This Is Our Sin

Craig held her delicate face in his hands, forehead pressed gently against hers and eyes half-lidded. Her soft breath ghosted across his parted lips and disappeared into the breeze that enveloped them, playfully tousling his hair. Her blue eyes sparkled in the warm afternoon sun and her mouth pulled into a small smile as Craig laced his fingers through her long blonde locks. Neither of them paid attention to the busy city that surrounded them, not to the marketplace to their right nor the wagons that passed them. They were lost in each others embrace as their lips gently touched in a kiss, eyes slipping closed.

“Je t'aime.” She whispered against his lips, and though Craig didn’t know a single word of French he understood perfectly.
“Je t'aime, trop.” The foreign tongue rolled from his lips with ease and he signed in content, pulling her closer.


Craig’s eyes shot open suddenly, the images of his dream disappearing quickly, melting into the bare canvas of his lounge-room ceiling. He breathed deeply as his body woke and he pulled himself into a sitting position, realizing he had fallen asleep on the couch. Dim light illuminated the room from the television that stood silent, baring the menu of the DVD he had been watching. He sighed and rubbed his face with his palms; the dreams were back.

Craig rose to his feet with plans of crawling into bed and falling back to sleep, but he knew it would be a good hour or so of him laying awake and mulling the dream over before he could sleep again. Usually, he would never think twice about what his mind would conjure up as he slept, but recently he couldn’t get them out of his head.

Ever since he was a child Craig could barely remember his dreams, and on the off chance that he did, they wouldn’t make an ounce of sense. It was only a month ago that that had changed. They had become vivid, overly realistic and would play out as if it were scattered chapters of a book. He could see the 16th Century city of Paris around him, could feel the old-fashioned clothes that adorned his body, he could feel the sunrays heat on his face and could smell the soft scent of grass as he stood in the meadows. His senses felt more alive in his dreams than in reality.

But none of that intrigued him nearly as much as she did. The woman in his arms every time, with her blonde hair and blue eyes, the smile that made him weak at his knees and the kiss that swept his breath away. He couldn’t shake her gorgeous face from his mind, couldn’t escape the feeling that she was supposed to mean everything to him.

Sometimes the dreams would leave, replaced with the old nonsense that he was used to, and he could try all he liked but he would never convince himself that he was glad when they did. They would always return after a few nights, and so the stories would continue.

Craig considered writing down the events of his latest dream but dismissed the thought. Nothing outstanding had happened, she had been in his arms again, kissing him tenderly and cooing to him in French. Craig frowned slightly, hoping to remember what exactly she had said, but he could no longer translate it as he had as he slept. He exhaled heavily through his nose as he wondered into his room, picking up one of the many scattered papers on his desk, reading over his messy scrawl.

She was sitting by the fire, holding her babbling daughter against her chest: our daughter. She smiled as she saw me and stood up, handing me the child. ‘I know who to use tonight’, she said, but I don’t remember exactly what she had meant. I had been so distracted by the giggling baby in my arms. Then I woke up. Even after the dream it had felt strange remembering the child. Is that what it’s like to hold your own kid? The love I could feel inside of me? I wish I knew that feeling for real. It’s so stupid, even awake I feel like I know what it’s like to be a father.

Craig sighed and tossed the paper back down onto the desk, flopping down onto his unmade bed. He closed his eyes and willed his mind to stop ticking and just let him fall asleep. Maybe she would be there again.

*

Craig moaned as a loud thumping forced him from his sleep, waking up belly-down in his bed with a small drool patch on his pillow. He rubbed his tired eyes with his fists and squinted at the bright numbers on his alarm clock; 8:00 a.m. He moaned again, rolling over onto his back. It had only been two hours since he had finally drifted back to sleep. He had spent the remainder of the night thinking too hard about sleep to actually find it and had been tossing and turning for hours. He couldn’t remember having any kind of dream and his stomach dropped slightly at the though of them leaving again so soon.

More banging came from downstairs and he sighed, rolling out of bed.
“Yeah, I’m coming!” He yelled.
After trudging down the flight of carpeted stairs, he unlocked and opened the front door clad in only his boxers. In his irritated, tired mood Max’s smirking face only annoyed him. He rolled his eyes and leant against the doorframe, shivering in the embrace of the icy breeze that blew into his house.

“Why are you here so early?!”
Max just shrugged and grinned, his long black hair blowing in the wind and his green eyes sparkling from behind his glasses. He thrust one of two huge cups of Starbucks coffee towards Craig as what Craig assumed was a peace offering for waking him so early.
“Thought we could get an early start on writing.” They had planned on writing some new music, just for fun, but both of them knew they’d end up feeling too lazy and just hanging out.
“Now would you let me in, I’m freezing my ass off out here.” Though Max was wrapped in jackets he was still visibly shivering in the cold.

Craig sighed, snatching his coffee from Max and moving so he could pass. As soon as the hot, sweet latte passed his lips he instantly felt better, at least his best friend knew him well enough to get his coffee right at a time like this. Max waltzed into the house as if it were his own, heading towards the kitchen to, no doubt, raid Craig’s fridge. Craig grabbed a random hoodie off the couch as he followed Max, pulling it over his naked torso.

Max had his head in the cupboard already when Craig entered the kitchen and soon was wrestling with the packaging on some Cherry Pop-Tarts. Craig sat upon the kitchen bench and laughed at his friend as he won his war against the foil and gleefully put the sugary snacks into the toaster.
“You act like you’re three.” Craig teased, shaking his head.
“Yeah, well, you buy food as if you’re catering a three year old.” At the thought, Craig’s mind wandered back to his dream, to his happy daughter in his arms. He shook the image away.

Once Max had devoured half of Craig’s food supply – for the size of the guy he could sure eat a lot – they flopped down onto the couch and flicked on the television, completely ignoring the fact that they were supposed to be writing. As soon as his body melted into the comfortable couch, Craig’s eyes slipped closed and even though The Big Bang Theory was blaring and Max was laughing loudly he could feel himself falling asleep. He groaned in frustration and swatted away Max’s hand as it smacked his chest in attempt to wake him up.

“Dude, why are you so tired, I thought you stayed home last night?” Max questioned and Craig merely shrugged.
“Or maybe someone was over here!” Max added, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively. When no response came from Craig, he frowned and licked the side of his face to gain his attention, making sure to slobber on him as much as possible.

“Yuck, dude, fuck off!” Craig cried, throwing out his tattooed arm and smacking Max in the face. Max grumbled, not being one who stood to be ignored.
“Fine, fucker.” He scoffed, falling back against the couch and continued watching the sitcom.
Craig ignored him, snuggling further into the couch and promptly fell unconscious.


Craig sat on the dirty floor by the crackling fire, beaming smile adorning his face and his arms outstretched. His child was a meter away from him and was trying to crawl towards her father, laughing happily even though her attempts were working against her. Her mother sat behind her and she placed a delicate hand on her daughters back, smiling happily. Craig leant forward to grasp the child under her arms and lifted her up, cradling her in his arms and she laughed again.

“My darling.” He whispered to her, French words meeting his ears, gently kissing the top of her head.

“Craig.” He looked up to see his lover looking at him, a more serious look upon her face.
“Yes, my love?”
“They found another this noon, and they’ve already gone forward in destroying them. I’m scared, Craig, what if we’re next.”
Craig outstretched his free arm and she moved to sit beside him, leaning against his body as his arm snaked around her.
“Don’t worry.” He muttered against her soft hair “They won’t find us.”