Wake Me From the Dead
Don't Want To Let You Down
Alice did not realize that there might be more to life than what she had been given. She had never tried to envision a life without Ballet and the pristine conditions of her home life - her parents had never encouraged her to have dreams beyond the streets of Wonderland, although she vaguely remembered a time when she did not live here, and thus she had never lusted after a life bigger than the one she had. She had never entertained dreams because she had been taught, conditioned, to believe that there was nothing she wanted beyond dancing. It had been easy for her to fall into the rigid routine, to throw herself into it, because it kept her protected from the world outside their front door. Although she was proud beyond reason, she was afraid because she was inept, she did not know the mechanics of the real world because she had been so diligently protected from it. She had no reason for the conceited air that accompanied her every day, although it was decidedly absent now. She had nothing to be proud of outside of the glass, mirrored walls of her (now shattered) dance studio beside her youthful beauty and her sweeping, flawless grace.
She was eerily comfortable tucked neatly against his side and she found that she wanted to remain right here for as long as possible. But it was not long before the realization dawned on her and she was stopping suddenly, clutching his arm as if it was a lifeline. And the way he looked at her, those eyes all full of expectance had her heart fluttering stupidly in the hollow of her breast and she considered not speaking at all. But words came spilling out of her mouth before she could stop them and a sudden, peculiar sort of protective instinct washed over her. She frowned as he smirked at her, suddenly indignant and considered crossing her arms in protest to his wild urge to laugh at her - she could see it all over his face and it surprised her that she recognized it. But she didn’t want to release him for fear that one of them might disappear. He addressed her as his darling and even she recognized it for what it was and her heart stirred wildly in her chest. But he spoke beyond that and she listened because, in this moment, there was nothing more she wanted to do. She desperately wanted to keep him here with her and she knew it would not be easy to watch him go but, for the first time in her life, she was trying to be brave for someone other than herself. But he was being brave for her and she wanted to let him, she wanted to be swept up in his bravado and tucked safely away, well out of the reach of danger. She wanted to be weak because she didn’t know how much longer she could go on feigning strength. She wanted to be weak and not have to be ashamed, she wanted to be weak and have her fears soothed with gentle tones and fleeting touches. But she knew this was not a possibility, so she went on staring up at him with her jaw set and those dark-blue eyes intense.
But, too soon, he was advancing on her and she tried to maintain her façade but she had a sneaking suspicion that he could see straight through her. She was swayed to a greater tenderness by the sweep of sooty lashes across his sharp cheekbones and the depth of those amber eyes and her heart stirred restlessly in her chest and each of her muscles tightened in anticipation for whatever might come next and she desperately wanted to reach out and touch him, to feel him. She wanted to memorize the lines and angles of his face with her fingertips, to explore the dips and valleys of his ribcage but she stifled herself and only went on staring up at him, silently yearning for his touch. And he reached for her and her heart slammed to life in her chest while each of her nerves buzzed in anticipation and she allowed herself to be swept up into his arms. Although, she could not help the shriek, which was a mixture of surprise and utter delight, that came in response and she pressed her face into the warm plains of his neck to smother it. It was a brash action, one she didn’t think through completely, and she found that she immediately regretted it because the sensation that accompanies the shock of her mouth pressed against the taut muscle in his neck caught her off-guard. But she laughed, regardless, like bells and butterfly wings, the first time she had laughed a sincere laugh in as long as she could remember, and looped her arms around his neck for added security, although she had no fear that he might drop her.
To say that she felt safe caught up in his arms, hovering so far above the ground, would be an understatement. And, although she knew it was foolish, she was utterly at ease in his embrace. So at ease, in fact, that some idiotic part of her allowed her to think it was all right for her to dip her forehead so that she might rest it gingerly against the warm, exposed flesh of his neck. She was utterly smitten and she was quite sure this was painfully obvious by now but she couldn’t find it in herself to mind. Instead, she focused only on breathing him in, that lilting mouth hovering so close to his skin that her breath fell in whispers across his bare flesh. Her eyelids fluttered and closed and she was acutely aware of his long, loping strides as he swept across the sidewalk, painfully aware of the strength of him and the swell of his broad chest as he breathed. She felt like a child and, for the first time, she didn’t mind.
Too soon, though, he was rolling to a halt and her heart sank to the pit of her gut with a heavy sort of dread. He offered her an out that she wanted nothing more than to dismiss because she would much rather stay folded neatly against his chest for the rest of her life but she knew it would be utterly inappropriate for her to make him carry her all the way home. So she lifted her head and tried desperately to keep her disappointment from her eyes while she mustered a grin and shook her head. “Davie,” she says in a childish attempt to be cute, which can only remind him of his mother, “you have made it quite obvious that I have no say in the matter,” she went on in a light, teasing tone, the only indication that she had a sense of humor at all, “so I think it’s safe for you to put me down.”
