Crow’s Drabbles & Oneshots

“Have I done something wrong?”  A question asked inside the room instead directed at the person intended to hear. You felt like Qifrey kept his distance tonight, choosing to read in the kitchen next to the stove rather than in the living area you resided in as of right now. You certainly feel his absence; it’s been weighing on your mind. You may only be meters apart, but it affected you.

Qifrey closes his book and places it face down on the kitchen table before closing the physical distance between you. He carries the chair he sat on previously and places it right in front of you, in spite of using the empty space right beside you. Your face speaks volumes. “I’m sorry I didn’t mean to worry you.” He offers you a smile as consolation, but his eyes are fixed on his thighs.

“Is everything alright?” It comes out as a whisper not wanting to upset Qifrey any further. Your thoughts are racing, jumping to conclusions, scanning your memories for a hint of wrongdoing or a simple reason for his behavior. There must be something, anything to have upset him.

“I just need some quiet time, to myself.” You have done it, whatever it is exactly but you certainly did. “It’s not you, it’s not us. We are okay. I want you to know that.” The look on your face must show the questions crashing through your head. “I had so much to do the past weeks. I’m overworked, overwhelmed and running on too little sleep and too much pressure.” You noticed his moods growing progressively more unstable.

“If there is anything I can do anything for you. I’m right here.” You smile to yourself, it’s faint but it’s there. Qifrey squeezes your hand and places a kiss on your forehead. “Thank you for understanding.” He returns his chair to its original place. “I will go to bed, in my room. I’m looking forward to spending the day with you tomorrow. I love you, good night.” And with that he vanished.

You are perfectly aware of his tendencies to disconnect every so often, needing his space; avoiding responsibilities. It hurts, nonetheless. You often feel a carnal need for intimacy, a closeness that’s physically impossible. You need immediate resolution, always – otherwise you are spiraling. Like right now. He explained himself thoroughly and you cognitively understand him down to the last bit, but your heart doesn’t.

Precisely why you find yourself sleeping on the couch tonight, the cackling sound of glimmering ember of the stove soothing you into your slumber, your tired eyes match your inner turmoil.

It’s the middle of the night, the fire lost its last spark, and the atelier is painted in darkness. You rub your eyes and stretch your stiff body; the couch isn’t particularly comfortable. Once your mind truly wakes up you notice an arm around you. It’s Qifrey snoring lightly, his facial features being soft; he looks stunningly peaceful.

So much for needing some time alone.

As if having read your thoughts his eyes flutter open, scanning your face. “You are awake.” A statement spoken in an incredibly attractive low and hazy voice. “Yes, unless I’m dreaming?” A quiet laugh escapes him. He sounds especially cute shortly after awaking. “I couldn’t sleep without you.” Qifrey confesses. “I thought I needed time for myself, but I felt nothing but lonely without you.”

You put your arm around him, joining him for an embrace. The atelier is quiet; you can hear his breath echoing through the small space and feel it on your skin. “I missed you.” He admits. “As did I.” Your noses brush against each other.

“I wish I knew the content of your thoughts.” A statement, a silent plea. You take a moment to form a cohesively structured answer. “I’m scared you will leave me.” He intensifies the pressure of the hug, just the tiniest bit to emphasize his point. “I’m right here.” Your breath feels unsteady.

“I always assume you are upset with me, like I did something wrong.” You pinch the bride of your nose for a split second, trying to ground yourself. “I feel the need to fix it, immediately.” It’s true, you often search for a solution for things that don’t need any. You create problems in your head that don’t exist.

“I will be more mindful about voicing my own inner conflicts.” He doesn’t want his own turmoil affecting you. Communication is key, after all.

“Does it hurt when I’m avoiding your touch?” Does it hurt? Absolutely. It’s a visceral pain spreading through your body, engulfing you whole. A dull ache in the deepest spaces of your heart. You want to scream, want to cry, want to throw up – yet, you are left feeling hollow. You are painfully aware of the fact that you need to work on yourself, it isn’t healthy; neither for you nor for him. You want to heal, for the both of you. Still, the sorrow is present and clouds your mind.

“Yes, very much.” You have so much to say but the words don’t leave your lips. It’s overwhelming and complicated to turn your exact thoughts in words. Qifrey doesn’t pray, he never does. You don’t need to answer; he wouldn’t pressure you. His expectations towards you are seemingly non-existent, which is something you found endearing about him.

“Any kind of intimacy feels excruciating, sometimes.” He swallows, searching for the right words. “There are times I feel unbearable. Myself, I mean. I can’t live myself.” An earnest confession, an incredibly hard one too. “Sometimes I feel like I can’t breathe.” You let him continue pouring his heart out. “I don’t want any distance from you; I need to get away from myself.” A hollow laugh escapes him. “I must sound like an utter fool.”

You try to hold him closer, to soothe him. “You don’t.” You place a kiss on his lips. “I’m sensitive, paranoid even. If you are an idiot, so am I.” He shakes his head, you can’t see but you feel his movement. “I’m hyper-aware of your body language, changes in your facial expression, of the tone in your voice, the cadence of your speech, the choice of your words.” You haven’t been able to speak your thoughts so freely, not because you don’t trust him but because of your own inhibitions.

“You never forget to reassure me, so I don’t jump to the wrong conclusions and lose myself in my own anxiety. Your first thought is always about me, even when you are hurting.” You add and Qifrey listens patiently. “It’s a good thing you tried to listen to yourself for once. I know you want to be strong for me, but you don’t need to be. I love you anyways.”

His answer follows as an action. He takes your hand in his, intertwines your fingers and kisses you – like he’s recharging. After breaking the kiss six words leave his mouth with a radiant smile against your lips.