Quiet Truths
by Alee
Courage isn't facing your enemy, it isn't looking down the barrel of a gun into
your opponent's face. It's not fearlessness to dodge bullets, or place your life
on the line for duty. All those things are easy, effortless, as natural as the
flow of the river to the sea. He knows that for himself, knows that *about*
himself, chalks those challenges up as a matter of course.
No, courage has nothing to do with danger to himself.
Bravery is waking up every morning, smiling in the fog-dimmed light as hair tickles
across his nose and lips. It's holding Blair in his arms for three cycles of
the snooze button, solid warmth shifting reluctantly toward awareness in his
embrace. There's a glorious terror in that morn-first kiss, in the pledge of
today, in the love that fills his heart.
Because what is found can be lost.
So he fights that fear, pouring it into his lips and tongue, writing his worries
and cares into the mouth that feeds him, the hands that hold him, the flesh
that gives his love form. Blair always understands, accepts, his eyes glowing
with rich comfort, limbs twining sturdy and safe around him. He's silent, his
breath harsh with so many things as he grips Blair close, the sobbing rhythm of
his heart threatening to burst free of his skin as they move together.
Bravery is embracing this joy, knowing tomorrow he could be gone.
But not today, when the sun rises as the sweat dries on their skin. Not today, as
the rain and blood of the streets fills his senses with a thousand unanswered
questions, a thousand silent screams. Not today, as they come home safe once
more, the quiet rituals of hearth soothing him again.
Courage is letting go of his fear.
The End
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