Shades of Cool

e.i.g.h.t.

"What a sad, beautiful, tragic, love affair..."

The smell of cigarettes remind me of home. It's a warm, comforting cloud that engulfs me. I woke up to the smell of home and donuts. The room is dark except for a flicker of orange in the distance. I hear an exhale.

I start to sit up but the weight in my head stops me.

"Finn?"

I'm answered with a hum. I hear him shuffle, his cigarette giving his location away. He goes to, what I'm assuming, is his dresser and starts to mess with something.

The room is flooding with neon green stars. The are moving and forming into bigger stars across his ceiling and a fraction of his wall. I can see his green silhouette in front of the bed and the light illuminates his smoke.

"'Morning, snore-shine."

"Is it morning?"

"About 4."

"What did you call me? Snore-shine?"

"Don't judge me; I'm still slightly drunk."

I run my hand over the covers, searching for my phone. I find it eventually and the brightness of the lock screen blinds me for a moment.

It read:

X 💩 Missed Call (13)
X 💩 iMessage (9)

Fuck.

I don't even read his texts or listen to his voicemails. I quickly text him that I'm alright and put my phone away.

"Why does it smell like donuts?"

"You'll never know the answer to that question."

"Do you have donuts?"

"I plead the fifth."

"Huckleberry."

"Yes?"

"Are you hiding donuts from me?"

"I sure am."

"I'm not sure how to feel about that."

"You should feel terrible. Now you know how I felt when I found out about the pie."

I laugh and stretch.

"Did you sleep at all?" I wondered.

"I think I did for an hour."

"Is that normal?"

"Usually."

The green lights recycle and light him up again. He's standing in front of the bed, looking down at me. He has one of his hand twisted in his wild hair.

The silence connecting us feels electric. Tangible. Like I can twirl it around the same pinky I promised him with.

"Do you want to go somewhere?"