Greenline

20

Wednesday, June 11th. 9:35 am.

As I stirred awake the next morning, the birds were chirping. Their songs were relatively unchanging and high-pitched tunes, occasionally interrupted by the deep caw of a crow. Crickets were still humming from the night before, slightly muffled within my enclosed vehicle. I was laying across the backseat in nothing but my boxers, and it took me a few moments of blinking away sleep to remember why.

When I did recall what had happened, I could not help the grin that split my lips. I ran a hand across my less-than-toned stomach and smiled as I stared up at the cigarette stained roof of my car. In the warmth of the morning sun that slipped through the side windows, I reminisced on the previous night's events.

Daydreaming of Isaac, my gaze drifted around the car to find him – only to realize he wasn't there. My eyes widened momentarily as I thought of every worst-case-scenario, propping myself up on my arms in a groggy panic.

I fished a worn-out blue flannel from the pile of clothes I had stuffed behind the driver's seat and sat up to look outside. My anxiety eased somewhat when I noticed a figure sitting on the edge of the water, wrapped in an old blanket that I used to keep in my trunk. My brow was still creased with concern, though, worried about why Isaac was curled up on his own and left me to snooze the morning away.

My door opened with its distinct cl-click and I stumbled out of the backseat with sore muscles that I did not expect, swinging the flannel over my arms in an attempt to cover up. The day was already warm, but we weren't local to the area and I had no idea if this small, scenic area was part of a well traveled park or just an unused tragedy.

I closed the door heavily and expected Isaac to turn around and look at me, but he kept his face turned toward the water. I tried to mask any concern as I trudged over, shaking out my hair in a useless attempt to tame it.

When I reached him, I found he was awake, but he said nothing. He let his eyes dart around the same sight he drowned in last night. I sat down next to him to join him, although the sight that I drowned in was him. It felt different after I had touched every inch of him and shown him so much of myself, like our connection was deeper. I wish it wasn't the first thing on my mind to hope he felt the same.

I hadn't been able to get away with examining him for a minute before he met my eyes briefly and smirked. The huge grin I had woken up with was back, and for quite a while we just stared at each other. Until Isaac got flustered and shoved his head into my shoulder to hide his face with an un-stifled giggle. A laugh bubbled up in my chest as well and I put my arm around his shoulders to keep him close.

We quieted down and enjoyed one another's company. He tucked his head into the crook of my neck and shared his blanket. I could feel him smiling against my collarbone as his hot breath wafted down my chest. I wonder if he knew how much I loved that he smelled like sage, which I had finally been able to put a name to after our last trip to the store. I think I should have told him.

I wanted to stay in that moment forever, to never let him go. And so, I let the silence stretch on for longer than I should have, letting Isaac adjust himself to lean on me comfortably whilst still able to take in the scenery around us. His breathing had fallen into a rhythm with mine, or perhaps mine had fallen in with his. I was all too comfortable to break this peaceful memory, but I had to say what I needed to.

The guilt ate at the back of my mind and eventually the words came out, ruining everything just as I had expected it to. "Are you ready to go back?"

He tensed against me. His head lifted to look up at me, causing me to drop my arm. I knew I'd break and keep running with him for the rest of his life if I met his eyes, so I kept my head forward and my eyes trained on the ripples in the water. The same water his phone was no doubt rusting at the bottom of.

"What if I'm not?" He questioned gently. I could tell he was afraid of my answer. Still, though, his left hand found my right one and he locked our fingers together.

I chewed on my cheek and held his hand firmly. "Then we'll keep going west until I'm out of gas. Or money. Whichever comes first."

Isaac smiled, I broke to watch him, but it was small and didn't reach his eyes, gone as quickly as it had appeared. He let out a weighted sigh and turned his attention to our enclosed hands, fidgeting in my grip. He didn't pull away, though, so I didn't either.

"I'm not ready," he whispered, finding patterns in the dirt. "But I don't think it matters." I shot him a confused glance and he met me with a frown. "We have to go back."

The apprehension clouding his chocolate eyes made me wish I could tell him otherwise, but I couldn't. So I nodded and sadly affirmed, "yeah."

He sighed again. "Why are the perfect nights always the last?" He muttered. It's a question that has stabbed me deeper with every day that passed.

But then, I was dumb, and I didn't know how to meet his very real question with the intellect he was seeking. I shrugged. "I dunno. Probably something psychological or poetic."

He chuckled, but it wasn't genuine. After a few heartbeats of silence, he asked, "can we just sit here for a little bit longer?"

Without hesitation, I said, "Of course," and wrapped him in my arms again. He switched from holding my right hand to my left so he could allow himself to be engulfed in my grip. I threw my legs out around him and held him as close as possible, digging my chin into his shoulder.

The water rippled and sparkled as it occasionally caught a glimpse of the late morning sun in its reflection. We enjoyed the sound of the water lapping at the bank and the beauty around, but we enjoyed each other more.