While You're In The World

Stupid, Stupid Boy

Todd's POV

I wake up, the sun shining awfully bright for a late Saturday in November. I watch as the dust dances through the air, spotlighted by the streaks of sun coming in through the window. I roll my head to the side, just barely catching sight of Neil in his own bed past the fortress of pillows he sleeps with. I crane my head up further, and see the tape player sitting on the radiator, remembering the night before. I smile, recalling how Neil and I had danced, body to body, hand in hand, twirling and jumping and holding onto each other. We couldn't seem to get enough of the night, wanting to make it last for as long as we possibly could. It was like we'd escaped into a world of our own.

I hear a thud and look over to see a pillow has fallen from Neil's bed, revealing his gentle sleeping form. His arm is hanging off the side of the bed, presumably what pushed the pillow off in the first place. His arm his long and slender, and muscular without even trying. My eyes follow the skin of his wrist all the way up to the curve of his shoulder, where it connects to his neck, his bare back uncovered by his quilt. His face is smushed into his pillow, but even so he looks angelic. I've never truly studied him until this moment, but Neil really is beautiful. He has the kind of face they would have wrote poems about. The kind of bones they would have sculpted.

Out of nowhere I feel my stomach drop, and I instantly feel sort of sick. A nervous feeling rushes over me, and I roll over to my back, clutching a pillow across my chest. It's an odd feeling, like I'm terribly worried about something, but I can't figure out what. I look back over to Neil, at the way his back rises and falls with each of his deep, slow breaths. I look at his messy hair falling every which way across his forehead.

Yeah, I think to myself, still angelic.

On top of my sudden anxiety, I still feel tired. Maybe I could just sleep a little more while I wait for Neil to wake up. I shift my head on my pillow, so that a sun beam falls directly across my face. I close my eyes, and let myself fall back asleep, thinking about the boy in the bed across from mine.

Neil POV

I wake up, my arm almost numb, tingling over the side of the bed. I pull it up and roll onto my back, holding it up in the air. I've always weirdly liked the feeling of the pins and needles that run up your limbs when they fall asleep. Most people hate it, shaking it out as fast as they can. But I've always liked letting it take it's time, work it's way out of my arm.

I roll my head to the side, and see Todd curled up under his blankets, the sun basking his face in a warm wash of gold. With the feeling mostly returned to my arm, I lift myself up, sliding myself back so I'm sitting up against my head board.

I watch Todd as he sleeps. Ever since I first met Todd, I thought he had a very pretty face. You can see it during the day, when he smiles, I like it especially when he's reading. But I've noticed it shows most at night. When he's not thinking, not worrying, not anxious like he always is. I wish I could take those anxieties away from him, that way everyone could see Todd the way I do.

When I was younger, I told my father how fond I was of my friend down the street, because I thought she was so pretty. He'd nodded in approval, even though at the time, her being pretty didn't mean anything more than her being a fast runner or her ability to climb a tree better than anyone I knew. But to my father, it was confirmation that I was heading in the right direction. 

I didn't meet his approval, but instead his temper, when I'd made a similar remark to him about a boy in my class. He was mortified, and absolutely disgusted. I didn't understand then, because like with the girl down the street, it didn't mean anything more than what it was. I found them both beautiful, but in the same way I would look at a flower or a pretty painting or my mother's dress.