Rise and Shine
Makkari was an early riser, but it wasn’t by choice- she hated the darkness and the cold floors, her body just turned off at ten and turned on at five. Highschool athlete habits refused to die. As such, she woke up before the sun could fully reach her window. At first, it seemed like a dream- the smell of her old home, the heavy weight of arms around her waist, the soft rise and fall of breathing beneath her head. Foggy morning moments with Druig always reminded Makkari of a dream- one that fades away as you wake up, leaving no memory, just feeling, a tightness in the chest. In her bedroom, curled in the air of familiarity, Druig’s hand on the small of her back made her nose burn with nostalgia for a time she hadn’t lived.
It was too early for metaphors. Makkari began carefully shimmying across the bed and out from under Druig’s arm, pausing whenever his nose scrunched the way it always did when something jostled him in his sleep. He was a light sleeper, no matter how tired he was- something she had to adjust to when they moved in together. She remembered waking up one morning and running the coffee machine, only to get hit in the back of the head with a pillow thrown by a half conscious Druig who had fallen asleep on the couch. He hadn’t known who it was, and panicked, and she had panicked, and the whole day was spent trying to get themselves to calm down enough to function. She never asked why he’d reacted so badly. Maybe a better friend would have, but the annoying little kid in the back of her head told her that if he wanted her to know he would have explained it. Either way, she adapted- checked the sofa, ground the coffee beans during the day, figured out which floorboards creaked and which ones were silent. Life became a dance, a careful pattern of two orbiting stars.
It was way too early for that metaphor in particular.
With her feet finally on the cold floor, she was in the clear- no amount of time could fade the muscle memory of navigating her old home. The snow wasn’t too deep- with any luck, she’d be able to get a good run in.
——
The world was blurry, and strange, and cold. Like the surface of the moon, totally alien- the texture of the sheets, the taste of the air, all of it was wrong. Druig’s spine crawled, shudders building in his chest. Logically, he knew he was fine- he was an adult, he was in the same place he’d fallen asleep, and there was no aftertaste of saline from an IV drip. He was perfectly fine, he knew it, but memory proved stronger than logic. Waking up in unfamiliar rooms was a hallmark of his childhood. It never got easier, no matter how many years passed. So logically, he knew he was safe, but already his heart was pounding in his ears.
He watched as his hands pulled the red sweater out of his bag, felt the mixed yarn brush his ears and prickle against his skin. He gazed, blessedly absent, as his fingers popped open the next capsule on his pill box. The stairs creaked at odd intervals, but the sound passed through one ear and out the other, wind between leaves. The cold of the kitchen tile dragged him closer to his body, but not close enough to stop himself from entering his autopilot morning routine, steps he could complete even from the passenger seat of his own mind. Turn the coffee machine on. Check for notes from Makkari on the fridge. Open the fridge. Take out a yogurt cup. Close the fridge. Eat the yogurt. Get a mug. Pour in coffee. Throw away the yogurt cup while the coffee cools. Drink the coffee and wait for the caffeine and his meds to kick in.
Simple. Even in a house that wasn’t his, he could complete the basic steps. There was even the same brand of yogurt he had at home, bringing him closer to control. Routine was the easiest way to cope with empty mornings when his hands belonged to someone else, and the taste of his normal individually packaged kids’ strawberry yogurt was soothing.
“Good morning, Druig. Did you sleep well?” Ajak’s low voice shattered the calm he’d built up, sending him reeling back in time as he shifted his stance. He could see the room in his head, as if from above: Ajak in the doorway, already dressed, Druig by the counter, shoulders slouching and weight shifting automatically. Defensive, defiant, half shielding his coffee mug instinctively. The body language of a teenager with an attitude problem. He could see it like a movie playing out- she would raise her eyebrow at his lack of manners, he would scowl, she would ask him what he thought he was doing, lying to her in her own house, how dare he pretend to be dating her daughter, pretend to belong, did he think she was an idiot?
He felt his jaw tip down and up, a nodded answer to her previous question.
“I’m glad. Makkari’s out running, but she should be back soon. In the meantime, I thought we could talk a bit. You mentioned you’re majoring in psychology, how are you liking it?”
Ajak’s level gaze never left his face, even as his shoulders bunched and straightened under her scrutiny. He couldn’t hear footsteps upstairs- no one was coming to break the tension. He was on his own.
“It’s interesting. I think it’s a good thing to try and understand why people are the way that they are.”
Ajak nodded like he’d said something insightful, and Druig mentally prepared himself for an interrogation about his plans for the future.
“I’m going to make some more coffee. Do you want any?”
He blinked. Was it a test?
“Yes. Thank you.” He managed, and Ajak smiled.
It was going to be a long day.