by Malia Ulmus
Outside, he hears the tell-tale droning of the planes, preparing their nightly attacks on the city, unwelcome reminder of the inevitable.
…love is just not enough, out in this war of needs
Chapter 15
When he gets up, it’s the scent of coffee is filling the room and Raul is sitting at the table, absentmindedly staring at the bird. Manuel blushes, realizing how stupid it must seem that he kept it and tried to save it. Without a word and with a lump in his throat, he sits at the table across from the shepherd who looks up to meet his gaze.
”You did a good job with that wing.”
Manuel blinks, a little confused, not having expected that reaction.
”Uh – I hope? I –“ he sighs, wishes he could explain or put into words why he even tried, “I couldn’t leave it there by itself. It’s ridiculous, you know? I mean, I’ve killed people with my bare hands but I couldn’t bring myself to break it’s neck and instead I’m probably only torturing it here.”
”I’m serious,” Raul says, looking at him with those innocent, genuine eyes that always melt Manuel’s heart, “really. You fixed it well, I’m sure it’ll heal and in about a week, it’ll be flying away.”
They sit in silence for a moment, both looking at the little creature that seems to be resting and it’s actually, to Manuel’s surprise, looking at ease with the situation. Not nervous or panicked about being trapped. He sees that Raul has fed it and put water inside and eventually he looks up and searches for the shepherd’s gaze.
”You know, it’s not ridiculous,” the other says, looking down again. His hand reaches over the table covering Manuel’s and the fighter holds his breath, Raul reaching out for him so openly still a new, overwhelming experience. “Last year, wolves attacked the flock and they killed a few sheep,” Raul continues after a while, thumb rubbing over the skin of Manuel’s wrists where the bruises and marks are slowly fading, “I cried when I saw it. Cried like a child. I mean, I kill sheep with my own hands when we need the food, but that still made me cry, because it’s been unnecessary, because it shouldn’t have been their time yet. So no, I don’t think there’s anything ridiculous about it. The bird deserves its second chance.”
They don’t speak while they finish their coffee and have some of the fresh bread Raul brought along from the farm, but Raul’s hand never leaves his and the ministrations never stop. The delicate touches make all the hair in Manuel’s neck stand up and send shivers down his spine. If he could stay here, with the shepherd, for the rest of their lives, Manuel thinks he’d be the happiest man in the world. He doesn’t think there’s anything about life in the city he’d miss, not if he’d get this in exchange. His eyes stay glued to Raul’s face, the tan skin, the evening stubble on his cheeks, the long black streaks framing it beautifully. Manuel bites his lip, feeling overwhelmed with all kinds of emotions because everything is so beautiful now and he still knows he’ll have to leave it behind so soon.
***
”Cigarette?” Raul asks eventually, light outside fading already and Manuel nods.
They take their usual spots, backs against the wall of the hut, shoulders touching, both of them facing the mountains. Once they’re settled, he feels Manuel’s hand on his, feels the other lacing their fingers and out of reflex, he drops his head on the other’s shoulder.
”You’ll have to go back eventually, right?” He knows his voice is shaky and a few days ago, he’d been embarrassed by the childish neediness he feels. Now, he just wants to hear Manuel deny it, wants him to say that he could stay forever. Between them, he feels the fighter squeeze his hand.
”I don’t want to go,” Manuel says after a long time and Raul leans up, tries to read his face and finds him staring at a distant point in the mountains, “I really don’t want to leave. But yes, I’ll have to go.”
It’s strange how much something that he’d always known about could hurt, how much it could shatter his heart, just because it’s been said out loud now. And Raul feels stupid, but he can’t help it, there’s a few stray tears, slowly rolling down his cheeks.
”No, don’t…” Manuel’s voice sounds as broken as he feels and it takes him more self-restraint than it should to stop himself from burying himself in Manuel’s hold, sobbing into his shirt. “Raul, don’t cry. Please.”
Raul doesn’t even know what makes his heart clench more, the fragile begging in Manuel’s voice or the fact that the fighter used his childhood nickname. For what it’s worth, he bites down on his bottom lip sharply, not wanting to wail like a child.
Manuel moves to straddle his lap, fingers running through his hair, tugging the streaks behind his ears and Raul shudders. He shudders even more, when Manuel’s fingertips run over his cheeks, tracing the wet lines the tears left behind and then, Raul’s eyes closing on instinct, his head dropping back against the wall, Manuel kisses along the stains, lips tracing the same way that the droplets took on their way down. Raul doesn’t think that anyone has ever taken care of him quite like this, with so much love, affection, patience.
He wraps his arms around the other, urging him closer and he loses himself in the way they’re sitting there. Raul can feel Manuel’s heartbeat against his own chest now, feels Manuel’s fingers back in his hair again, gently running over his scalp. If it helps his cause, he’ll just never open his eyes again and maybe then this moment can last forever.
Manuel’s lips move along his temple and jawline, leaving little kisses on their way until they latch at the skin of his neck, sucking a small bruise. There’s a small whimper, echoing through the evening air and it takes Raul a moment to understand that it’s his own.
”If it’s okay with you,” Manuel whispers between his kisses, “we can just pretend that it’s not going to happen, right? We could just push it aside and pretend we have all the time in the world and make the most of what we have.”
”It’s not fair,” he mutters, fingers digging into Manuel’s shirt.
”No,” Manuel says, then kisses his ear again, shivers running down Raul’s spine, “but life’s not very fair in general. It’s the most we get.”
”I know.” He really does and until recently, he’s always believed in higher plans and destiny and God as a fair judge, but all of that is history, many of his beliefs crumbled because of Manuel’s appearance in his life. “I know. And you’re right. Let’s make something out of it.”
