My Sunshine [Lana and Zalgiman]

It hadn't been a terrible trip. The way down from Boston and across the bridges is always a long drive, but it's worth it for the scenery. Towering pines that line the highway eventually give way to scenic views of the ocean, and then the scenic views of the ocean turn into the breathtaking sort of beach views that have been captured on film and turned into postcards for a century.

Knowing that the house that they live in is massive, one might expect for the Branfeax residence in Truro, not far from the National Seashore and right on the shore of a private beach, to be a sprawling estate as well. But when the driver drops off Zalgiman and Lana at their destination, all that's in front of them is a small cottage, the exterior a gray-and-white Colonial-style house whose wooden planks have clearly been exposed to salt-stained winds for quite some time. A short path leads down from the house through grass-laden sand dunes down to the shoreline.

"This was where my parents spent their honeymoon," Lana explains to Zalgiman as she goes to open the front door with a turn of keys that have a little anchor charm attached to the keyring–a set of keys Zalgiman's seen hanging in the house but never corresponded to anything until now. "My mother liked this little cottage so much that they bought it. I pay someone to keep it clean and secure."

The house, or more accurately the cottage, was small enough from the exterior that to Zalgiman's sensibilities it wasn't nearly as intimidating as her usual house. In fact, it looked comfortable enough that if this is where he'd come initially, he might have been far less intimidated. Now though, he followed her comparing the two locations in his mind with a bit of curiosity as to what kind of people could live in such a large house some of the time only to come and stay in a place this little.

"It's very lovely." It was true, but he wasn't sure what to say about the fact that Lana had not one but two houses. He had been living in little more than an apartment. He found himself wondering if it had already been sold.

Lana smiles at him as the door opens and gives way to... What appears to be half of the cottage, really. There's a small living area with a couch and a flat-screen TV on the wall, and then there's a tiny kitchenette with a gas stove, a sink, some cabinets, and a fridge–and one dining table with just three chairs. The whole place has a very economical approach to the space, somehow managing to fit as much as possible into the open space without it feeling terribly crammed.

"I forgot to tell you," she says. "There's only one bedroom, and one bathroom–but the couch actually is a pull-out couch. That's where I would sleep when I was little." She gives a tentative look at the bedroom. "I, umm..."

She stares at the bedroom door a moment longer before she shivers a little, despite the fact it's summer, and while Cape Cod enjoys a relatively cool summer temperature–it's not cold enough for her to freeze like this. "I'm flexible," she concludes, flushing a little as she finds herself suddenly looking down at the floor. She means the sleeping arrangement, right?

Zalgiman walks into the living room, the cozy space making him feel more at home than all the Russian snacks that Lana had purchased to ease him into living in America. In truth though, he'd packed a goodly number of them in his suitcase to come here. If he closed his eyes, and if he opened a few windows to let in the cool air from outside... It might even feel entirely comfortable.

He freezes as she speaks, every thought of being comfortable filtering out of his mind as he looks at the couch. The dark-haired man clears his throat and places his suitcase by the couch. "I'll sleep here." It's not firmly stated, but more almost a request. He glances at her uncertainly.

There's a blink from Lana as Zalgiman requests the couch. She turns to look at him. "Are you sure?" she asks. "I bet the bed in the bedroom's more comfortable. I mean, I slept fine on that couch for years, and I think the property manager's replaced the mattress for both the pull-out bed and the bedroom. I just want you to be comfortable, Zal."

Lana gives him a small smile, like she's not offering him the nice bed in the house that she technically owns. "I'm fine with taking the couch bed if you want the nicer bed."

Zalgiman shifts his feet looking at the couch. It's not that he's uncertain of where he wants to sleep, but he's not sure really if she wants him in the bedroom. For... reasons. "I'm sure." He says quietly, hoping that she'll accept this. He nudges the suitcase with his toe and then glances out the window.

"What do you want to do for the rest of the day? Is there food here?" He finds himself purposefully trying to change the subject and wandering toward the kitchen to reinforce this.

There's a note on the fridge that's tucked underneath a magnet of a lobster (why the focus on lobsters? They'd been at the airport and now here, too?). It reads:


And as promised, there's a list of restaurants and their phone numbers, as well as the type of cuisine they offer. It's mostly seafood, but there are two pizza places and, blissfully, a Chinese place that also has a few stars by the note. Apparently Rini's favorite.

