𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐭𝐚𝐢𝐧, young royals

12: Blue Dream

12: Blue Dream

I had the strangest dream after August's party.

It started with the moon.  A fingernail print in the ether.  I think I was by my dorm window, looking at it through the glass. I was alone, master of the tides and my own traction.

But then I wasn't alone because someone was in the room with me.  It was Simon, retired in the shadows of my dorm.

He was still wearing his puffy grey coat and burgundy button-up.  He moved closer to me like water flows. His green-stripped beanie loosely wrapped around his head like a crown.  I remember taking it off him and watching his hair coil out from underneath.

He eyed me breathlessly. And I suddenly knew exactly why he was there.  Simon rose to tilt off my balance, to tempt me with what he thought was simply intrinsic yet repelled me to my core.

Then I had him again, locked by the lips. I whispered all sorts of odd things to him while I kissed him. I told him his skin was cold like his shoulder, that his veins were blue like my dreams. I swore there was seafoam in his blood and moondust in mine.

I kissed Simon for one second or maybe hours or an enternity.

My palms kneaded into his shoulders and touched down his arms, clawing at his flesh through his coat with my fingernails.  He breathed my name when I touched him, hummed into my mouth when I kissed him.

I was peppered with his musky cologne, set alight with his voice.  I was irrevocably bitten by lust and succumbing to its poison.

And I was utterly and irremediably off my rails, that's what I knew for certain when I jolted awake alone in my room at 4am, breathless and still a little woozy and drunk.

It was just a dream.  Nothing but a stupid sex dream.  But, fuck, it'd aroused something in me, a feeling I knew none of my friends could relate to, something crooked and sinful.

The entire dorm was spinning around me. I drunkenly lied back down, sheets thrown off my naked torso, but I couldn't keep my skin from burning. I was feverish and demented. I desperately needed to sober up now.

So then, to my illicit and restless thoughts, I started to touch myself, desperate to be rid of the aching.  I could endure the shame in the morning, I decided.  For the first time in my life, I was truly desperate, and even though I did try to think of something or someone else, Simon quenched every parched corner in my head.  My mind raced back to the shed last semester, that evening he'd kissed me as the sun bled out in the lake.  I'd kissed many girls before, some fair and pretty, some a little less, and I guess I always thought I knew what lascivity was supposed to feel like.

I never knew I'd been so entirely clueless all my life until Simon kissed me in that shed.

•••

"Are you still hungover from last friday?"

Felice pushed her sunglasses up on her nose bridge.

"Well," she sighed, "I only really woke up yesterday afternoon."

"Fuck's sake, Felice," I breathed.

She sucked on her teeth.

"Says the guy who disappeared in the woods at, like, 2am," she retorted sourly.  "Where exactly were you, by the way?"

I thought back to my encounter with Simon in the forest, but everything was sort of blurry after he left.  I could vaguely remember trying to head back to the dorms  on my own, but I didn't recall a lot more after that.  And then there was that dream.  It had been a weird night, to say the least.