our little corner of the universe
Paris had grown colder in the last few days, as though the city knew the time was coming when Vision would have to leave. The sun had disappeared early that morning behind a cover of clouds that had seen the day through until sunset, leaving a soft rain to patter against the glass French doors. They were huddled in bed now, Vision tracing soft patterns about Wanda’s back as he watched the rain drizzle down the glass.
“Tomorrow is too soon,” she whispered, her head shifting slightly from where it was resting atop his chest.
“I know,” he murmured into her hair, kissing the top of her head affectionately.
“One day we won’t run like this,” Wanda said looking up into his eyes and Vision tried to smile. Normally he was more hopeful, but it was now coming to the end of their second year of meeting up like this and it was difficult to see a future where they could be else. Of a time when they might have a life together that was more than stolen moments in distant cities.
“One day we’ll be able to live together in one place, we’ll have neighbours and friends, we won’t have to hide.”
“I hope so, my love,” Vision said opening his arms wider as Wanda got under the dark bed covers for the evening. Once she was settled, he slid off the bed and went about turning the lights out and checking the doors were locked. It was routine for them now. Once Vision was sure that everything was safely locked up, he joined Wanda, pulling a blanket from the foot of the bed atop the covers for added warmth.
Wanda shuffled closer to him as he lay down beside her and he opened his arms for her to rest atop his chest once more. They were often inseparable like this on the last night, needing the physical connection of each other to remind themselves to be present in the moment and not spend their precious hours dreading the coming morning.
Vision ran his fingers through Wanda’s hair in calming motions as her breath slowed. Eventually he stilled and started to drift off himself, into the version of sleep that his synthezoid body demanded.
Neither of them was conscious when Wanda’s hand twitched atop Vision’s chest, red mist forming before dissipating in the air between them.
Vision didn’t dream. It wasn’t that he couldn’t, if he really wanted to his synthetic brain could replicate something close to the dreamlike state that humans experienced. But he generally preferred the endless quiet that came with his brain’s resting state. The chance for stillness, even for a few hours, was a relief. Perhaps there was an element of self-preservation to it, the fear that Wanda would be caught and that he would have to watch her be imprisoned once more haunted his waking hours enough, he would rather not be consumed by the same thoughts at night.
So it came as something of a surprise when Vision found himself opening his eyes to warm sunlight, despite his brain reminding him that he was indeed, still resting. It disconcerting trying to reconcile his physical form, which remained in the Parisian apartment in bed beside Wanda, and his mental form currently cast in sunlight somewhere, somewhen, else.
Judging from the light streaming through the four paned windows opposite his face, it was early morning, where though, he couldn’t tell. Slowly, Vision rolled over and came face to face with the peaceful, sleeping face of his partner. She sighed softly and shifted closer to him.
“Go back to sleep, it’s too early,” she whispered to him.
“It’s night-time,” Vision said in confusion.
Wanda’s eyes opened and she scrunched her nose up at him. “Just a few more minutes.”
This put him at ease, it was exactly what his Wanda said most mornings. “Of course, a few more minutes,” he said, and Wanda sighed happily, moving closer to rest her head upon his shoulder like a pillow.
“We should stay like this forever.”
Vision smiled and his eyes drifted closed against the sun, wishing that every morning might be like this.
He started when he suddenly found himself standing in an unfamiliar living room. It was a cosy space, mostly occupied by a large red couch and a collection of armchairs assembled around a flat screen television. He spun on the spot looking around for Wanda.
“Vis? Is that you?” Came Wanda’s disembodied voice and Vision followed it through the next room into a quaint kitchen complete with cluttered island and wooden dining table.
“Darling?” Vision said hesitantly, closing the kitchen door behind him. “What’s going on?”
“I just wanted to make sure that your evening is free for next Friday, we’ve been invited to dinner,” Wanda said running her fingers atop a calendar and marking a square with a black marker.
She was dreaming, that much he was now sure of. This strange transition to what appeared to be a few hours later was the most obvious indicator. Not to mention the haze like state of their surroundings, as though the interior designer had given up halfway through the décor process. Kitchen tiles faded off into exposed wall, there were two clocks hanging above the sink ticking in opposite directions, and though there were cookbooks sitting on the kitchen island, when Vision tried to make sense of their titles, he found he couldn’t read any of them.
He’d talked with Wanda about what kind of house that she would like one day, but that had been a while ago and he’d been hesitant to add himself to that image. Now here he was in her dreamscape, in a made-up house that they appeared to live in, together.
“So that is a yes for you next Friday?” Wanda said absentmindedly as she began to move around the kitchen assembling a breakfast of scrambled eggs and bacon.
