#feelsy stuff

You didn’t hide but you weren’t forthcoming with your pain. You didn’t think your pain was greater than anyone else’s. You didn’t believe your pain didn’t matter. It was just yours, so why would you show it?

Taking a deep breath you pull the Menorah and box of candles from your dresser drawer, the place you had kept it in the interim. Before the next candle lighting and after the final candle goes out the last 7 nights.

Tonight was the final night.

You place a candle in the 8 lowered holders. You convinced yourself you weren’t hiding your faith, you weren’t hiding this piece of you from anyone. You just wanted it to be yours, after all, there was so little left that was yours. So little left to remind you what you once had.

Grabbing the framed photo from your desk you place it next to the menorah, staring at the smiling faces a deep ache forms in your chest. Your fingers rub the gold-copper base of the menorah, dulled from years of use and your lack of maintenance. 

You could recall nights of laughter, songs, cooking, sweets, and games from your childhood. Fights amongst siblings, parents playfully debating what present is given each night. Piles of the chocolate coins going to the winner. 

A melancholy smile pulls at your lips, nostalgia for life long lost. Sniffling from 'just allergies' you told yourself you pull your hand from the menorah base, eyes lingering on the taller people in the framed picture. “How I wish you were here,” your voice barely a whisper 

“Wish who was here?” You turn around in shock, Steve leaning against your open door arms folded over his chest. You were fairly certain you had closed that. Eyes narrowing at your boyfriend and team leader he smiles bashfully.

“You kept hiding away at the same time past few days,” he looks away uncomfortable with confronting the elephant in the room, “thought I’d investigate.”

Stepping into the room taking your silence as an invitation rather than a signal to leave he stand next to you, looking down at the candle holder and pictures.

“What’s this?” He pauses looking at the star on the candle holder, it becomes pretty clear to him this was something personal, especially given the picture of your family next to it. A family you didn’t speak of a lot, except that they were all gone.

“It’s a Chanukah Menorah,” Steve nods at your words, he remembered seeing these in windows growing up in Brooklyn. He was aware of your faith but you played it off like it wasn’t something important. Though you did seem to disappear two days in the year that coincided with the highest of holy days, not that he looked into it or anything, no nothing like that. Even if he did look wouldn’t it just be his duty as a concerned boyfriend? One that wasn’t always good at uncomfortable conversations so maybe snooping was easier.

You kept things to yourself and Steve wanted to respect that, but sometimes, in times like these, you appeared so far away from him. As if you were living elsewhere, not here with him. 

Which he understood, he’s sure there are times when he gets nostalgic that it makes you feel as if he’s not here with you but yours, well yours hurt him. You knew what he left behind, you knew what he lost but he wasn’t always so sure what you lost. What you were missing when your eyes glazed over.

“Oh,” Steve watches as you grab another candle from the box. “Can I stay?” He looks at you timidly and you look at him, seeing the way his brows furrow worried you’d kick him out. He’s desperate for you to let him stay. You should let him in more, you knew this so maybe this was a start? Maybe you didn’t have to do this alone?

Nodding your head he breaths out a sigh of relief. Taking the matchbox from the dressed he strikes a match to light the candle in your hand. Eyes following your shaking hand going to light the candle on the far right, Steve moves to stand behind you. His hand landing on your shoulder gently sliding down your arm to hold the candle with you, steadying your hand.

He doesn’t miss the way your body relaxes back into him, guiding his hand on top of yours to light each candle. He pulls his hand back to rest on your elbow as you place the candle in the top middle holder. His breath catches when you singe your finger slightly on the surrounding flames.

He stays still though, listening to you recite a prayer over the menorah in a language he doesn't understand. Once you’re finished you turn into his chest. Before you can rest there he pulls your hand to his mouth, kissing the place you had burnt yourself.

Your eyes catch his and he can see the tears forming in the corners. 

“You don’t have to do everything alone,” his lips brush your finger as he speaks. You blink slowly, tears pushing out when you open your eyes. 

“Neither do you,” Steve smile against your finger before kissing it once more and letting go. He wraps you in his arms, your head slotting under his chin to rest your cheek against his chest. Steve rocks you back and forth slowly, his feet shifting and you follow, placing you to face the menorah.

The flame reflections catching on the glass of the framed photo. You sigh in content, nuzzling the side of your face into his chest inhaling deep.  Your arms curling up his back to hold him just as he holds you.