dark side of the moon; antonia

[Antonia]

Few thousand miles and an ocean away,
but I see the sunrise, just like the other day.

  The sea is tumultuous and turning – darkening as the pale light of the hazy sun slowly descends beyond the horizon, leaving only a remnant of daylight clutching to the very edges of a rumbling sky. Relentlessly, the atmosphere is changing – and the storm is roiling and stirring, as the thick and heavy clouds seamlessly traverse the seemingly endless expanse above.

  Quietly, she presses her shoulder against his own, seeking his warmth as the once tepid air becomes much more frigid, and even more unforgiving. With her cheek pressed against the broad curve of his neck, she can hear his pulse, steady and thrumming, and it is as powerful and as tempestuous as the rising tide.

  Slowly, it is shifting – the rise and fall of the salty sea is moving further up the length of her legs, eliciting a shiver – but perhaps it is moreso stirred by the heaviness within his dark eyes (one a searing, vivid crimson, and the other almost as dark as a starless evening), boring into her own. Her breath is caught then, and her once rhythmic heart is ragged again, pounding fiercely at its wiry bone confinement. His breath is soft and warm, brushing across her cheek as the intensity shared is rife with crackling electricity. Antonia, he almost whispers, and softly, she touches the darkness of her mouth against the crook of his neck, feeling his very own life force hum from within.

  Spear, his rumbling, yet trembling voice manages above the deep rumbling of an ever-nearing storm, and she can hardly stifle the smile aching to pull draw the corner of her mouth up. There is a moment of hesitation after his name is uttered from his lips, before a forced smile emerges, half-hearted, but soon it wanes, once again flattened to a slim, flattened line. I don’t even know what I am right now, but I’m here.

  ”I think that your presence is more than enough, Spear,” she murmurs thoughtfully, the warmth of her smile radiating as her teeth once more tug with the tangle of his dark tresses, tasting the heat of morning and the small granules of sand interlaced with each strand. ”I would never ask of anything more –“ but then, a light of mischief rises to the golden flecks of her eyes, and her teeth brush across his ear, lightly tugging – and above them, the sky opens up, thick and warm and the rain is falling, falling, trickling across their skin in rivulets, and she is laughing.

  ”Do you like the rain, Spear?” she breathes, looking towards the dark, looming clouds lingering just overhead, as droplets of water caress her soft, youthful features, trailing down the length of her neck. ”I do. Tell me that you do, too.”

Antonia