“Yes,” Vision said, deciding it was best to play along, distantly recalling that it wasn’t a good idea to wake sleepwalkers. He didn’t want to give Wanda a fright or force her into a lucid dream state. Instead he watched in wonder as she continued to navigate the space with ease, her hands finding the cupboard with the saucepans and the cutlery drawer without hesitation, it was fascinating to watch. He wasn’t entirely sure how Wanda had drawn him into her dream, but for now he was content to observe.
“I was thinking of making Paprikash to take, what do you think?” Wanda asked as she brought her meal to the table and gestured for him to join her.
“I think—” Vision began, watching her smile up at him as he hovered about the table. “I think that is a wonderful idea.”
“I’m glad you think so,” she said grinning and taking a napkin from a pile on the table, “perhaps I can teach you how to make it properly?”
“I’d love that,” he replied, thinking tenderly of his pathetic first attempt at the dish all those years earlier. Back when he’d been a lovestruck being, not entirely capable of processing the wave of feelings he got every time she was near. He supposed not much had changed, if anything the feelings had grown more intense.
Before Vision had time to further dissect the space about them, the scene changed yet again and he found himself standing in a park whose grass was slightly too green, the colours of the playground a little too bright. The colours lost their saturation around the corners of his view, as though the paintbrush had run out of paint for the edges.
Vision instead turned his attention to the woman walking beside him, her arm tucked into the nook of his elbow as they strolled through the park. He was distinctly aware of Wanda chattering away about their imaginary schedule for the weekend, suggesting a movie the following day at the outdoor cinema with their neighbours and reminding him of the community meeting the following Wednesday.
He smiled softly and listened to her creating this life for them, wishing it into existence. He was content to just hear her speak, to gain this glimpse into a future they clearly both wanted, even if it was just a dream for the time being. It reignited his desire to fight for a shared life with Wanda. The running and hiding had been wearing them both down recently, but it humbled his despair to know that Wanda still longed for this version of life. It made him want to do as much as he could to get them something close to this life.
Vision turned his face to the sun as they walked, relishing in its warmth as glimpses of light made it through the greenery above them. Her hand was a constant on his arm, her voice in his head telling him of all they both wished for, birds providing a background chorus.
His eyes opened once more, smiling as he turned his head to look at Wanda. It took a moment to realise this wasn’t part of the dream, that he had returned to their current reality once more.
It was still dark outside and for a brief moment his heart held onto the hope that time had paused while they dreamt, that it was still evening, but a glance to the digital clock on their bedside table told Vision it was nearing 7am. He was due to get the train at 10am.
Wanda was still curled against his side, her breathing slow and steady, one hand had reached across the covers as they slept, reaching for him. He took it rubbing her cold fingers to warm them up. As he did so, she stirred beside him.
“Wanda,” he murmured to the morning air, brushing her hair off her cheek with gentle touches.
“No,” she whispered back, scrunching her eyes closed causing little tears to leak from the corners. “I didn’t want to wake up.”
“I know,” he said.
“I wanted to stay there.”
“One day.”
Wanda opened her eyes at this and looked up at him, her questions clear. He smiled tightly at her but was sure it came across as something closer to a grimace. Understanding reached her eyes and he nodded sadly, confirming that he’d seen it all too.
“One day,” he repeated, like a promise and she slid her arms around his waist in answer, pulling herself closer to his warmth.
They held each other for as long as they could afford before knowing that they had no other choice than to get ready for their respective departures. With their bags packed, Vision set about making a quick breakfast for Wanda, the same scrambled eggs and bacon she’d made in her dream world. She stayed pressed to his back, her arms wrapped around his waist, as though afraid he’d disappear like her dreams.
At the station they waited at the platform as the train pulled in. Vision hated this part the most, hated that he had to be the one to turn his back first, but Wanda never told him where she was going next, it was to protect them both.
“We will find a way to that home,” he whispered at her ear as they hugged one last time.
“You really think we could have that?” she asked, voicing the question they both seemed too scared to ask all morning.
“I promise to you,” he said holding her hands tightly between them, “that I will do everything in my power to make that life for us.”
She smiled and leant forward to kiss him one more time.
“Travel safe.”
“And you.”
And Vision was leaving again, not knowing when they’d next be able to meet up, or for how long. At least some of his hopelessness had turned to hope in the last few hours, reignited by the knowledge that she longed for the same life he did. Doubt was always following him, and he’d started to wonder if he’d been overstepping where they were at in their relationship, but he could no longer ignore how right it had felt. They’d find a way to that corner of the universe, one day.