clocks

10

George

The day drags on out by the lake, out by the rocks and the trees. When the evening rolls in and the sun can no longer be seen over the top of the heads of the trees, we decide to call it quits and head back inside.

Nelly slips away to shower. Dream and I go our separate ways to get changed. I decide to leave the shower in case he wants to use it, I'll shower in the morning.

When I head downstairs after changing, I discover he's already in the living room, amidst our fort that's still standing in the corner of the room. He's sat on the couch, notes and pages out on his lap. I hadn't heard him come downstairs.

The little lamp beside the couch is on, since it's grown dark in the last two hours or so. He's in a jumper, and a pair of black short gym shorts that he usually wears to bed. It's so quiet that I can hear his pen scribbling down against the paper in his lap.

He turns when he hears me in the archway. He's got his glasses on, and his hair is still wet. I stare, it's probably obvious, but I can't seem to be able to tear my eyes away.

"Hey, I thought you were going to shower," he smiles, moving some books off the couch beside him, as if to make space for me. So I take up the space beside him, bringing my legs up onto the couch, being careful not to get too close to him.

"I thought you were going to shower," I answer, smiling back at him. He laughs, and puts the cap on the pen he's holding.

"I showered this morning," he says. "You can go now, if you want."

I shake my head. "No point, I'm already changed, I'll just go tomorrow," I yawn. I'm pretty tired, swimming always knocks the energy out of me, no matter how much I do it I'll always be sleepy afterwards.

He looks at me, like he's considering something, or trying to figure something out without actually having to ask me.

Eventually I feel insecure from the staring, his eyes make me nervous. He looks too good under the orange light, his hair dropped from the wet, his glasses on, I don't like when he stares. It unnerves me.

"What?" I ask him, my head resting against the back of the couch.

"I was going to ask if you could talk," he says kindly. Instead of avoiding his stare, I decide to meet it, just to find that his eyes are soft. "But you seem a little tired," he rushes. "So if you don't want to, then I understand."

He really does see everything, doesn't he? Sometimes I wonder if he can just see through everything, is he like this with everyone? Can he tell how everyone is feeling just from a simple glance, or is it just a me thing?

Sometimes I wish he could see through me, and understand me without me having to explain myself. I wish he could read my mind so I could avoid having to talk to him about all of the hard things that I keep holding back on my tongue.

"It's okay," I tell him, trying to sit up a little straighter, hoping it'll make me look more awake. He looks at me like he doesn't believe me. "It is, I can talk for a bit. I am tired, but not tired enough to sleep yet."

He seems a bit more convinced after that. I watch him shuffle through his papers and lay a few towards the top. "Alright," he says. "But we're calling it quits as soon as those eyes even do so much as droop."

I smile— and relax my head back against the couch now that I know he believes me. Just as I'm closing my eyes, and I can hear him taking the cap off of his pen, a creak in the doorway causes the two of us to turn around.

It's Nelly. She's drying the heavy wet out of her hair with a towel. "Sorry," she says quietly. "Am I interrupting anything?"

I shake my head, and Dream tells her that she isn't. After, she nods, and then just stands awkwardly in the archway like she's waiting for one of us to speak first. I have no idea what's happening, but Dream seems to understand pretty quickly.