"Well, I could get ready, and we could go walk out on the beach together, maybe?" Lana offers as she goes and wheels her own suitcase into the bedroom, opening the door. It's a small bedroom, but the queen-size bed with its downy-looking comforter is certainly a more tempting prize than the couch–even if the couch boasts a pull-out bed of its own. There's a mote of something uncertain in Lana's voice, however, with her offer. "And I think my food delivery app works out here, too. I just have to key in the address." Poor Rini's note goes unnoticed by 'the lady of the house' for the moment.

The note is noticed immediately, and in spite of the urge to destroy it before Lana can see it, he simply checks over the cupboards for any sort of food that might be there. There look to be a few shelf-stable options, but not really much in the way of anything that would be easy to throw together. The fridge is entirely empty save a pitcher of water. "It looks like we'll have to do some grocery shopping while we're here."

He hasn't seen her go grocery shopping yet, but he can't imagine that anywhere would be willing to deliver out here... Though he could be wrong. Money solves many ills. "Are there any restaurants within walking distance?"

"That won't be hard," Lana responds as she hefts her suitcase onto the bed and unzips it. "The grocery shopping, that is. I get my groceries through the same app that delivers our food–so long as someone's picking up orders, someone will be willing to get our groceries for us. And I read online that a lot of delivery people love picking up orders on Cape Cod in the summer because people like me tend to tip generously. So, just have to attach a big tip and someone'll do it." Just as Zalgiman suspected–money solves many ills.

But she does pause when Zalgiman asks about restaurants in walking distance. In truth, she'd put off 'their first real date' at that restaurant she'd imagined them dining in because she just felt... so un-ready for it. That things needed to be perfect before she could. That... she needed to be perfect. And she isn't, so–

"Umm, let me find out," she says, turning away from her suitcase and somewhat mindlessly walking into the kitchen, although her eyes are trained on her phone and therefore she still misses the 'romantic getaway' note. She taps on her mapping app and squints a little from underneath her glasses–

"Oh! There's a grill that's right down the street from here. And they have outdoor seating." Somehow this feels easier to do than the fancy restaurant. No walls means she doesn't feel trapped. And the photos show people in T-shirts, bikinis, shorts, sandals–which means no dress code. No need to be perfect. Just be hungry.

"I think I can manage that so long as he's here," she murmurs quietly, thinking entirely out loud.

"As long as who is here?" Zalgiman asks curiously, closing the fridge and making his way over to where she's standing so that he can get a look at what she's looking at on her phone. "Are we meeting someone here?" He could feel his stomach twisting at the very thought of having to interact with someone else for more than a handful of minutes.

Lana almost immediately flushes when Zalgiman asks the first question, and she holds her phone a little closer to herself even though it's only on the overview page for the grill. "Did I say that out loud?" She looks up at Zalgiman with extreme reluctance in her eyes. "I, umm..."

She trembles. It doesn't make any sense for her to do so. Her eyes wander back to her phone, but truth be told, she doesn't even register what's on the screen anymore. "Please don't make fun of me," she eeks out after a moment. "I–I have a really hard time going places or leaving the house... unless it's with you." It's such a shy little confession. She almost looks like she wants to cry.

For a very long moment while she's trembling, and stuttering over her words, Zalgiman's thoughts delve into some truly dark places. He thinks, that there must be someone else that he's supposed to meet. Someone that she's been hiding from him until now. Someone who'll have their own expectations of him. Particularly her reluctance to say it makes him uncomfortable, and part of him can't shake this feeling of being sick to his stomach that lingers even when she admits that she doesn't like to leave the house... without him. "Me?"

He blinks at the words and tries to fit that thought inside his understanding of the new world that he's found himself thrust into. Finally he reaches out and touches her gently on the shoulder. "Even if I'm here... you don't have to go out if you don't want to. There's a list of places on the fridge that deliver. We can eat here."

The moment he touches her shoulder, she stops trembling. She closes her eyes, and a tiny little tear slips down from her eyes.

Without thinking he reaches out to catch the tear before it can fall down her face, gently wiping it away with the soft pad of his thumb. "Did I say something wrong?"

