O brave new world

Untitled Part 12

So, I keep seeing questions as to what exactly is going on with Sang's throat. Now I'm not quite sure if I'm bad at dropping clues or you have to brush up on your detective skills, but you should actually already know... I'm looking forward to see who figures it out first :)

Poughkeepsie came by for a visit in the middle of the night and the two of us watched nature put on a show for us. The wind howled, the trees swaying this way and that as lightning lit up the sky for a second before plunging it into darkness once again. Then the rain came, drumming against the windowpane in a beautiful symphony. It's my favorite lullaby and it almost lulled me to sleep. Note the almost – I'm still awake. I am never going to sleep again because I almost died from not being able to breath when I woke up. And I know it will happen again – my throat always hurts after sleeping.

The sky is a perfect pale grey-blue now. All the clouds cleared out after the storm and the sun is about to rise. And this time, I want to get the whole experience.

I tiptoe over to the open bedroom door and peek out. Blond shaggy hair is resting against the wall on the opposite side of the hallway. Luke.

I slip out of the room and try to head over to the stairs, but his eyes flutter open as I pass him.

- Good morning, sunshine. You're up early. Shouldn't you want to sleep longer after being awake for two days?

I poke my finger at my lips, not knowing what to say. I didn't sleep; but should I tell him? I don't really want to 'cause they'll just try to force me to sleep, but I don't want to lie either.

Luke raises an eyebrow at me.

- Did you not sleep?

I give a short, jerky nod.

Luke gives a deep sigh and stands up fluidly. It's beautiful to watch, really. It kind of reminds me of the videos I've seen of dancers.

- You've got to sleep, cupcake. But, since you're up anyway... Do you want breakfast or was there something else on your agenda?

My eyes dart over to the stairs. I wanted to go outside, but this isn't my house. I don't belong here. I feel like an intruder every time I take in its perfection and an action as simple as going outside feels like it's forbidden, like I need written permission first.

- Come on, Sang, spit it out!

I flick my eyes between him and the stairs. Mostly him, because his shirt is half open. His chest certainly looks different from mine. I also have this unnerving urge to run my hands all over it.

- You can do it, Sang! I'm listening.

With a sigh, Luke grabs my hands and begins forming words:

- I... want... to...

-... go outside.

I finish the sentence on a daring impulse, than wait, trembling. What if I'm not supposed to want that?

- See, Sang, that wasn't too hard, now was it? Let's go outside then. Why don't you leave the cat here, though?

Luke reaches for the sleeping Poughkeepsie in my arms. She cracks open an eye and glares at him. He jumps back, arms raised to shield off an attack.

- All right. Maybe you should keep her. Let's go!

I follow him down the stairs and out the door. The air is chilly this early in the morning; I can almost see the white fog of my breath. It smells nice though: crisp and fresh and outside. My feet are wet from the dew.