Let's Leave Unsaid

by =onnawufei

At three in the morning even the palest light hurts Daniel’s eyes as he opens them, seeking out the red letters of the clock while moving as little as possible.  The moonlight floods the room, and the sleep deprived serial killer curses his cat for knocking the blinds askew and allowing the offensive light into the room in the first place.  In the past it was almost standard practice for Daniel to wake up, curse the cat, fix the blinds and then go find something to occupy his time.  He would spend the remainder of the moonlight hours watching TV or cleaning upstairs, doing things that didn’t need to be done again, but that kept him from agonizing over his lack of sleep.  These days however, he doesn’t even leave the bed.  Instead he remains as still as possible so as not to awaken the man next to him, and in complete silence he watches his boyfriend sleep.

Daniel has never been the sentimental romantic type, so his practice of keeping watch over the younger man is something he would never talk about.  He would never tell Mali how he watches his chest rise and fall, marking every breath and watching for the slightest change that could indicate him waking up or dreaming.  He would never say how he pushes Mali’s hair out of the way to watch his face, sometimes tracing the scar over his eye with his fingertips.  He would most certainly never mention how when Mali’s eyes clench tighter with the pains of a nightmare, he kisses his forehead and whispers soothing words against his skin until Mali relaxes.  No, these were things that no one, particularly Mali needed to know.

It takes only moments for Daniel’s eyes to adjust and for him to become grateful for the intruding moonlight.  With its aid he can better see his boyfriend’s face, noticing the subtleties of his expressions and studying every twitch and possible display of emotion.  It looks like he’s dreaming, though Daniel has no way of knowing what about.  What the dream is about isn’t particularly important to him anyway, the only thing that is important is that Mali isn’t having a nightmare.  On those nights it’s obvious, his pained expression easy to read on his sleeping face.  Mali’s always been like that though, easy to read at least to Daniel.  There’s a kind of subtle naivety about him that the casual observer wouldn’t even notice, something behind the façade he puts on every day. It didn’t take Daniel long to realize that the Mali he’d first met, the one who was threatening and cruel, wasn’t the real Mali.  The real Mali is sweet and caring, almost boyish in his stubborn nature and desire to receive affection.  The people in the bars, the people that they picked up and tortured before Daniel finished them off and disposed of their bodies, they would never see the real Mali.  They would see Malakai, the man with the eye patch and trench coat, the one with big black boots and a cold piercing stare.  Only Daniel gets to see the perpetually bed headed young man in the oversized sweater and boxers, holding a stuffed bear and his eyes, both eyes tearing up over something that Daniel doesn’t even understand.  For this Daniel is grateful, because at twenty seven years old, old enough to know what life is about, he’s learned that showing emotion is not a sign of weakness, and that letting people in is worth the risk.  He’s learned all of this and then some, all because of the man sleeping next to him.