Immediately, she shakes her head, and her violet eyes open to look up at him. They're a little red at the edges, slick with the threat of more tears, but she's smiling anyway. "No," she says. "You're just–so kind to me. It was how I fell in love with you to begin with, even though I'm... like this." Her last phrase has such an unhappy little note to it. It's clear that she hates that she can't go outside or leave the house on her own.

"There's nothing wrong with you Lana." He gives her a reassuring smile and reaches out with his other hand so that he's holding her face in both. "I have things that make me feel afraid too. Everyone does. So we'll take small steps. If you feel up for leaving, we can go for a little while. If you don't; we stay here and and just relax after a long day of being in the car."

She closes her eyes again, but it's like when a cat closes its eyes because someone's petting both cheeks at once. She even leans slightly into one of his hands. This is what she's needed for so long, she feels. Someone to say such loving words to her and to hold her and say that everything will be okay, and that she can take things slow and at her own pace.

A part of her knew that he would. He's her promised one, after all. Meant to save her from her worst self and the shadows that follow her. She loves him so much more now in this moment than ever. He loves me for real.

"Can we go for a walk on the beach and then decide?" she asks after a moment of simply basking in the warmth of his hands. Her eyes gently open again like a flower towards the sun. "I was really looking forward to getting to walk on the sand with you." Another little confession, this time paired with a small smile.

"Just so long as you promise me that you'll let me know if you get uncomfortable or want to come back, okay?" Zalgiman smiles down at her. Moments like this, it's easier to be here with her, because it's easy to feel like this is a natural thing. Protecting others has always come easily to him. She deserves it. She might be the first one he's ever protected that did.

Lana nods a little in his hands, and then, reluctantly, because those hands are a blessed balm that melts away all of the darkness hiding in her heart, she turns away from him, back to her bedroom door. "I'll change," she says. "But it'll take me a bit. I have to apply sunscreen. You should, too–the sun's not nice to pale people like us."

And I have to apply a fair bit, if the images online of the swimsuit I bought are accurate, she thinks to herself as she closes the bedroom door behind her. She opens up her suitcase again to see the little shipping envelope, entirely unopened, that she'd thrown in with the rest of her clothes. She had been so nervous about getting it to begin with that she hadn't even opened it to look at it. "It's just a swimsuit," she tells herself, taking a little breath. It won't bite her.

She opens it and a yelp leaves her. Maybe it will! she thinks to herself.

Zalgiman is halfway to his own suitcase when he hears the little yelp and his first thought is - intruder! - so he rushes toward her door and then hesitates. "Lana? Are you okay? Is there someone in there with you?" He has his hand on the handle, halfway deciding that he should just open the door... just in case. "Or... A spider maybe?"

The door opens and... there's Lana holding the bottom half of a bikini in her hands. Thankfully, she's not in a state of undress, but she is blushing brightly. "S-S-S..."

She gulps. "Too sexy," she finally manages. "I can't wear this! I ordered it online, thinking it would look cute, but... But..."

In truth, looking at the bottom it does look small, but not like it'll show off more skin than one might expect a bathing suit to. In truth he hadn't been really thinking about what she might wear outside, but now... He can't help but imagine her in the little outfit that she's holding and he... "Well..." He glances back toward the top and blinks then at the little piece of cloth she's holding. "You don't have to wear it now? We're just going for a walk right?"

He shifts his feet, uncomfortable but now for an entirely different reason. "But... I think you'd look very nice in it. It'll match your eyes."

Lana looks up at him, eyes widening with surprise. "You think I would?" she asks, and a sudden excitement lights up in those violet eyes of hers that match the bikini outfit. "I mean, I ordered it for you, so–"

Her face flushes again. "For me to wear for you! You wouldn't fit in this." Idiot! Be more clear when you're talking! she rebukes herself mentally. But she also rallies again inwardly. He wants to see you wear it! You can do it! You can wear the sexy swimsuit!

"Even if it's just a walk on the beach, I thought it might be nice," Lana explains herself. "That, and it'd be rude to make you come all the way down here with me and..." She doesn't even know how to explain that all the advice columns she read said that 'giving your man a little eyecandy will make sure that he loves you'. She's pretty certain she's not supposed to disclose that. "I'll go change in the bathroom."

