Aether and Mathieu’s Apartment
Atlanta, GA
United States of America
February 2017
She staggered out of bed; Aether rubbed her eyes and grabbed at a nearby robe which hung off one of the chairs, sliding it on before moving out of the bedroom. “Mathieu,” she croaked sleepily, squinting into the dark of the living room and making her way through. In her half-asleep state, Aether wondered where he was—they had ended up sleeping next to each other just a few hours before. The lack of warm presence at her side was what made her wake up. Still stumbling, she squinted and rubbed at her eyes yet again until they eventually focused on a figure standing by the window.
Mathieu. She let out a relieved sigh and nearly stumbled to him, almost knocking over something in the process. He jumped at the noise; turned immediately with his eyes wide in alarm until they caught sight of her sleepy self. Mathieu relaxed visibly, pulled her close and wrapped his arms around her waist. “Ma chérie,” he murmured. “You should be asleep.”
“You weren’t there.” Aether closed her eyes as she leaned into his touch, “Woke up and you weren’t there…” He went quiet and merely kept holding her, Aether nearly falling back asleep until she heard him sigh quietly. She was about to open her mouth and speak when he lifted her, carrying her bridal style back to their bedroom. Aether said nothing; while she found it odd that he was just standing by the window in the middle of the night, she wanted to get back to sleep with him at her side.
Before she knew it, she was back on the bed, stripped of her robe. She mumbled his name once again and there came his arms, pulling around her and securing around her waist.
Warmth.
“Go rest, chérie,” he urged quietly. Mathieu pressed his lips to her neck, let them linger before he pulled away. “I’ll be here.”
She fell asleep without much argument.
(Aether thought that he was humming something under his breath while she slept—but that was probably part of a dream she ended up forgetting come morning.)
--
Throughout their relationship, Aether eventually learned that Mathieu would go for days without much sleep right after he’d come back from a mission assigned by Jin-ho. It explained a lot; aside from the physical wounds that he’d easily brush off, there were also much deeper wounds that he couldn’t quite explain or verbalize to her. All it took was him waking up in the middle of the night with a strangled yell and her calming him down, rubbing his back while he kept his face in his hands, and she understood. Despite that, however, Aether never really treated him differently at all. Mathieu didn’t ask her to. There was acknowledgement between them that he needed to recover after the missions, and she would give him just that without coddling him too much.
He’d go without sleep. After they’d mess around and Aether would be comfortably snoozing in his arms after a long session, Mathieu would close his eyes and open them only a few hours after. He’d gently untangle himself from Aether (who seemed to cling tighter when he tried to leave), and would spend time alone in the living room, just staring out the window or sitting down on the couch with his head in his hands. He didn’t know how much time he’d spend there; only when the beginning pinpricks of sunlight would appear did he go back to the bedroom, come back to bed, and try to get some kind of sleep before she’d wake up.
It had happened more than once. Every so often she would find herself waking up alone and would always go to the living room to see if he was there. And he was—Mathieu would be on the couch or he’d be by the window. And she’d always wrap her arms around him, would always sleepily ask him to come back to bed, to get some sleep with her. Mathieu would.
The more it happened, the more she noticed particular details, smaller things he thought she’d overlook due to her sleepiness.
There was him looking guilty. There was a look in his eyes that wasn’t him at all—before he’d look at her, Mathieu would have this certain look of guilt, of regret; his fists would be balled up. If he were on the couch, he’d be breathing harshly into his hands, and when she caught his attention, his eyes would be clouded with hazy regret for a moment before morphing into concern at the sight of her.
That was one thing, at least.
The more peculiar detail, however, took a few more incidents for her to fully catch on to. Before Mathieu would sense her and before she’d even reach out to touch him, he’d be humming a tune under his breath. There wasn’t much singing, not really, until a month or two after when she decided to stay quiet after hearing him singing lyrics softly in the dead of the night.
His voice, low and husky and a little off, made her stop for a moment. Mathieu might have had a decent voice, she realized, if he didn’t sound choked up—
Like he was on the verge of crying.
