AWAKE (flash fic) [GL]

Waking up. Sometimes I wonder what it means—what it brings, rather. Opening your eyes, starting your day, getting by. Surviving. Sometimes it amazes me why I still do that. Somehow it amazes me how I’ve managed so far, to think I don’t need coffee every day unlike most people. To think I don’t need to get up early and have a waltz with traffic, unlike most working adults.

It’s 4:15 AM. Too early for me, for her, and her alarm. For her. For her. I smile just looking at her. I want to touch her but not yet; not until her alarm goes off. I don’t want to wake her up, considering she has only slept for 2 hours or so. I always tell her she needs more rest, and it bothers me when she couldn’t sleep easily at night, or when she couldn’t sleep at all. How I wish I can give some of my sleep to her. How I wish I can do more.

Five more minutes and I have to stay awake, not exactly because Aerosmith was right, but because I can’t miss it. Waking her up, I mean.

At exactly 4:30, her phone lights up and plays a familiar tone; a light, not-so-urgent melody for an alarm (which I like) yet I feel torn about. That tone, no matter how gently and innocently it desires to wake up a human, has made me harbor a little irritation to it. Why? Because it just signals the start of a feat, probably the first most important challenge of the day, I and her (especially her) have to conquer: Waking up Her Highness.

I always start it by calling her (by our endearment, or if it doesn’t work after an nth time, by her real name). Then I caress her, kiss her cheek and forehead, gently pat her arm, or anything I think of. I remember calling her Ms. Beautiful one time and it worked. I think of doing it again, but in her ear this time. I can’t describe how satisfying it feels when she begins to move and open her eyes (probably the 2^nd best feeling after Making Up After A Fight), and asks for a hug. Well of course, I’m more than willing to comply.

And so, I’m at the point again of wanting nothing but this. Nothing but this. Just holding her is bliss, and it always has made me want to cry. Of course I hold back; else I’ll be teased as a crybaby again. She looks at me and I look away so she won’t notice. Not today, my love. Not today. And I kiss her forehead instead.

I remind her of the time (it’s quarter to 5) and dismiss her when she asks for another 5 minutes in bed. I have to think of better ways to urge her to get up, I say to myself. One time when even traffic couldn’t do the trick, I even went thinking of a bribe. Thankfully, she got up before I manage to bait anything related to fries or sweets or any unhealthy stuff. Well, it’s not like I’d do anything so that she won’t be late and won’t have to work more to make up for it and have more time to do the things she likes to do. To have more time for me. Um, probably.

It makes me sad when she has to go, but “it’s for our future,” she always says. I smile thinking of a future with her. It makes me want to do my best too. Like putting myself together to take care of responsibilities. To face my own battles for the day in my office. To do my thing.

It’s hard to get up, but I find it less hard now. Because waking up isn’t for me alone. I wake up for her too.

I get back to the house after seeing her off, thinking I’d be thinking of her when I sleep tonight (or when I take an afternoon nap). I oftentimes consider taking a picture of her sleeping face so I can look at it when I miss her. But I fail to do so (like the first attempt when she almost caught me!) I suppose I don’t have to now. After all, it’s something I’ll get to see more and more. And I don’t mind waking up early just to see it.

(Okay, maybe a little.)

(Written: 11June2018)