He laughs a little gently at her 'joke' and it makes his silver eyes shine. "You do not have to step outside your comfort zone for me Lana. Do what makes you happy." He turns away, starting toward his suitcase. He'd packed his own swimwear - a much more reasonable piece of attire - of course, but he hadn't actually thought about putting it on until now. "Should I change also? In case you want to go into the water?"

"Probably a good idea!" Lana agrees, although she's not fully thinking about the idea of Zalgiman in a swimsuit. If she was, she might have died of bloodloss on the floor in the bathroom, but thankfully for everyone involved, she simply spirits herself away into the bathroom to change.

Despite Zalgiman telling her that she doesn't have to, it only emboldens her to try it on. And while she does fidget and inwardly fuss about how much skin she's exposing... When she looks at herself in the mirror, she's surprised at herself. It's a cute swimsuit! It's a cute swimsuit on her! It's a miracle in that regard. She quickly applies sunscreen in all the appropriate places (although she applies a little too much on her face that she doesn't fully rub in, so her nose is snow-white for it) and then opens the door with a wide smile. "Ta-da~"

Zalgiman had made quick work of changing while she applied her sunscreen in the bathroom, and is standing in front of the bathroom door when she opens it. He smiles widely on auto-pilot only for his eyes to go wide in shock a half-second later seeing her in her swimsuit. She's radiant. Not just because of the slim lines of her body on display, but the wide comfortable smile on her face and the way her eyes sparkle with joy to show him the outfit.

He's rendered absolutely dumbfounded for a moment, forgetting that he's supposed to ask her for the sunscreen next, or that he himself is wearing just a pair of gray and black swim trunks. Contrary to many American-style swim trunks however his are short and close-fitting to his body. More like what swimmer might wear though not quite as revealing. Even so, his muscles are on full display... And so too is the healing cut on his shoulder or rather the bandage that he's still wearing to cover it up. At least, the rest of his injuries have faded in nearly their entirety.

Lana watches his face as Zalgiman looks at her, and she worries, for a moment, that he doesn't like it after all, even if she, herself, thought it was cute after trying it on. And then... she makes the mistake of looking south.

She slaps her hands to both sides of her face, shutting her eyes. That helps her stop the first thing that comes to mind. It doesn't help stop her from saying the second thing that comes to mind. "Wreck me."

And then she sputters. "I mean–I'm a wreck! Gosh!" Her eyes open again and she looks at Zalgiman, pointedly on his face. "I know I've told you before, Zal, but... Wow. You're amazing."

"Me?" His Russian accent is so thick for a moment that it almost sounds like another word. He blinks and looks down at himself then shrugs, eyes sliding away. "It is you that looks amazing Lana. You do not look the wreck at all."

Lana doesn't know if she should try to teach him what she meant or if she should simply be thankful that he didn't understand and move on. She wonders idly if he knows much in the way of English-language euphemisms for... well, for mature content, and while she imagines he knows a bit from American movies and TV shows, something like what she'd murmured could go easily without being understood.

She elects not to tell him. This will have consequences later, she's sure, but she can't bring herself to even bring up that without possibly dying first. Instead, she tries to persuade her brain to do or say something. Anything besides stare at him with a big, dumb smile on her face.

Sunscreen.

"Umm, I could help you with the sunscreen?" Her eyes dart south again. That was the wrong thing to ask and the wrong thing to do. Inwardly she panics. Stupid! Now he'll think you're a pervert!!

Thankfully for her, he's still staring at the wall and entirely misses her downward glance. He shrugs, feeling oddly despondent all the sudden. It's the thought that he looks nice, or 'amazing' as she'd put it. He feels awkward in his skin, like it's not true. In a logical sense he's always known that he's considered handsome, but it's never been something that he felt strongly about. What good did it do him?

"Sure." He says the word softly, a small twitch of his lips moving and he turns his back to her. "I have some trouble reaching places on my back anyway."

He. He's letting her. He's letting her touch him. And... To spread the sunscreen on him. He's letting her do that? How? Why? What gods in the world have blessed Lana enough for her promised one to agree to this?