Before he could release her, though, she realized that life was short and there were too many things that remain unsaid and too many actions that remain stifled. And so, before her feet were returned to the ground, while she was still floating blissfully out of reach of concrete reality, she craned her neck to press a fleeting kiss against the hard edge of his jaw, trailing paper-weight fingertips down the length of his vulnerable jugular vein and across the peak of his jutting collarbone before preparing herself for her return to reality. Already, she mourned for the dream-like quality of the atmosphere between his arms.
She was eerily comfortable tucked neatly against his side and she found that she wanted to remain right here for as long as possible. But it was not long before the realization dawned on her and she was stopping suddenly, clutching his arm as if it was a lifeline. And the way he looked at her, those eyes all full of expectance had her heart fluttering stupidly in the hollow of her breast and she considered not speaking at all. But words came spilling out of her mouth before she could stop them and a sudden, peculiar sort of protective instinct washed over her. She frowned as he smirked at her, suddenly indignant and considered crossing her arms in protest to his wild urge to laugh at her - she could see it all over his face and it surprised her that she recognized it. But she didn’t want to release him for fear that one of them might disappear. He addressed her as his darling and even she recognized it for what it was and her heart stirred wildly in her chest. But he spoke beyond that and she listened because, in this moment, there was nothing more she wanted to do. She desperately wanted to keep him here with her and she knew it would not be easy to watch him go but, for the first time in her life, she was trying to be brave for someone other than herself. But he was being brave for her and she wanted to let him, she wanted to be swept up in his bravado and tucked safely away, well out of the reach of danger. She wanted to be weak because she didn’t know how much longer she could go on feigning strength. She wanted to be weak and not have to be ashamed, she wanted to be weak and have her fears soothed with gentle tones and fleeting touches. But she knew this was not a possibility, so she went on staring up at him with her jaw set and those dark-blue eyes intense.
But, too soon, he was advancing on her and she tried to maintain her façade but she had a sneaking suspicion that he could see straight through her. She was swayed to a greater tenderness by the sweep of sooty lashes across his sharp cheekbones and the depth of those amber eyes and her heart stirred restlessly in her chest and each of her muscles tightened in anticipation for whatever might come next and she desperately wanted to reach out and touch him, to feel him. She wanted to memorize the lines and angles of his face with her fingertips, to explore the dips and valleys of his ribcage but she stifled herself and only went on staring up at him, silently yearning for his touch. And he reached for her and her heart slammed to life in her chest while each of her nerves buzzed in anticipation and she allowed herself to be swept up into his arms. Although, she could not help the shriek, which was a mixture of surprise and utter delight, that came in response and she pressed her face into the warm plains of his neck to smother it. It was a brash action, one she didn’t think through completely, and she found that she immediately regretted it because the sensation that accompanies the shock of her mouth pressed against the taut muscle in his neck caught her off-guard. But she laughed, regardless, like bells and butterfly wings, the first time she had laughed a sincere laugh in as long as she could remember, and looped her arms around his neck for added security, although she had no fear that he might drop her.
To say that she felt safe caught up in his arms, hovering so far above the ground, would be an understatement. And, although she knew it was foolish, she was utterly at ease in his embrace. So at ease, in fact, that some idiotic part of her allowed her to think it was all right for her to dip her forehead so that she might rest it gingerly against the warm, exposed flesh of his neck. She was utterly smitten and she was quite sure this was painfully obvious by now but she couldn’t find it in herself to mind. Instead, she focused only on breathing him in, that lilting mouth hovering so close to his skin that her breath fell in whispers across his bare flesh. Her eyelids fluttered and closed and she was acutely aware of his long, loping strides as he swept across the sidewalk, painfully aware of the strength of him and the swell of his broad chest as he breathed. She felt like a child and, for the first time, she didn’t mind.
Too soon, though, he was rolling to a halt and her heart sank to the pit of her gut with a heavy sort of dread. He offered her an out that she wanted nothing more than to dismiss because she would much rather stay folded neatly against his chest for the rest of her life but she knew it would be utterly inappropriate for her to make him carry her all the way home. So she lifted her head and tried desperately to keep her disappointment from her eyes while she mustered a grin and shook her head. “Davie,” she says in a childish attempt to be cute, which can only remind him of his mother, “you have made it quite obvious that I have no say in the matter,” she went on in a light, teasing tone, the only indication that she had a sense of humor at all, “so I think it’s safe for you to put me down.”
Before he could release her, though, she realized that life was short and there were too many things that remain unsaid and too many actions that remain stifled. And so, before her feet were returned to the ground, while she was still floating blissfully out of reach of concrete reality, she craned her neck to press a fleeting kiss against the hard edge of his jaw, trailing paper-weight fingertips down the length of his vulnerable jugular vein and across the peak of his jutting collarbone before preparing herself for her return to reality. Already, she mourned for the dream-like quality of the atmosphere between his arms.