Like Words || Ramshackle

VI

TW: Mentions of alcohol
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Whispers of rustling wind tells me to not sleep. I feel like I have to do something, but I just can't seem to comprehend what's that cloud of disarray—pouring droplets of misunderstanding above me.

Is it only about to storm? I'd rather bear with the storm.

...

Two-thirty.

I can't overthink much since Skipp is holding my right arm too tight like his life depended on me. And Vinnie's snoring blending with the cicadas are so fucking loud.
I try to move, yet I am still trapped. The musician's embrace is way too strong to resist.
So I gave myself in for a bit.
I scoot closer.

I run my fingers against his soft, orange-blonde hair locks, playing with it for a while. I tuck a few strands behind his ear and placed my quivering hand to his cheek. Gently tracing it, I just look at him sleeping—his slow, cordial breaths circulating with the cold air.

No smile, No frown,

No... anything. I don't know what he is to me. What even am I to him?

He just appeared in my life. Suddenly.
After I ran away from that horrid place, he aimlessly marked a stone in my life. A fluorite stone. That when you scratch it with a copper coin, all you have, it leaves damage on the outside. But It doesn't break in the inside, it doesn't shatter immediately.
It means that me and Skipp have went through the same problems. But did we break down? Did we allow it to shatter our lives?
No.

He once gave me a fluorite stone, I kept it secure inside my pendant. I replaced it with my old 'family' polaroid film. Skipp is closer to be called family than my actual family.

Love is just a stupid part of life. Then, does that make love stupid ?
I used to agree. Before I began to explore the cruel hamlet of this town with them both.
My hand is still tangled with Skipp's hair, the other resting on the side of his face.
I've seen his eyes as it fixes on me. I think 'bout doing things. But not actually doing the things.
He's my shelter from reality.

I move even closer. So close that It seems like I'm throwing my arms around the sleeping boy in a hug.
I am hugging him right now.
I felt like I had to. I felt like I need to. It feels... beyond nice.
It feels so different in contrast to when he's hugging me. But at this moment, two-forty on a random Tuesday, I'm hugging him. It feels surreal. It feels like this only happens once - and that's right now.

I held him even tighter.

...

Two-fifty.

I seriously cannot close my eyes.

...

Three.

I get up and forced myself to free my hands from Skipp. Such a shame, all good things come to a conclusion. And that's another topic to talk about. To think about rather. Skipp.

I grab an unfinished glass bottle and sat down a random old wooden crate. Slamming several more unopened bottles, the alcoholic side of me crept in the corners, about to take full control.
Best combo;
Overthink while being drunk. Hell yeah.

I take a sip in the unfinished bottle. Maaaaaaaaan, this feels rad. Now, let's think! Shall weeee?
Hiccups were already acting up after the first round. I wish it was Skipp.
But anyway, I don't know.
Do I like, love him? Or is it more like I'm just accepting his love? Or does he even really love me?
Many or's swam in my pool of thoughts. I bet they loooooove swimming in freestyle.

...

This is my second bottle. The green reflection of the bottle shine amidst my pale skin as I start to inhale my surroundings. I think I checked up on Skipp and Vinnie six times. I got up again to check up on them.
Still asleep. Back to the crate.

...

Third and a half. I can't stop laughing about why the bottle is shaped like a dick.

...

Fourth bottle. I wonder what would it be like if Skipp and I were together.
I wonder what would it be like if I get to hug him every second.
I wonder what would it be like if we held hands everywhere.
I wonder what would it be like if we kiss each other's lips
I wonder what would it be like if I let him rest his head against my shoulder at dawn.
I wonder what would it be like if we let our tongues meet each other.

...

Fifth bottle.
I weep. I start to cry. I thought of losing him. I thought of losing them both.

...

Sixth bottle.
I start to compose and sing a song with my fiddle—of course, it's about Skipp. Just a drowsy song.

...

Six and a half. I got up once again to check on my sleeping friends.
As I make my way out of the crate, I trip. Followed by a loud morning shout.

"RISE AND SHINE!"

Vinnie exclaimed. "Woah Stone, this is the first time I've seen you wake up before six in the morning." She chuckled, then scanned the empty bottles. "Jeez, drinking already? Shiiiiit, you drank a shitload again."
I can't even form words. I just hiccup. "Where- hic is hic Sk- hic ipp ?"
"Sleeping."
"hic plea- hic se take hic me hic to- hic him... hic."
"Beside him? Thats gay but okay."
"hic."

...

-end of chapter-