It was well after midnight, and Daz's mind refused to settle. Through the darkness he watched his soft sheets rise and fall with every slow sleepy breath from sweet Calvin. As happy as Daz was beside him, he was drowning in what if's. They were so new, the relationship fresh, sudden. Daz wasn't sure he could rise to the challenge of embracing such a profound partnership, regardless of Calvin's vibrance. Quiet, he rose from the bed in secret, placed a soft kiss to the man's brow, and snuck to the cool tiles of the kitchen.
The light of the refrigerator blinded as he reached for a cold beer. A chilled ache leached from the glass, rang his palm and rinsed the last whispers of drowsiness from his eyelids. A pressurized hiss from the lid froze Daz in place until silence returned. The coast clear he moved to the stereo, and played comforting ballads at a soft volume to muffle his movements.
Daz stood sipping at the furious bubbles behind his blinds and lost himself to a splintered view of city lights and stars in the sky. Severed and sliced, their hopeful twinkles couldn't distract from the overwhelming worry within. There was so much hurt left unhealed.
No sip satisfied. Bitter beer bit at his taste buds, its carbonation carpeting his tongue. Excruciating memories followed suit, racing to the surface, and suffocating Daz's attention. He ran his hands through his hair, sat to the couch, sunk in the cushions, and let his mind wander. He couldn't help but be critical of the new joy resting in his bedroom. Tiny perceived flaws became boulders, exasperating his torment. Fantastical, mountainous difficulties without merit polluted his imagination. Mere whispers of familiar patterns from the past churned his anxiety. Daz couldn't hold his feelings at bay. He reached for the bottle again, and took a hopeful slug.
Palette uncleansed he placed the drink to his coffee table, and caught his reflection across its glass. Within the ghost sitting on the surface Daz saw another terrible trend. His own self sabotage. The thought jolted him and he lunged for his fizzing distraction. He hadn't needed a drink. The calories unnecessary, Daz hadn't even been thirsty. The beverage caused no more real comfort, aside from that of a misguided crutch. An aid seen in the flawed masculine heartthrobs he'd idolized in television and films his whole life. Tormented men solving their problems with bottles.
What good did it do? Sure, the space and the night to process his own thoughts was a positive. Was he not just making more issues for himself to untangle? Instead, he could be in bed beside warm Calvin. Arm tucked under, held close, warming within his dream. Yet he was here, alone, hurting his own feelings. Constructing unscalable towering fortresses within.
Daz was not a fearful man. He knew better. He knew how to reach. He'd carved his own path over and around untold obstacles before. Why now, when something was good, was he painting it as a problem?
The half empty bottle stared him down. Creeping guilt fought him from wasting it, or the night. He was here, it was time to fight forward and give up going against the current. Daz leaned back and tried to find something good.
Deep down Daz knew he would be safe to wake Calvin and express his emotions. He was certain from the gentle man's patient looks that should he ask for comfort from his own vulnerabilities, he'd be welcomed. Sure there was the potential the thoughts may scare Calvin off. But if they were as right for each other as Daz felt, holding space would be as easy as much as it would be an honour.
The what if's slipped back to torture him. When he centred himself again, Daz wondered if he could leverage the thoughts into ones more positive. Find a counterbalance and shift each nag to something that could save him. What if he did wake Calvin? What if Daz asked him to join him on the couch? What if he listened to the woes and worries?
Somehow the fantasy of Calvin managing to quell Daz's insecurities, and their days draped in happily ever after only throttled his anxiety to a higher gear. His stomach churned, and he pounded the warming beer back. Could he even be happy? Did he even have the capacity?
In the quiet of his fear, a small glimmer called from a corner in his mind. What if he didn't test Calvin? Forgo even waiting for actual evidence of negligence or malice and embrace all of the good. Was he so fragile? In a life ample of heartbreak would another really devastate him beyond a point of repair? It was easy to pretend the others had, but those were only convenient excuses. Daz had picked himself up many times before, what was his precaution protecting him from? Sorrow he was already predetermining? Turmoil he was already feeling? The safety he longed for only Daz could provide himself. What if he leaned in, and accepted that no matter the weather, he'd rise again.
What if instead of asking for Calvin’s protection, he protected him from his own corrosive thoughts? Sure, he could express his boundaries, and share his insecurities. In time. When it was fair for the dreaming man. There was no need to stir him when a deep breath would suffice. Daz rose, peeked through the blinds again and let the specks of light wash over him. No need to suffer through a night when there was no storm. The source of his pain was only the fear of losing the safety of those shared loving feelings, which of course happened immediately when Daz's agonized fretting took over. The underside of his worry only sheltered unfathomable bliss, its depth as alluring as it was paralyzing. His gaze connected across dotting stars. Instead of lamenting himself, he chose to embrace the journey. To dive. Only in the darkness could he find his lucky star. Through the glass he found his place, his smile, and returned to bed.
Thanks for reading! Be sure to check out the previous 12 part collection of Zoditraxx, and consider the other side of subtle dualities.
-Mr. Write
PS: Be sure to check out Exaggerated Shadow’s new release for Capricorny on all your favourite streaming platforms!