“It was never going to happen,” Meshani tells me firmly. “I saw the look on your face, in that instant before the room went dark. You were frightened and hurt. I thought you would bolt.”

“I almost did,” I admit softly. “I wanted to run. To hide. Because that was what I had always done. Escape, so no one could see I was weak and take advantage of that. But then the transformer literally exploded. I had to choose: either run away and possibly run for the rest of my life, or take the biggest risk of my life and face the consequences.”

“And you chose me.”

“I chose you,” I affirm, letting my love for Meshani fill every letter. And then I completely and intentionally shatter the moment by continuing to speak. Flippantly, no less. “Of course, I then had to still deal with the consequences. Ocular overload and subsequent migraine in the office, followed almost immediately by a four day rebuild of the whole system.”

Meshani chuckles at my lighthearted tone. “After which you promptly staggered to my parents’ door and dragged me home with you.”

I smile fiercely. “Four days is a lot of time in which to realize one’s mistakes. I was not about to let you get away after that.”

“I believe you snarled at my sister that if she tried to stop you, there would be a convenient power outage in our building.” Meshani’s voice is dry, though I can see the mirth swirl in him.

“I could have arranged it,” I reply mildly, smirking.

“And then you would have had to fix it, and I would not have seen you for another few days,” Meshani reprimands gently, emphasizing his words with a light swat upon my behind.

I give him a noncommittal noise as a reply at first. “I may not have been in a terrible hurry to fix it. Especially knowing what I do now,” I add suggestively as I trace the outlines of muscle across Meshani’s chest and arm. It elicits a shuddering gasp from him that threatens my control over myself. I subside for now; I am not ready to lose the game yet.

“It was also not quite how I had intended to introduce you to my parents,” Meshani finally manages, though entirely without reproof. 

“I had met your sister already. That was good enough,” I tease.

Meshani chuckles. “Mother was very confused by the whole thing. I remember she tried to invite you in for tea.”

I blink stupidly for a moment. “She did? I do not recall hearing that at all.”

“You were rather focused at the time, my heart,” Meshani reminds me drily. He takes the sting out of his words with an embrace, tightening his arms around me. “But yes, she did. Father thought the whole thing entirely improper. He did not want to raise his voice, but I heard him speaking strongly to Mother as I passed them on the way out to you. Mekariss told me later that she scolded both of them for me, telling them you were not usually like that and reminding them that I was an adult in my own right.”

I frown to myself. “That was rude of me.”

Meshani chuckles. “Honestly, I do not even know how you were still standing upright when you showed up at the door. You had the darkest circles under your eyes I had ever seen, and a full third of what came out of your mouth made no sense. I thought I would have to carry you here, and was expecting to put you into bed and wake you only to spoon a bit of broth into you. Instead, we barely made it into the door before you unleashed that insatiable appetite of yours.” His hand drifts over my skin to emphasize his point, and I feel the trail of heat left in the wake of passing. It is intoxicating. Suddenly, it seems as though I cannot draw breath fast enough. And just that quickly, I am again on the verge of losing control.

I swallow hard, clawing at the shreds of thought before they flee entirely. It is a close thing. But I hang on to myself, stepping back from primal need. I look up to Meshani’s eyes and see him smirking. He knows exactly what he is doing to me. And he knows that I enjoy every moment of it.

Returning to the conversation at that point is one of the hardest things I can do. “Emotion is overwhelming sometimes.” I only vaguely recognize that I have spoken aloud. But I forge ahead, grasping thoughts back to myself, gathering the fragments into coherence reluctantly. “Physically, I get exhausted. But my mind remains full. I have to let it out. Too much of it hurts every bit as much as if I have physically run for hours.”

Meshani is listening intently once more, patient as I struggle to put thought into words. He becomes still save for his breathing, his arms strong as he holds me to himself. 

“I know I have tried to explain in the past, about what I see around me. In the dark, emotion is discreet. Each has a shape and a color and a motion. They blend and merge, but they are distinct things. In the presence of light, it all breaks down. They get muddled and confused. They blend in ways that defy sight. And it hurts to see. The delineations dissolve until there is only a formless, senseless mass. That is ocular overload. My mind is trying to make sense of something which is impossible to make sense of. And so I get the migraines and need to vent off some of it.” 

I pause, and Meshani nods slightly to indicate he is still following my words. 

“Now consider what would happen if I could not vent that excess. It is like a balloon, swelling in my head. The pressure just grows. But there is no place for it to go. The balloon cannot pop once it is over full. It presses against the inside of my perception harder and harder. Emotion builds. Usually, I can release it a small amount at a time through anger, or sadness, or passion. You help me now, but in the past I would find a secluded place and rage, usually for an hour or so, but sometimes more. I once sobbed like an abandoned child for three hours.”

I realize I have balled my hand into a fist upon Meshani’s chest only because he places his hand over mine. With an effort, I force myself to relax once more. It takes some time before I can continue speaking.

“Passion provides the most complete release, I find. It mirrors the build up of that pressure in the first place. Afterward, everything becomes almost still. Colors are suppressed to almost nothing, shapes are softened, and motion is slowed to a near stop. The exhaustion is mental as well as physical, and I feel...empty. But in a good way.”

Meshani nods once more. I tilt my face away from him, bowing my head against his chest, and I interweave my fingers with his.

“Now imagine having such a build up over four days.”

There is an immediate response to my words. Meshani sucks in a sharp breath and I feel him tense up in surprise. I can only nod, confirming.

