#fuzzy blankets

He kissed the top of your head. “Think you can fall asleep?”

“Yeah, yeah.” You took a shuddery breath. “I’m just gonna make a cup of tea, I think.”

“Ok. I’ll be right here.” You squeezed Misha’s arm once before getting out of bed and making your way downstairs.

Once you’d made some tea, you were headed back up to your bedroom when something made you turn around and walk towards the living room. You clutched your mug tight as you sat down on the couch and pulled the quilt off the back, wrapping yourself in it.

You downed the rest of your drink and set it on the floor, holding the blanket tight around you. You closed your eyes and sighed deeply, already feeling yourself drift off again.

“Hey.”

Your eyes fluttered open and you blinked against the sunlight. Misha was standing over you, a plate in one hand and the other on your arm.

“Hey.” You sat up, running a hand through your hair. “What time is it?”

“Almost noon.” He handed you the plate and a fork, syrup covered waffles piled high. “You were sleeping so well, I didn’t want to wake you up.”

You cut into the waffles and took a bite, smiling gratefully. “Thanks.”

Misha sat on the other end of the couch, placing a hand on your knee. “Why didn’t you come back to bed? It was probably a lot warmer than sleeping with only this,” he gestured to the blanket covering you.

“Sorry. I sat down for a minute and just fell asleep.” You took another bite of your waffles. “It wasn’t that bad.”

Misha nodded, rubbing the fabric between his fingers. “You still set on keeping this? It’s starting to come apart, we could get a new one just like it.”

“My mom made it for me.” You swallowed, your throat suddenly too dry. “There aren’t any others like it.”

“Oh.” Misha nodded slowly. “Sorry. I didn’t know.”

You shrugged. “It’s ok. I never told you. Just,” you focused on your plate, trying not to look Misha in the eye, “a lot of memories.”

“I understand.” Misha stood up and kissed you. “Once you’re done eating, I’ll be in my study.”

“Ok.” You smiled up at him as he left, then went back to your food, thinking.

You finished eating and put your dishes in the sink, then sprinted up the stairs to your room.

You rummaged through your closet until you found the shoebox, pulling it out from under some blankets. You walked to your bed and sat down, taking a deep breath before you took off the lid.

A few minutes later you walked into the study, Misha on his computer. He looked up as soon as he saw you enter. “Hey.”

“Hi.” You sat down on the loveseat, nervously drumming your fingers. Misha stood up, frowning slightly as he joined you.

“What’cha got there?”

You handed him the shoebox, wringing your hands nervously as he opened it. His frown deepened as he pulled out a small stack of photographs. He looked at you questioningly.

“You can look at them.”

He took off the rubber band holding them together, his frown morphing into a look of understanding as he went through each one. “These are of you.”

“Yeah.”

“And your family?”

You took the picture he was currently holding. “My mom, my dad, my sister, and me. This was tenth grade, Izzy was in fourth.”

Misha grinned. “You wore braces?”

“Shut up,” you playfully shoved his arm. “I’m trying to be serious.”

“Right, sorry.” Misha cleared his throat theatrically. “Continue?”

You shook your head, smiling. “This one,” you picked another picture out of the stack, “is from Junior year.”

Misha looked at it, trying to decipher what you were showing him. “What’s the medal for?”

You reached into the box and pulled out the medal from the picture, rubbing your thumb over the inscription. “National writing competition. I wrote a short story and it came in second place against 40,000 other students over the country.”

His eyebrows shot up. “Damn.”

You shrugged and put the medal back, picking out another picture. “This one is high school graduation. That’s me with my mom.”

“You had a lot of cords. Nerd.” You shoved Misha again. “Sorry. Serious face. Go.”

“And here’s from the same day with my dad,” you pointed to another picture. Misha smiled.

“You look just like him.”

You smiled back. “Yeah, I got that a lot. He used to call me his twin, which I absolutely couldn’t stand at the time.”

“Cute.” Misha flipped through a few more pictures, stopping at one of you in front of a large school, your arms stretched out above your head and a huge grin on your face. “When was this one taken?”

“First day of college. My parents insisted on driving me out even though it was only an hour away from home.” You laughed to yourself at the memory. “God, they were such dorks. My mom cried when they had to leave. It was embarrassing.”

He flipped to the next picture, one of you and your dad wearing matching UCLA sweatshirts. “Which one is you again?”

“Haven’t heard that one before.” You looked through a few more pictures before you found the one you were looking for, handing it to Misha.

He took one look at it and pursed his lips, nodding. “The quilt.”

You and your mom were holding the quilt you kept folded on the back of the couch in front of the camera, looking at each other with a smile. “She spent two months working on it when she had time off work, patching all the squares and sewing it together.” You sighed deeply, remembering how happy she was when she saw how much you loved it. “She gave it to me after we finished moving all of my stuff into my dorm.”

Misha smiled softly. “It reminds you of her.”

You nodded. “One of the few things I kept after all these years. And this,” you gestured to your necklace. “My parents gave it to me when I graduated high school. I haven’t taken it off since.”

Misha put the pictures back in the box, next to a stack of letters. “What about these?”

You put the lid back on, taking back the box. “Another story for another time.” You hugged the box to your chest. “But… I wanted to show you these. I felt bad about the other day. I shouldn’t have yelled.”

“No, baby,” Misha pulled you into a hug, “don’t worry about it. If anything, I should apologize. You obviously aren’t ready to talk about it yet, and even though I don’t understand why,” he brushed the hair out of your face, holding his hand to your cheek, “I’ll be here when you are ready to talk. I’m always here for you.”

You felt tears prickling at the back of your eyes as you leaned forward to kiss him. “That right there is why I love you.”

Misha smiled. “I love you too.” He chewed on the inside of his cheek for a moment, then stood up. “Wait here.”

You watched, confused, as he left the room, and returned moments later with a bulky gift in his arms. “I was going to wait until Christmas to give this to you, but I couldn’t wait.” He handed it to you as he sat back down.

You ripped off the wrapping paper, bringing a hand to your mouth when you saw what it was.

It was a fleece blanket, personalized with different quotes, dates, and places important to you. You ran your hand over the large print “LOVE” on the far right.

“Misha, I don’t even know what to say,” you breathed, hugging him. “This is beautiful.”

“Just so you know, it’s not supposed to be a replacement for your quilt, ” Misha whispered into your hair. “I just thought we could make our own memories together.”

You laughed, trying to keep the tears at bay. “I love you so much.” You pulled away and kissed him firmly. “I would be honored to make some memories with you.”

Misha smiled. “I’m so happy to hear that.”

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