No food to eat, all the money's been wasted from last week
I can't even leave, so I sleep in the basement, making up rap beats
Hot cup of tea, it's four o'clock in the middle of the night, and I can't sleep
It's all on the peak, so bad I can taste it while it eats me
How can I sleep if I don't have dreams?
I just have nightmares
How can it be?
I still believe something is out there
Some part of me feels a little bit naked and empty
I'm stuck underneath a few dirty old blankets to comfort me
How can I sleep if I don't have dreams?
I just have nightmares
How can it be?
I still believe something is out there
-
Axel
Xavier Alexander was a mess.
I couldn't figure out whether he was trembling from the cold or crying. I wondered if he was doing both.
His eyes were cast down on the table; it appeared that all worldly confidence had somehow diffused out of him. His shoulders were tight and trembling, his body stiff and vulnerable. I was sure if I looked into his eyes, I would find them watery. Or sad. Very, very sad.
Sighing I decided that every stupid thing I was doing could be blamed on my lack of sleep, "Here," I opened the zip of my bag pack and took out a sweater.
He looked up, our gazes connecting like lightning. His brilliantly clear, green eyes looked into mine, and for a moment, I almost forgot what I was going to say.
Snapping out of the trance he put me in too often, I shook my head and focused on his nose instead. It didn't help much.
"Here," I repeated.
"You keep an extra sweater in your backpack?" He said, his voice sounding raw and broken and scratchy. I almost offered him some water, but I wasn't sure whether it would help. I wasn't sure anything would help.
He shrugged on the grey sweater, slightly trembling as he wrapped his fingers around his shoulders, looking out the window. My eyes landed on those god damned knuckles of his again, and something inside of me tinged. I forced myself to look away.
The words were coming out of my mouth before I could stop them, "I'm sorry,"
He looked at me again, that same incredulous expression plastered on his face. My eyes found his, but I looked away.
Then, he laughed.
It wasn't like his usual laugh. It was too sharp around the edges.
"Why are you sorry?"
Because once upon a time, I had been just like him. A bit younger, a bit more naïve, a bit hopeful.
I had been just like him, and nobody had helped me.
Nobody.
"I don't know."
Rain splattered against the window rather violently. On reflex, I jerked back.
"You don't need to be." He was smiling. I didn't need to look at him to see that he was smiling.
"Hmmm,"
I awkwardly fumbled with my hands again, waiting impatiently for the pizza to come. Before actually entering the pizzeria, it had seemed like such a good idea to help him. Now it seemed like the most horrible one.
YOU ARE READING
The Delivery Boy(boyxboy)
Romance"I know you and I are not about poems or other sentimental bullshit, but I have to tell you that even the way you drink coffee knocks me the fuck out." - Axel Clark has responsibilities. After his father left and his mother became an alcohol...