Instead of a reply, Manuel kisses him. Not like they did in the afternoon, not greedy or hungry. Just soft, lips against lips, barely any movement, the fighter’s hands still gently toying with his hair. Like they really had all the time in the world.
And maybe, just for tonight, we do.
***
They fall into an easy rhythm over the following days, one where they can joke and play around, wrestling on the grass, splashing around in the water. Everything seems light and worriless, the sun fittingly shining down on them every day. Manuel fixes their food, Raul takes care of the sheep. They smoke together, hold hands a lot, make out anywhere and at any possible time, like they were back to being teenagers.
They talk, too, about life in the city, about Raul’s grandpa. Their own little families they carefully avoid, just like nobody ever mentions the war. Only the occasional droning of the planes reminds them, but it’s never said out loud. Manuel hasn’t felt this carefree for many years, probably not since his childhood. He assumes it’s the same for Raul. By now, he’s not even feeling bad about dragging Raul into this anymore, because the way Raul laughs now, freely, openly, it says that the shepherd isn’t struggling with this, with them. At least not at the moment, and in the end, that’s all Manuel cares about.
Together, they also take care of the little lark. It seems a bit touch and go on the first day, but afterwards, the little creature seems to be getting better day by day. Stronger. And much like Raul had predicted, after a week in their care, it seems that the little one is back to its own self.
”We should take the bandage off an
d try if it flies,” Manuel says softly, staring down into the box and suddenly, his stomach clenches. Because the bird is not the only one who has healed.
”We should,” Raul repeats with a nod, evading his gaze. The broken voice gives it all away though, lets him that the shepherds knows, too.
The lark doesn’t resist when he fidgets around with its wing and he feels strangely solemn when he carries the box outside, Raul following him with a hand on his shoulder. Actually, he thinks Raul’s hands are always somewhere lately, either laced with his or touching his shoulder or running through his hair. Or touching other parts of his body. Manuel blushes over the thought.
They stand in front of the hut, the box with the little bird on the ground and he picks it up, gently sets it down on the grass. They watch it with their fingers laced, Raul’s head on his shoulder again. And after a few minutes, maybe reacquainting itself with nature, with being outside, it hops a bit and then takes off, a bit clumsily at first, but then flying surprisingly easily. It sings, quickly moving higher and higher until it’s out of their sight.
When he picks the box up and carries it inside, Manuel’s steps are suddenly heavy, all the doubts, problems, struggles back with full force, weighing him down. And this night, they don’t talk. Instead, they empty Raul’s last bottle of wine, naked, in each other’s hold and under the sheets. Manuel has never had wine in bed before, but for this night, it seems the right thing to do.
They make love this night, slowly, languidly, like during their first encounter. Words of endearment are whispered into the air, gentle fingers trace scars and lines, memorize inch and inch of skin. Manuel revels in Raul’s smell, basks in his body heat, lets himself be held by these strong arms that so easily carried him when he needed it most. Their ragged breathing and soft moans fill the hut, culminating in both of them panting the other’s name, strangled cries announcing when they stumble over the edge.
***
He wakes up first, Manuel still curled up against his side. Once again, Raul would love to just wrap himself around the other and sob his heart out, but that wouldn’t help either of them. So, he watches Manuel wake up, one last time, mesmerized by the youthful innocence radiating from the fighter when he’s unguarded like this, eyes slightly puffy, cheeks flushed, hair ruffled. They smile at each other once Manuel has blinked his eyes open, but this morning, the air is heavy between them.
Following their usual routine, they bath together, but there’s no playful splashing of water today. Raul takes his time to wash Manuel one last time, remembering the first time he did this when the other was still raw and bloody from the assaults on him. He traces the marks and scars, washes over each one, prays and hopes there won’t be any new ones – though he knows better than that, knows where Manuel is heading to.
Afterwards, he takes care of the sheep and Manuel makes their breakfast. He uses their last coffee and Raul thinks he’ll never have another coffee after this ever again, for irrational reasons wants this to be the last one, a special one. He eats even though his stomach is twisted, just to have these few more moments with Manuel. And then, when their dishes are cleared, there really is no way to push things off anymore.
This time, Raul doesn’t restrain himself. This time, he throws himself at Manuel, buries his face in the other’s shirt and cries his heart out, his sobs making his entire body shake in the fighter’s hold. On his back, Manuel’s hands are rubbing circles, helplessly, attempting to comfort, but there’s no use, because Raul is weeping and wailing. His world seems to be crumbling and stopping and he feels so overwhelmed with despair, as there is no way, or at least he sees no way how his life could ever go on. Not without Manuel.
”I love you, Raul,” the fighter whispers into his ear once he’s finally calm, all his tears and energy drained from his body. And he can tell that the other’s cheeks are damp, too.
”I love you, too,” Raul says, his voice still shaky.
They part with a final kiss and Manuel doesn’t look back and Raul doesn’t stay outside, doesn’t watch him walk away towards the sun. He crumbles to the floor of the hut, sobbing uncontrollably, then screaming and raging about the unfairness, the cruelty of a world and God who’d allow this to happen to him, to them. Eventually, he collapses onto his mattress, exhaustion winning the better of him. He almost falls asleep when one of the dogs appears, licking his hand, reminding him of his job. And he resumes his tasks, because that’s what Manuel would do, or what he’s actually doing right now, fulfilling his place in life. Fair or not.
When you see me
Fly away without you
Shadow on the things you know
Feathers fall around you
And show you the way to go
It’s over, it’s over.
'Dear reader. Thank you. I hope you enjoyed reading Take My Breath Away as much as I enjoyed writing it.' - Malia Ulmus