"I'll be quick," she manages to say after gathering enough air in her lungs to manage it. She goes for it. Little squirt of sunscreen on her hands. She remembers, idly, a little tip her mother gave her when she was younger. Rub the sunscreen a little in your hands first and it won't feel so cold. She does it now because she doesn't want to upset him or make him uncomfortable in any way. Tentatively, slowly, like she's afraid she might scare him the moment her hands make contact with his skin, her hand moves in.

And she touches him right in between his shoulderblades. It felt like a safe place to... start with. "L-let me know if you're uncomfortable?" she suggests.

"Your hands are warm." He says instead, sounding surprised. He'd always put the lotion on directly - himself - never having had someone do it for him. So the lotion had always been a bit on the cold side when he applied it. "Thanks for doing this... It'd be strange if I got a sunburn in the middle of my back."

There's a mantra in Lana's head as she begins to work, applying more of the sunscreen lotion to his skin and working it in a bit so it doesn't immediately disappear if they opt to go into the waves together. Don't be weird. Don't be weird. Don't be weird. Don't be weird. Don't be–

"I should probably have you get my upper back too," she comments. "I know I burn really easily. Can you imagine? I'd go home all red and peeling like a lobster."

That's such an attractive mental image. Good job. You're really killing it out there. She wants to crawl into a hole and die. Or go sleeping with the lobsters. Either one works.

"When I was very small, I got them all the time." Zalgiman says quietly as she applies the sunscreen. "My father, he didn't do this sort of thing for me and it took a few summers for me to realize that I should do it myself."

He's silent for a moment. "I think it's been a few years since I actually have gone swimming. Pools are more comfortable back home, and... there aren't really many where I'm from."

The fact that he's not rebuking her for her chatter is striking on its own–not that he would, as he's kind and that's part of why she loves him, but it's that quiet way he talks. About his father, about his childhood. Lana works more solidly then, getting into an easy rhythm without the mantra rattling in her brain. They're talking. His body is his body. It's somehow easier now.

She frowns a little, not that he can see. "I'm sorry," she says gently. "About your childhood. It must have been painful to get sunburnt all the time. If you were closer to me then..."

Then what? You wouldn't have had to pay seven figures for him? What are you even saying? These are the things her brain might have shouted at her. But in the moment of that quiet calm between the two of them, there's only one thought on her mind.

"We would have been friends, and I would have invited you over every day." It's a poor consolation prize. Friends with her? But she almost wishes that's how it would have happened. That he didn't have to live half a world away and spend so many years without knowing her. So many years of her not knowing him. She understands that he was promised to her for all those years of torment, a light to save her from the dark so that she would cherish him forever, but did it have to be that way?

Zalgiman shifts under her hands at last. Just a subtle tension running through his shoulders. He's not pulling away. "You wouldn't have liked me." He sounds oddly certain about that. His eyes drift out the window he can see through from here. "I'm not even sure what makes you like me now."

It hurts a little in some way to hear him say both the first and the last sentences. Lana wonders if... Maybe this was why they were meant to be. Because he sounds like some of her own thoughts about herself. He may love her, but he doesn't understand why she would love him, because he can't see how wonderful he is.

Her hands go up his back and rest on that valley between the neck and the shoulders, a spot that she rubs a little in an affectionate fashion. She's no massage therapist, but she read it was a good thing to do for a boyfriend when he's stressed. "At first it was your kindness," Lana begins gently. "The way you smiled at me. Hold doors. Hug me. Tell me such nice things about myself. The fact you never, ever judged me even though I was a lonely loser paying for someone to talk to me. I fell in love during our first date. I only fell more in love the more we met and the more you were kind to me."

She pauses a little in her recounting of her thoughts. Somehow it's easy to talk about this now. It's in the past. He loves her for real. They can look back on it and smile a little–even though it really wasn't that long ago. "I've been a lonely person for a really long time," she says softly. "But going on all of those dates with you–I started to feel confident in myself, bit by bit. Enough to leave the house and deposit checks at the bank. I used to hold onto a bunch of them and call my lawyer to deposit them for me. But because of you, I can. No one else could ever do that for me."

Her eyes half-lid. "That's how I know I love you," she says, her hand stilling on his skin. "That's how I know you're..."