“Darkness Below…” Meshani swears softly. “I had no idea.”

“No one does,” I reply simply. There is no anger or bitterness in me. It is merely truth. “When I showed up at your door that time, I was out of my mind. The pressure of it was indescribable. I had precisely one thought in my head, and a half formed list of steps for accomplishing it. I did not even know if it would work as I expected. I just knew that if I was going to try a new way to release, it would be with you.”

“New way?” I hear a mix of things in Meshani’s voice: confusion, surprise, and realization are foremost among them. I quirk a hidden smile against his skin. “Wait, you were a…”

I chuckle an interruption. “No one else was exactly lining up, ‘Shani,” I remind him drily. “Remember the part about the screaming in fear and running away? And I did not precisely discourage that, either. It was safer to keep others at a distance.”

“It was obviously our first, but I never imagined it was your first, Tarriq. Especially considering your...uhm...fervor.”

I laugh at his discomfiture, unable to help myself. The sound rings loud in the room, but it is not an ugly thing. “I have never had an overabundance of impulse control, my all. Once I make a decision, I bull ahead with it. Hence why I showed up at your door after four straight days of work and practically dragged you back here by the front of your shirt. After four days to consider, I knew what I wanted, and I was not going to let a little thing like inexperience get in the way.” To prove my point further, I take Meshani’s arm and pull him over onto me as I roll onto my back. My hands close over the small of his back and I hold him to me. “Also, you did not seem to mind.”

Meshani levers his upper body off me, supporting his weight on his knuckles and one knee, looking into my eyes. I realize that is really for the best, as he outweighs me by at least half again my own weight. Not that I particularly care. If the look in his eyes is any indication, I am about to lose our game. I can feel myself responding to just the thought.

“Marry me, Tarriq.”

I blink stupidly once more. “What?” That was not what I was expecting.

Meshani is looking at me with a satisfied grin on his face. “You do not have a corner on impulsivity. Besides, it is something I have been thinking about. So agree to marry me, Tarriq Zar. Or do you want me to make a spectacle of asking you in public like everyone thinks is necessary?”

My mind races for all of two seconds before it slams into a brick wall and thought shatters. Distantly, I realize my mouth is hanging open in shock. I try to fix that, but just end up working my jaw soundlessly. Some spark flickers in my head barely long enough for a cognizant thought to form and I give it voice without pausing to consider what it is.

“Right now?” 

Meshani collapses laughing onto me. “I did not mean to break you, my heart,” he giggles. Giggles! Some part of me wants to be affronted. That part is stupid, I decide. “Although this response was better than anything I could have imagined. I am not certain I have ever seen you at such a loss for words!”

I find myself joining in his laughter. “I am surprised you did not hear the pop as the transformer powering my brain exploded just now.” Meshani laughs harder against me. 

“Was there a shower of sparks?”

“More like chunks of shrapnel, my all.”

And then we both just laugh helplessly for several minutes. It is really quite ridiculous. I love every minute of it.

When finally we wind down, we are both lying on our sides facing each other. Meshani wipes tears of mirth from the corner of my eyes with gentle fingers and I grin at him in reply. 

“So, shall I take that as a ‘yes’, then?” He has a soft smile on his face and I feel myself offer an answering one in reply.

“Yes.” I take his hand in mine and bring it to my lips, brushing a kiss onto his wrist. “No more running. No more loneliness. No more fear.”

“My family will want to know.”

I offer a weak chuckle. “I am very glad they have gotten past their first impression of me. Otherwise I would say to tell Mekariss and let her handle it.”

Meshani laughs at me and kisses my knuckles. “Do you want to be there when I tell them?”

“Do you want me there?” I counter. He nods, his eyes never leaving my own. “Then I will be there. Will you come with me when I tell Grandy?”

“Of course.”

I sigh, and realize that I have never before felt such a sense of contentment. Of security and safety. I rest our clasped hands over my heart. And then I get a mischievous gleam in my eyes.

“You better not expect me to wear a dress.”

Meshani chokes out a laugh. “Tarriq! That is one of the most absurd things you have ever said. Of course not!” He subsides into a soft smile once more. “Though I may insist you wear the violet shirt again.”

I give him a mock pained look. “It fits abominably, though! I look like I am wearing a tent!”

“I will pay to have it tailored, then.” He is unrelenting, giving me his most winsome smile, and I feel even the false affront I try to hold onto unravel. 

A smile quirks up one side of my mouth. “Only for you, my all.”

Meshani leans into our clasped hands then, pressing his chest close until I can feel the gentle pulse of his heartbeat. His mouth seeks mine, questing and soft, and I answer him in kind. I let him set our pace, asking for more, but never pushing. He tempts me, a caress upon my hip, a nip at my neck, small things that test the limits of my self control.

At first, I can tempt him in return. My hands wander, seeking sensitive places where I can elicit a response. But that does not last long. He knows me too well, and can turn my playful attentions into desperate, wanton arousal. Perhaps it is selfish of me, but I crave whatever he will do. It would be so easy for him to abuse that. Trust is a fragile thing. 

But I do trust him, not just with my body, but with my heart as well. And if I am truly honest with myself, I may one day be able to tell him just how much I need him. Not because he is a good cook and a caring bed partner, though he is both of those and more besides. But most importantly, because he brings balance to the raging emotional hurricane in my head. He keeps me sane. 

I wonder if he realizes that without that, the entire city would die.