JOE AND DIANNE ONESHOTS.

DEPARTURE TO AUSTRALIA.

JOES POV:
Beep. Beep. Beep. The alarm clock situated on our bedside table thundered it's persistent wake-up call into the atmosphere, acquiring an agitated groan from the sleepy individual curled next to me. Without the necessitate demand of observing her, my sealed eyelids dismissing the sunlights beams typical for a June morning transecting the practically transparent curtain split, the scuffling stemming from a body part moving against the fabric preceded the striking of her palm against this machine in a triplet beat melody, a universal internal pray that this vicious attack would be adequate enough to silence it without proceeding into further actions. Feeling her head collapse back into the pillow with a thud, I steadily adjusted my resting position to mirror her own incase of remaining frustration. As my slow opening eyes modified to the naturally illuminated room, Dianne came into focus and it still amazed me to this day how she managed to appear the most beautiful woman even with hours of sleep.

Her upper body stance replicated my own almost identically - the mattress' usual delve of our body's silhouette adjusted to the sideways position adapted, one arm coiled into a curl to form a gap for our heads to slot into, in the process numbing this limb and it's extensive of fingers. Yet, on closer inspection her lower body resembled an entirely different picture than decipted on first glance - her legs were nestled into her chest, her knees slightly peeking over the white covers edge whilst her chin was able to lean upon the level surface, this naive ball pose granting her an even cuter appearance. Her nest of apricot tresses were compiled together into a ponytail dangling at the bottom of her neck, held loosely by the use of a green scrunchie yet sneaky strands managed to desert the close companionship to cascade the sides of her face in an abseil and curve directly underneath her chin. The thick comforter, a useless purchase in the Summer period, emerged useful on this occasion for their density was a disguise to her older set of pyjamas that had become practically non-existant to her once the new sets arrived on our doorstep.

My hand braved the crisp morning-glacial to gently tuck a strand of tangerine tresses behind her ear, this simple delicate touch evoking her radiant smile across her lips that unveiled her failed attempt of recapturing her somnolent unconscious.
"Good morning sleepyhead," I verbalised the first communication between two sleepy individuals seemingly in a whisper, my faint utterance a prudent aim to perhaps forestall any pain to her ears with a sharp sound, but a consequence to our obtained tranquility during sleep, almost any word expressed within the nearest hour would appear in an exclaimatory form. "Morning Joey.." she responded to my typical morning gesture with her unique nickname for myself, this small sentiment a heartwarming cherishment forfeitable on a usual occasion but shall be missed dearly over our separation period. Creating a ruffling sound against the mattress' fabric, her body furled into my close vicinity; physically countering her seem for a cuddle by binding my arms around her little frame in a belt form, tenderly attaching my lips to her forehead and lingering for a few moments longer. This moment consumed by utter peace, the diurnal creatures reemerging into our universe from their lengthy resting period, reenacting morning callings to their friends residing across the fence, whilst the woman I love is safely embraced in a tight snuggle - a moment considered by true romantics as perfection that not one silly mistake or remark could alter.

Yet, despite deep consideration into the likelihood that perhaps half of her body was still grasping at whatever strings surviving to tug her back into the night, a place that was neither accustomed to the hustling of a working day or familiar with the squeaking bird calls, there was still apart of Dianne absent from the morning setting that was simply perceived from the matter of her aura. Every morning, whether our sky is experiencing a troubling incident and produces a torrential downpour onto it's citizens or there is a joyous heavenly occasion that the sun must shine upon us, whether the calendar narrates yet the beginning to another week or ecstatic revelation that the weekend is among us, the routine remained in its same mundane fashion - to our awakening, there was a cuddling session at which the strange fantasies our mind formulates on a nightly basis were told to our other half with perhaps an exchange in a kiss before Dianne's addiction to caffeine was transforming her into a grumpy monster and she must bid good morning to her other lover, our coffee machine that appears to have a halo surrounding it's head from her view point. However she lay entirely silent, not one muscle adjusting it's position, her fingers clutching to the thin fabric of my pyjamas as though her mind is afraid that in a blink of an eye I may vanish into nothingness, abandoning her to cope alone.