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Early Morning Light

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“How long have you been awake?” You ask after slow kisses and easy touches. The morning air lingers around us. It’s a little cold in our room, so we’re entangled in a beautiful mess of limps and try to heat each other up. It’s comfortable in your arms. The softest embrace. I never want to leave.

I’ve been awake for an hour or so, which is unusual for me. You know how much I love my sleep. You tease me so much about it, because it’s rare for me to wake up before six am. To wake up before you. But today I awoke at five and saw Seattle rise. 

When I turned around, my hair was splashed all over your face, but you seemed so relaxed and tender, I didn’t have the heart to laugh out loud. Instead, I found myself removing my hair and watching you intensely. My arms held onto you a little tighter and I moved closer in hopes of not waking you up. 

It’s almost dawn so it’s still dark outside. But when I’d squeeze my eyes together, I could make out your soft features and I began to analyze them. 

I’ve been close to your face so many times already, I thought I had noticed all of your beautiful features. But in the faint light of our morning, I find that I haven’t been as attentive as I thought I was. 

I know your eyes by memory, especially when the light hits them and the blue explodes in so many colors, I forget to keep count. Blue like the ocean, a faint shade of the greenest tree. My favorite colors, by far. But I’ve never seen them closed, thought it wasn’t necessary. But by that I totally missed the two matching freckles on your eyelids, right in the middle of each eye. They’re small and barely visible, but if you look close enough, you can see they are matching in form and color.

The light starts to get more intense and I get a closer look once more. Only yet am I able to see the scar in the outer corner of your left eye. I make a mental note to ask you about it once, but until then I continue to scan your face for more. 

You have dry skin on your forehead, but only close to your hairline. I’m guessing it’s because of the many hair washes you go through everyday, trying to get the disgusting smell of smoke out of it so you can come home to me freshly. 

On your right cheek, close to your nose, I see another scar, only some millimeters long. It looks like you got punched once, and I hope it didn’t hurt as much as it probably did. 

I see every rill on those plump lips I like to kiss so much. They’re soft and taste like cherry, because you refuse to use any other chapstick than your favorite one. The one you haven’t changed since the fire academy, as you once told me. A smile builds on my face, memories of lazy kisses filling my mind and if you weren’t sleeping so peacefully, I’d kiss you with a force I can’t put to mind yet. 

There’s some drool on your chin. It’s cute, but I wipe it away softly so you wouldn’t complain in the morning. 

You stir at my touch, tighten your strong arms around my waist and snuggle just a little closer to my face. 


It’s easy, watching you in the early hours of our days. No burning building or car crashes, no saving life’s and risking your own. No, in those early hours, when the light hits your face just perfetto, I have you all for myself. I don’t need to worry if you’d make it home to me or if I need to rush to the hospital because you ended up hurt in a fire. 

I’m just watching my wife sleep.

It’s the most comforting moment about my day. 

I almost don’t realize it when you wake up. Almost. 

But I catch the way your breath changes from total piece to calm consciousness. My eyes tear themselves away from your lips and I see how yours open ever so slightly. The light, now brighter, reflects in a way that gives me goosebumps and brividi.

How can it be, that when you only just awoke, you look so beautiful already?

Belissima. La più belissima.

You blink twice and as I see your eyes focus on mine, a smiles creeps up your face. Small and innocent, as if you didn’t know I just spent an hour watching you. I know you do, and you know I do. 

Still, the not-so-unfamiliar feeling of ecstasy fills my pores while I mirror your face. My body feels high on adrenaline, already, and I feel like I’ve transported myself right back to the beginning of our relationship. To the moments I’d smile of glee because you sent another message, another coffee. I still do, every day. But maybe not out of glee, but comfort and… safety? 

Because that’s what I feel when I’m with you, Maya Bishop. When I look at you, all I see in this ocean of blue, is home. 

“G’morning.” You mumble, voice laced with sleep. Your hand finds my cheek and I lean into the familiar touch. 

Buongiorno, Bella. Did you sleep well?”


You rest your eyes again, and then, when they open again, you flash me the biggest smile. The soft hand previously on my cheek reaches down, gliding over the satin night gown on my skin, then creeps under the light material to caress my stomach.

I smile just as big back to you. 

“Today’s the day!” You cheer, blond strands falling across your forehead and darkening your ever-so-bright features. I push them back behind your ear and let my hand rest on the soft skin of your left cheek, my thumb caressing the scar next to your eye.

“Today’s the day, Bambina.” Today, as we so proudly sing, is the fourteenth day after our second IVF try and it’s time to take a pregnancy test. You’ve been to excited about it, I know you had trouble falling asleep yesterday. I hope these few hours of sleep rest you enough for today.

It might be a little selfish to want to delay this test for just another couple of minutes, but the possibility of a negative result seems to crushing for this perfect morning. 

So I do what I can do best; I lean forward and press my lips softly against your, smile when you grand me entrance almost immediately. I taste cherry, as well as the slight remains of your mouthwash and I find that it’s not the worst to just kiss you for the time being. The test can wait, we have time. 

All the time in the world. 

The giggle escaping your throat is intoxicating and soon I find myself joining. Gladly. You kiss me again, a small peck, before your voice erupts again. 

“How long have you been awake?”

And so the day begins.