iris👁

I must be dreaming.

It's the only explanation I can give, because here I am standing in front of my old house. Father's house. And oh – there's Mother. I can see her. But when I wave and call out, she doesn't seem to hear.

Mother isn't alone though. There's a little girl. Me, I think. I remember this memory. Five years old, on a Wednesday afternoon, sitting on the front lawn with Mother. Talking and laughing. Having teatime over a pink princess tea set. And now there's Heather, joining us.

I smile, and my feet are just starting to walk forward – when suddenly the house door bangs open. Out comes Father, face dark like a thundercloud. He's yelling something at Mother, and now they've gone into a full-blown row. I start to cry. Heather grabs me and pulls me into her arms.

Akai steps into sight. I stumble backwards, alarmed and bewildered. Why is he here? He doesn't belong here.

"Please wake up," he whispers. "I miss you."

The scene fades.

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I'm in the barn. With Moona Lisa. And – ah – the wronged chicken family. My nemesis. I cringe as I make eye contact with the mother hen. I wonder if she's forgiven me yet?

No – wait.

Didn't I resign?

"You're late," comes a familiar voice. "Why are you always late, Miss Iris?"

I turn around. Akai is standing there, shrouded in some sort of a golden glow. He's also shirtless. Upper torso completely unclothed and uncovered.

"That's hardly appropriate farm attire," I hear myself say.

"It's morning now. Time to get up and go to work. Stop sleeping so much."

"I didn't mean to oversleep, did I?" I retort. "Besides, I'm here now."

I blink, and in that nanosecond of having my eyes closed, I feel the slightest pressure on my forehead. As if someone had kissed me there. I open my eyes again.

Akai is smiling, incredibly sad. Are those tears on his cheeks?

The glow grows. The yellow light spills out from behind him, like angel wings. I shade my eyes, and still the light keeps growing. Incandescent. Turning into fire. Eventually, it engulfs me entirely.

"Wake up, Iris," the voice says, sounding further and further away. "Wake up."

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There are whorls of light in my vision, and I feel disoriented. Briefly, like a butterfly whisper, I think I hear someone calling my name.

"Akai?" I shout, but all that comes out is a murmur.

Slowly, very slowly, my eyelids open.

The first thing I see is a white ceiling, with fluorescent lights. There's a humming nearby, like from some sort of machine.

Then Akai's head pops into view. His eyes are dark, sunken. His cheeks, hollow. Stubble around his chin. He looks as if he hadn't showered or slept for ages.

"You look horrible," I mumble.

"Iris," he breathes, voice shaky.

My vision slowly adjusts as I take in the rest of the room. "Where am I?"

"London hospital." Akai's voice is harsh. He sounds bad, and frankly I'm starting to feel alarmed for his well-being. "You were asleep for 6 days."

6 days? Maybe I do have a chronic sleeping problem. Finally, a medical explanation for coming in late to work. I frown. My head's all fuzzy and I can't quite remember things right. "What happened?"

"Jared tried to kidnap you. You fell and hit your head on the train tracks. I've been worried sick."

The last sentence is said in a voice so soft that, if it had been spoken outside of a quiet hospital ward, I probably wouldn't have catch it.

The fog in my head is clearing now. I'm remembering it all. Resigning my post. Cab ride with Teddy. Reaching the train station, grappling with an unseen assailant – my ex husband, really? I shiver as the implication of Akai's words sink in. I never thought Jared Darling would be a man capable of such violence.

And there's something else.

"You were running towards me." My voice is faint. "You came to the train station."

Akai isn't looking at me. He's looking at his hands – and my hands are in his hands, I suddenly realize. He's holding my hands so tightly. I can feel it. As if he never wants to let me go.

I look at him. Properly. Taking in his dishevelled state.

"Have you ... have you been here for all 6 days?"

His voice is a croak. "I couldn't leave."

"Why?"

Lifting his head up, he finally meets my gaze.

I'm shocked to see the tears in his eyes.

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akai👁

Why?

I think I know the answer. In fact, I think I've always known. It's true what people say, that you don't appreciate what you have until it's almost gone.

Of course, the fear is still there. I don't think the fear will ever leave – the fear of waking up one day and finding everything you ever loved suddenly, and forcefully ripped from you. Parents. Companions. Home.

But there are some things worth fighting your fears for.

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iris👁

"Because I love you," Akai whispers.

The words enter my ears and swirl around dizzily. A kaleidoscope of fireworks.

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akai👁

I can't tell if the dazed look on Iris's face comes from the coma or my confession. Ignoring the monstrous thudding of my heart, I fix my eyes on Iris.

The right words, for the right occasion.

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iris👁

"I love the way you don't give up. The way you smile. The sound of your laugh, the colour of your eyes. Like nature." Akai's voice is rough with never-before-seen emotion. Simple, but honest. "The taste of your lips. I didn't mean to kiss you drunk. That wasn't how I wanted our first to go. That was the mistake."

"Wait, wait," I cut in. "That implies ... that implies you've thought of kissing me."

Akai's eyes are both dark and light all at the same time. "I've thought of more than just kissing you."

I can't take this. Physically, I'm not sure if my heart can take this. And it turns out I'm right, because the door slams open to admit both doctor and nurse barging in.

"I want an operation ward prepped!" the doctor is demanding. "Give me two cc's of benzodiazepine – "

They stop short as they see us both. The nurse's hands leap to her mouth.

"You're awake!" she exclaims.

The doctor has both hands on his hips as he looks at Akai. "What are you trying to do – give her a heart attack? I know you wanted her awake, but that's hardly a good method."

Akai blinks, and like the incredibly straight man he is, replies, "I never thought of that. Is it possible?"

I burst out laughing – a sound that is immediately arrested by groaning as my head throbs in dull aches. The stethoscope sweeps swiftly over me, before the doctor declares that I seem to be just fine, and that the dull aches are a symptom of healing, and will persist for no longer than a week. Recovery is imminent and I can leave the ward after a fortnight.

"Just rest, drink lots of water and avoid greasy foods." The doctor pulls the ward door close. "Also, no sex in my hospital."

Akai is reaching out for my hand again. He's doing it almost unconsciously, I realize, with a sort of naturalness that makes my heart thud faster. The machine begins to beep fast.

He starts guiltily, and – I cannot believe this – flushes in both cheeks. "Sorry."

I intertwine my fingers in his. "How often have you thought about more than kissing me?"

"More than is proper."

"You and your propriety." This time I don't miss the way his pupils dilate and his breath catches as I pull him close. "When will you finally step over the line?"

Akai's eyes are clear and transparent to the bottom. "Now, if you'd like."

"I'd like it very much," I whisper.

Our lips touch. There is no summer heat, no ravishing, no clawing of need. The hand that pulls me nearer is a gentle, guiding tug, not a demand. I reach up, hands sinking into his hair. The world melts and softens.

And I know I have everything I need.