“Quand il me prend dans ses bras,” she heard, a shaky breath coming right after. She stilled, waited; Mathieu breathed in yet again before continuing, “il me parle tout bas, je vois la vie en rose…” He stopped there and exhaled, releasing a shuddering sigh and digging his face into his hands, muttering something weakly right after—something she couldn’t exactly hear.
She waited a minute or two before reaching out, mumbling a sleepy “Mathieu” which caught his attention. He saw her almost immediately and she took note of the look in his eyes—guilty, regretful, mourning—she was almost going to open her mouth and ask if he was okay when he stood up, made his way to her, and tugged her back to the bedroom just as he always did.
For a moment, she wondered if she should bring it up, ask what he was doing. But Mathieu looked exhausted and guilt-ridden, very much tired that she chose to keep it aside for the moment. She heard him mumble a “sleep, Aether” and she did, but did so while being unable to remove the memory of his shaky singing from her mind.
The following morning, Mathieu left for a while; he had explained that he needed to do something with Jin-ho and she agreed. Once he had left, she immediately got on her laptop and looked up the four words which stuck: la vie en rose. Within a couple of minutes, she was looking up various covers and versions of the song online; apparently it was a French song that had gained popularity since the 1940s. Within a few hours, she could get down the English translation as long as she had lyrics as reference. Aether found herself singing quietly until Mathieu came home, to which she stopped immediately and welcomed him back with a warm hug.
The following week went a little smoother than usual; he was sleeping a little more, smiling more than he had been. And Aether thought that it was okay, that he was moving past the pain and whatever feelings he had—
At least until a bit over ten nights later. She woke up again to the sound of pacing; Aether rubbed her eyes and got out of bed, sliding on the same robe that was left on the chair. Upon reaching the living room did she find him pacing, face in his hands and looking even more distressed than he had been the past couple of weeks. He was barely okay, that was obvious. Mathieu had stopped, back facing her, and inhaled deeply while trying to sing to himself but being unable to do it completely.
Aether then took a deep breath, approached him quietly from behind. When Mathieu was about to start pacing once again, she pulled her arms around his waist and hugged him tightly from the back. He sucked in a breath, opened his mouth to manage a weak “Aether”, but she opened her mouth and started to sing.
He quieted immediately. Her voice was soft, hesitant; Aether got through almost half of the song until she realized that he had gone quiet, that he was biting his lip.
When she looked up, there were tears rolling down his cheeks. She stopped immediately, face falling and she hugged him tightly, whispering “I’m sorry, I’ll stop singing” before he shook his head. Mathieu turned so that he could face her, pulled his arms around her waist and shakily pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “I’m sorry,” she apologized in a smaller voice.
“No,” he whispered, and pressed another kiss to her head. “No, Aether…keep—keep singing. Please keep singing,” he repeated, almost begging at that point. Unable to say anything, she could only nod; Aether picked up where she left off, Mathieu closing his eyes and she reaching up, cupping his cheek in her hand as she did so. She sang the rest of the song to him, managing to somehow pick up confidence as she did.
“Give your heart and soul to me, and life will always be—la vie en rose,” she ended eventually. He opened his eyes and yet again tears came; she wiped them away with her thumb and whispered his name as if calling his attention. “Mathieu…”
“Thank you.” He held her even tighter, if possible. His hands were shaky and somehow he had managed to calm down, though there was still a certain look in his eyes which couldn’t be shaken off. “Merci, Aether…it—it means a lot,” he admitted quietly. She nodded. “I—I think I can sleep.”
“Are you sure?”
“Please.” He met her eyes and he managed the tiniest of smiles, “I’ll explain it in the morning, I promise. I just…I want to sleep.”
She agreed. He didn’t carry her back this time; instead, they walked together hand-in-hand until they got to bed. Aether immediately moved into his arms and Mathieu held her tightly, the latter suddenly feeling the weight of sleep hang over his eyes. “Thank you,” he repeated again, voice softer and fainter as if he were struggling to stay awake.
Instead of responding, she merely kept her head in his chest.
Mathieu managed to sleep a little more easily that night.
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