A Note Of Fear

SIRI

Prague was beautiful. 

Not the kind of beauty that makes you pause, stare for a while, and move on to the next one. No, Prague has the kind of beauty that has me stopped in my tracks, staring with my jaw on the floor and my eyes wide with wonder. 

I stood in the middle of the pavement, staring at the rows of colorful buildings, the old architecture, the cobblestone streets, and the little cafés tucked between buildings like they had been there forever. The kind of cafés that have depths and memories, the kinds you don't forget so easily. 

Prague has colors, character, and art. 

“Holy shit,” I whispered as I stared at the wonder that was this city. 

Jackson laughed softly from beside me, his hands shoved inside his coat’s pockets. “That’s quite the sophisticated response.”

“Shut up. Look at this place! The beauty! The art!”

“I’m looking.”

I shot him a look. “No, you’re looking at me.”

He didn't even try to deny it. “Yes, and I'm seeing the beauty, the art. Prague seems dull compared to my view.”

I scoffed even as heat flared in my cheeks, and warmth exploded in my chest. “You sound so cocky, man.”

I didn't need to look at him to see his wide smile. “You love it.”

And I didn't bother to deny that, a smile spreading on my face. After everything that has happened in Stockholm, something about standing here felt different. Softer. Less hesitant, and less awkward. It felt like we were no longer tiptoeing around each other, and completely let down both walls. It was nice. 

Jackson reached for my hand. I stared down at it. Then at him. He said nothing, just waited, and my heartbeat picked up as I kept staring into those gray eyes. To anybody else, it seemed like a simple gesture, something you shouldn't make a big deal of. But I knew better. That outstretched hand felt like an offering. An offering I gladly accepted. 

I placed my hand on his, and he immediately closed his fingers around mine, a small smile lifting his lips. 

He opened his mouth, but I didn't give him a chance. “Now don’t say shit and ruin the moment.”

He barked out a laugh, his shoulders shaking. “Bloody hell, you know me so well.” He tugged me closer to him with his hand still on mine, our shoulders touching. “I’ll keep my shit to myself, darling.”

“Thank you very much.”

“For now, at least.”

I rolled my eyes, my cheeks hurting from how much I was smiling as we resumed walking. We walked down the street like that, hand in hand, shoulders brushing together—well, my shoulder brushing against his arm when you think about the height difference—stopping whenever I saw something that caught my eye. And we stopped a lot. 

The smallest, silly things caught my eye: a tiny window; a ridiculous souvenir; a bakery that smelled so good I had to drag him in while he grumbled about eating too much unhealthy food. 

At one point, I caught myself staring down at our joined hands. He caught me staring. 

“You all right, darling?” 

He asked it almost casually, but I noticed the tension crowding around his shoulders.

“Yeah.”

“You’re staring.”

“I am.”

His thumb brushed over my knuckles. “Want me to let go?”

I looked at our hands. My fingers tightened around his. “Don’t you dare.” 

Something changed in his expression. Something tiny that could have been missed if I wasn't staring intensely at him. But I noticed it: the relief. The fucking relief. And I understood suddenly how much that tiny gesture meant to him. And how much those tiny gestures I had refused in the past must have hurt him. 

So I rose onto my tiptoes and kissed his cheek softly. 

“Don’t get used to it, pretty boy,” I said with my cheeks pink as I started walking, not looking back at him, tugging him forward. 

His hand tightened on mine. “Too late, babe.” 

“God, you’re annoying.”

“And you kissed my cheek.”

“Yeah.” I looked down at our hands again. “I guess I did.” 

We were moving to the next spot when a man with a camera suddenly waved at us. 

„Mám vás vyfotit, hrdličky?“ he asked with a bright smile. 

I stared at Jackson, eyebrows furrowed, but he smiled as he answered, „Ano, prosím.”

My eyes almost bulged out of my head, and the bastard just lifted his shoulders in a smug shrug. “I know a bit of Czech.”

“Of course you do. What did he say?”

He just smiled at me, and then dragged me towards the man who was patiently waiting. He placed a hand on my shoulder, that beautiful smile still on his face as he looked down at me and said, “Say cheese, darling.”

Before I could even blink, I heard the click of a camera. I turned to the man with my eyes wide. 

“Whatttt? I wasn't ready, Jackson! Let’s take another!” 

But the man was already walking toward us, holding out two photos. He handed them to Jackson, who took them and started to hand him cash, but the man shook his head. 

„Děkuji vám,” he said, still smiling, and the man nodded, leaving. 

He handed me one of the photos, and I looked down at it, something kicking against my chest. We weren't looking at the camera. No, our eyes were glued together: Jackson with a smile so goddamn wide his eyes were almost closed, and me with a confused furrow in my brows, but a tiny smile on my lips. And my eyes. No, both our eyes were so bright with feelings, with… love. 

I raised my eyes to see him already watching me.

“It’s beautiful,” I whispered, my throat suddenly too tight, and my voice too thick. 

He took my hand, raising it to his lips and placing a soft kiss on it. “It’s perfect.”

There was more than one perfect thing right here, and this feeling between us was one of them. It was so perfect, like a dream, and that’s why there’s this note of fear at the back of my mind. Dreams always ended. And some turned to nightmares.

But I pushed that behind a metal door and slammed it shut, turning all the keys and throwing them into the deep sea. I won't let my fear ruin this beautiful thing between us. 

“Come on,” I said, already walking. “There’s so much to see.”

“Indeed there is. And I know just the next perfect spot.”