Ben has taken to sleeping on the side of the bed with the door closest to him, and Lochlan has taken to holding my head cupped against his neck like he's always done, affectionate to a fault, rubbing his fingers through my boy-haircut but never actually letting go, content to breathe in tandem with me, content to not have me out of reach, or rather out-of-arms. It's a defensive mechanism that serves as a visual reminder but doesn't do any more to keep me safe or to keep Caleb from glowering nonstop.
We still lock the door at night, but Ben serves as a volunteer extra-measure of security. It also keeps me from leaving to wander the halls when I can't sleep. Now I have to lie there and count the stars on the ceiling, if I can see the ceiling. Or count the freckles on the Lochlan as usually I'm looking that way. Ben's a whole cage with two arms that surround us both and he's so content to just be close and watch the clouds and sip tea and talk books and movies, whereas the Ben of the mid-2000s had to be flying/driving/running somewhere/doing something/someone and he never slowed down for a second. I really love mellow Ben but then again I always have and I often reach up and tug his too-long black curls now, as he has let them grow out to like four inches and they just start flipping and he looks so young again, save for the dark circles under his eyes and the habitual frustrated expression.
Lochlan and Caleb are ignoring each other. It's new to me. It's not new to them but Caleb's still on his best and Loch has chosen not to waste his energy when he knows he's got the upper hand and the rights besides.
And again it's not a bunny-year as no one replaced the costume and no one wants to give out eggs when we don't feel like celebrating life after death or spring or anything really. We're saving our energy for May, which is proving to be a packed month, and we're saving our resolve for this impending threat too which rings hollow but is probably still somewhat true.