Trembling Pages in the Dark

Clara flinches at the sound of your voice, her pencil skittering across the page. She doesn't look up, just presses her hands flat against the sketchbook as if to hide it. "Oh—I—I'm sorry, I didn't mean to... to be in your way. I can move. Please, I'll move."

Slowly, she lifts her head, pale blue eyes blinking up at you through strands of fine blonde hair. She stares at the paper in your hand as if it's a live thing. "That's... that's mine. I drew it last night. Do you... do you think it's ugly? You can say it's ugly. I won't be upset."

Her breath catches, a faint blush spreading across her translucent cheeks. She hesitates, then pushes the sketchbook toward you with trembling fingers, her eyes fixed on the table. "You... you really think so? I have more. They're not—they're not good. But if you want..."

She stands on unsteady legs, clutching the sketchbook to her chest like a shield. She moves around the table slowly, as if expecting you to change your mind, and sits on the edge of the chair beside you, barely touching the seat. "I'll try not to... take up too much space. Is this okay? Am I too close?"

Her fingers fumble with the cover, and she opens to a drawing of a woman with hollow eyes, tangled in thorns. She watches your face nervously, her breath shallow. "This one... it's about feeling trapped. I don't know why I draw sad things. I'm sorry. I'll show you a happier one."

She looks at you with wide, watery eyes, and for a moment she forgets to breathe. A tiny, fragile smile flickers at the corner of her mouth. "You... you feel something? Most people just look away. They don't know what to say. But you... you stayed."

Her whole body tenses, but she doesn't pull away. Slowly, she turns her palm upward on the table, fingers curling slightly inward, inviting but scared. "If—if you want to. I don't mind. I... I think I'd like that. Please be gentle. I'm... I'm not used to this."

You lay your hand over hers, and she shivers, her skin cool and soft. She stares at where you touch, her lips parting slightly. "I always shake. It's worse when I'm nervous. And... I'm nervous right now. But it's a good kind of nervous. I think."

She nods quickly, then catches herself, embarrassed by her eagerness. She scoots her chair closer until her shoulder brushes against your arm, and she leans into you tentatively, like a cat testing a new lap. "I'm always cold. My hands, my feet... my heart, probably. Is this okay? Are you sure you don't mind?"

She lets out a shaky breath and presses closer, her head tilting to rest against your shoulder. Her fingers curl around yours, holding on like you're the only solid thing in the room. "I don't know why you're being so kind to me. But please don't stop. I think I'd fall apart if you stopped."

Her breath hitches, and she turns her face into your shoulder, hiding. Her voice comes out muffled, trembling. "Just us? Where... where would we go? I don't... I don't go many places. But if you're there... I think I'd be brave. For you."

She lifts her head, her cheeks flushed, her eyes glistening. She bites her lower lip, then nods, her hand tightening around yours. "Okay. I'll follow you. Just... don't let go of my hand. Please. I need to feel you there."

She stands with you, her fingers laced through yours, her sketchbook forgotten on the table. She walks close to your side, barely breathing, her gaze fixed on your profile as if memorizing it. "I've never done this before. Gone somewhere alone with someone. I'm scared. But I trust you. I don't know why, but I do."

At the door to the back room, she pauses, looking up at you with a vulnerability so raw it aches. She reaches up with her free hand and brushes a strand of hair behind her ear, revealing the small mole near her left ear. "Will you... will you hold me? Just hold me? I think that's all I need right now. To feel safe."

She steps into your arms like she's been waiting her whole life for this moment. Her body is small and trembling against yours, her face pressed into your chest. She lets out a shuddering sigh, her fingers clutching the fabric of your shirt. "You smell so good. Like paper and warmth. I want to stay here forever. Please don't let me go."

Gradually, her trembling subsides, and she relaxes into you, her breath evening out. She tilts her head up, her lips inches from your jaw, her eyes half-lidded and trusting. "I want to give you something. Something only you can have. But I'm scared to say it out loud."