It Was Always Him

I tried holding my breath – careful not to disturb his slumber. Both of us were extremely exhausted from all the day’s work. We weren’t the only two assigned to this project but in that moment, nobody else mattered. I knew about his insomnia, the very first thing I learned about him. For this guy to sleep soundly in my presence – shedding all the pretenses on the world made me feel… different.

He wasn’t the most beautiful creation of God neither was I in the most comfortable position to be lying down. This calmness running through me, while I studied his face, was enough to keep me quiet even through the physical discomfort I felt.

All of his features were elongated; tad longer than what the world is usually accustomed to. His carefully styled hair. Not a single strand of his hair was out of place and it was when he was asleep! The hairs otherwise reached below his eyes but right now were pushed back with a modern yet elegant style. The strained eyebrows resembling the highest mountains of this world. I had only met him a few times but it felt like those eyebrows were forever punished for some unknown wrongdoings. I had volunteered to massage his eyebrows – a trick I learnt back in college to impress boys but it worked wonders even on worried souls looking for an escape. After what seemed like an infinity did he let all the worries go and let all his facial muscles fall into their rightful place to rest. His long eyelashes belonged only on doctored photos of supermodels on cheap housewife’s selection for magazine covers. The perfectly straight long nose and half a face covered with well kempt beard and handlebar mustache made up the rest of face.

But what stood out the most were the scars. Small scars evident of a carefree childhood and reminders of happy memories. What happened to him? Did he lose all the reasons to be happy to become the man of controlled mind? I tried to guess what different childish activities may have given him these finer details that made his face… his. The one on the nose was definitely from a football accident. Small freckle-like spots on his cheeks spoke of an awkward teenage. The one, barely visible little fully healed gash on his right eyebrow – my favorite of all – demanded kisses and love. Before I could try to go more into the making of that scar, he opened his eyes in one swift movement.

Those eyes stared at me, right into my soul. I had never felt so naked before. I wasn’t ashamed of how I felt, I felt confident. This, sudden, unfamiliar, raw feeling was something I couldn’t place. As I tried to speak I saw him slipping into his usual guarded state. His impenetrable shield was up and nothing said henceforth would reach him. The true him. Had I lost the only possible chance of knowing the real him? His lips moved calculatedly knowing full well what they were about to say. His husky, earthy voice hit my ears and in that one word I heard the universe sing: “Amber.”