My soulmate. Her throat feels tight. She realizes it's because of the tears in her eyes. She doesn't know why she's crying. Why she can't say it. She just can't, because suddenly she's... Afraid? Of how he might react.

He turns toward her, the sound of her voice telling him that there's something wrong. The truth is that he'd been sitting there the whole time with his eyes closed, trying to understand why she'd say such things to him. He didn't deserve this kind of thing that she was offering. None of this kindness was something he'd earned. Then he see's that she's crying and all thoughts of turning aside her gentle words flies from his head. He turns to her and gathers her into his arms. He remembers every time he's wept knowing that there was no one to hold him. How he'd taught himself to cry less. Cry silently. So that no one would ever know and hate him for his weakness. He'd taught himself to be harder, but he'd also taught himself that no one cared.

He holds her gently, sinking his face into her curly hair and breathing in the lavender scented perfume that she seems to favor. And underneath that the scent of her which is not familiar yet. It's a soft thing. "All my life, I have loved with all my heart, and wanted desperately for someone to care. But no one ever did. Not until you Lana. Not until you. You are the kindness. You tell me nice things about me. Things that I have never heard before, and in your voice I begin to believe them. You do not judge me. Do not hurt me. I will tell you a secret."

There's a moment of silence as he presses his forehead into her hair. "I have expected such terrible things. I have had such terrible thoughts. But you have been so good, and I do not feel deserving, but I will try to be. Because you deserve it Lana. You deserve so much more."

She listens so openly. The only interruption she gives him is the soft sound of her breathing through her tears, the little hitch of air on the wobble of her throat, from time to time. Trying to avoid sobbing. She doesn't want to fall apart in his arms, not when he proves to her so thoroughly why she loves him again–not when he proves to her so thoroughly that they are soulmates who are meant to be.

Even though her hands are caked in sunscreen lotion, she goes to return that hug, her arms wrapping around his body. She feels her heartbeat going so quickly inside of her. He loves her. She loves him. She doesn't even think about the fact he hasn't said the exact words 'I love you' to her since he fell asleep on that video call with her.

"I don't deserve you either, but I love you way too much to ever want you away from me," she whimpers. "I love you. I–"

There's so many things she could say to follow that 'I'. I want to spend the rest of my life with you. I want to grow old with you. I want to get married. I want to, I want to, I want to–and all the variations thereof where 'want' is replaced with 'need', because it would be just as true.

She changes it instead. "You are my sunshine," she tries to sing weakly. She knows the chance of him knowing an American folk song is slim, but it's how she feels. "Do you know that song?"

"My only sunshine." He replies, his voice thick and not just from his accent. "You make me happy, when skies are gray." He remembers the song from an old memory. Hearing a singer on the street performing the song in bouts of Russian and English.

A smile blooms on Lana's face to hear him finish it–except for the next verse. "You'll never know, dear, / How much I love you / So please don't take my sunshine away," she sings softly, her arms squeezing him gently on its conclusion. "I didn't ever think we could be like this. Together, for real. Happy, for real. In love, for real. I'm... I'm so happy, Zal."

For the first time, her saying it doesn't fill him with a sense of dread. If he were to think about it, he's still not totally comfortable with their relationship for many reasons. But no one has ever been this good to him. This kind. And she makes him want... to be better. It's not the childish need for affection that had driven him as a child striving for his father's love. It's not the near-insane worship that he'd devoted to Marsward. It's something more fragile. Something more tender and new but... "I love you too Lana. You make me happy, and I do not want anything to take you away."

Lana squeezes him a little more for saying it, just holding onto him. She feels so warm inside. The tears are now less like leaks of the uncertainty and pain she holds inside of her–because she's held onto them since the day her parents had the accident, the day that her mother was pronounced dead–and more tears of gratitude. That she's alive. That she made it far enough to be here. That she found him. That he found her. That he's alive. That he made it far enough to be here.

Together.

It's a long moment before she even thinks of speaking. It's enough to be held. Enough to feel his love in the way he holds her, enough to be told the words she once only dreamed of hearing so genuinely. Her promised one.

One day she'll get enough nerve to tell him that he is. For now, she murmurs, "Let's go on that walk."

And then she adds, "I want to hold your hand the entire time." Because it's true.