Quiet Moments

Casey reflects on the complicated relationship between himself and Effy, enjoying the rare quiet moments with her that allow him to think and savor her peaceful demeanor.

Breathe deep, breathe clear; know that I'm here

Effy’s room was always a disaster, clothes thrown around, all the scribbles in sharpie on the wall (Casey’s personal favorite being ‘f**k off’ written in pretty script and bright red marker), the fairy lights draped around the small enclave that contained her desk, even the flag she’d strung up to use as drapes by the window next to her bed (“It’s irony, Casey! F****n’ fight me!”) which, speaking of her bed, was just very low sitting mattress on top of a frame that was too small for it and sheets that didn’t even remotely match one another.

And despite its hectic nature, the sunlight that filtered through the flag that gave everything a soft glow in the morning sun, it brought him comfort. He always woke up before Effy, but she also seemed to pass out way after him so it made sense. And Casey couldn’t exactly say that he minded, it was those quiet moments that he cherished. Those moments when Effy didn’t look empty or sad, when he wasn’t having to wrap up her arms, when he could look down at her and she looked peaceful.

She was wrapped around him, an arm wrapped over his waist, a leg draped over his, her head on his chest. Sometime through the night she’d flailed the covers off of her; the shirt she wore, the one she’d pulled off of him the night before, bunched up above her waist. Her flailing always caused it and Casey couldn’t help but chuckle. Her hair stuck out every which way, both bed head and sex hair. He doubted his own looked much neater but it was still funny. Her breathing was quiet and even, her chest rising and falling slowly.

For the most part, Effy hadn’t bothered to get redressed, simply grabbing his shirt and her underwear just in case Kaz forgot to knock. The dark fabric stuck out against the pale skin it covered (“I’ll stop wearing black when they make a color darker, now hush.”) and yet it seemed fitting. Maybe because he’d just gotten used to seeing it, or just because he knew how Effy was. Either way, the contrast was still stark.

Casey had one arm wrapped around her, his fingers idly playing with the peach tips of her hair while she slept. The fact that he’d gotten this far, going from the transfer student chasing after the girl who seemed to hate everyone to the boyfriend of said girl who didn’t hate quite everyone but whose feelings towards others were still debatable, blew his mind. It’d taken him almost a year to get through those walls she’d built, layer after layer of concrete around her. But he never regretted it. Not for a second.

He believed in soul mates and it was moments like these; where he was able to hold her while she slept, where she trusted him so deeply that she was entirely vulnerable, where the

night before he’d heard plenty of whispers of ‘I love you’s that were all entirely genuine- that he

was reminded that he had found his.

How could a heart like yours ever love a heart like mine?

Author's Note

Casey and Effy (Elizabeth) are two character's that I do consistently write for, and I hope that these characters get a chance to grow. I would love to know if they're interesting enough for people to follow with them.