.

“Of course not. I find meaningful comfort being in your presence.”

His reply only made me think something was wrong with me, but I wasn’t sure how to put it into words. The feeling was on the tip of my tongue, but articulating felt an impossible task at the moment.

“I do too,” I rasped, as my throat clenched. I pulled the rose pink blanket over us even tighter. The faint glow of the TV illuminated our faces with an empty blue light. I must have drifted off into sleep at some point, as I couldn’t even remember when the movie had ended, or when the credits started to roll.

He seemed unsatisfied with the way I was holding him, as he shuffled out from under my arm and came even closer. He pressed his ear to my ribcage and I could feel my heart thump even louder. I knew he was smiling because he began to brush my chest with a gentle palm.

My numbed arm felt relieved to be freed from being pinned to the couch as I wrapped it around him once more.

“Just to have another human being so close to me…for so long I thought this to be an impossible feeling,” he murmured, “how could anyone want for this…? It’s still impossible.”

There were many times I wasn’t sure what to tell him, so I stayed quiet, and deeply saddened.

“Did you get shy all of a sudden?” he teased.

“No I- I don’t know.”

“I’m sure you’ll figure it out eventually. There are some answers I can’t tell you.”

I don’t know why I was getting so tense.

“The way your chest cavity reverberates is music to my ears,” he said, “each sound contributes flavor to our sonata, don’t you think? I see it now, the complex composition and colors of our lives, haven grown chaotic and tangible. I can hardly remember the time when I wanted to see it otherwise. A blank canvas is still blank after all, and I wouldn’t want to start over, not without color. And this could have started with anyone really, but even Delilah couldn’t show me another world, not when ours were one in the same.”

“...Anyone?” I muttered.

“Anyone,” he reiterated, “I could have been anyone as well.”

I didn’t like his answer.

“Are you saying that I don’t matter?”

“On the contrary, I’m saying you matter more than anything.”