It’s always dark in her dreams, never a star, nor a light flickering in the distance. It’s safe in the dark. One of the few times Mag ever, truly, feels safe. She knows, that when she opens her eyes, be it in five minutes, hours, or when the horn is blown. The light will be there, the staring, gawking, and crowded masses will be there.
There is a brush against her cheek, the worn, callused hand holding it as it was some precious vase. It brushes away a tear she didn’t know she had. He loves her. He may have never said it, he may have simply hoped she knew, and she did. It was enough. The hand stays, and she lifts her own to hold his. A thumb brushes against the stubble, it must be early morning, as he hasn’t shaved yet. The texture brings a smile and he kisses the side of her lips, stealing it and keeping it for his own.
The darkness is warmer, he is hugging her, the buttons of his shirt pressing into her chest in such a small detail that none sighted would think of it. Neither let go, they stay like this for the entire night, holding to each other, clinging for each other’s safety and sanity.
Mag mumbles softly, I love you into his shirt, and waits to see how he reacts, in what way his face would tell his emotions under her fingertips. Nothing is said, but he pulls back, and bends down to reach her ears. His breath is warm, and he begins to mumble into her ears.
The light is fighting against the curtains, showing the girl that the sun has risen, and has been so for a while. It takes her a minute, and she closes her eyes, holding her own face, desperately searching for what he said.
Maybe he’ll tell her tomorrow.
Repo! The Genetic Opera