Racer 404 || (dnf)

5• tracing your tears

(Dreams POV)

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The thunder above had echoed into a murmur, the storm becoming a quiet drizzle. The rain left its traces as it rolled down the windows. We had talked for hours about everything and nothing at the same time.

We talked about our favourite colours, his childhood, how I met Nick, my cat, how he misses his siblings, his favourite sport the list goes on and still there are a million questions waiting to spill out my mouth. The conversation mainly all about him but never once did I loose interest. That stupid British accent just lured me back in every time. He was addicting. Like a drug. But never did the conversation go quiet. Not once. 

I had been put to bed rest for at least 3 days due to the severe burns that covered my legs from the knees down to the ankles. I was gutted as there was a race happening this weekend but George had already said he was going to stay to look after me so I had a little feeling that maybe it isn't going to be too bad. Although...I had already made a mental note that I was going to try to be there at the race for George.

Slight curls fall over his face as he leans over me. The warmth follows his presence almost instantly, I could never get bored of staring at him. God. He is so effortlessly perfect. His eyes like a mosh of autumn and spring, his hair like a hot chocolate on a cold winters night. His clean white skin as delicate as the first snow fall of the year. He is just everything and so much more.

I watch closely as he glides the smooth cream over the spots of damaged skin on my calf's, it sends relief straight through my veins and cuts out some of the burning sensation. For now anyway. He's been doing this out of guilt. I can tell by the way he looks at the burns and his face drops into a low frown. But only when he thinks I'm not looking, it breaks me.

The days stretch out into a blur of time as each day our 'schedule' stays the same. Some nights during this week we would both be so exhausted from doing nothing but talk all day that the moment sunset hit we would be asleep. Most of the time he would be too tired to go to the guest room and would blame my 'comfy bed' for trapping him in its claws whenever we suddenly woke up in each others grasps. It was warming. Comforting, in the best way possible.

The way that our hands would be entangled. The way the colours of our hair would merge into one. The way, at the bottom of the bed, the material of our socks rub together to try and find some warmth. The way, that I knew ff I was quiet enough , George would fall asleep before me and I could hear the heavy breaths escape through his nose. The way — i never realised how consoling it was to know he was okay. To know he was still alive...and not burning alive in a car.

The way his smoothed out curls would graze against my chin whenever his back was turned. The way I could feel the bed shift every time he moved himself closer to me. The way, I, in return...moved closer to him. To me, it meant to be put into place, like a jigsaw puzzle. A jigsaw puzzle filled with explosive pinks and purples, yellows and oranges; bright vibrant butterfly's that flutter around in my stomach — tickling my bones, sending goosebumps up my arms whenever i found myself wishing I could just hold him in my arms and never let go again.

I've never said this to anyone of course. I don't even know what these feelings are? I've never felt this way. And I'm not ready to admit that to myself.

When we would awake, the sun would gleam into the dark room, setting a natural alarm that it was morning. We ignored them of course and let ourselves stay limp in bed for a few hours together. Welcoming in the butterfly's that fall out of my hands whenever our skin seems to touch. And today was not any different.

***
(Still dreams POV)

My senses strengthen as the light fills the room. It's a Saturday, an exact week after the accident. I'm not sure if George is feeling nervous to race later today or if he is, he doesn't show it. To be honest I think I'm more nervous for him than he is.