Holding My Breath [Wattys 2016]

9 6 ~ R u s t y

                

Present Day ~ July 24, 2011

Everything is warm, for the first time in a while. I drift in and out of sleep for a few minutes, only to realize that I'm waking up on my own... not from a nightmare that tries to freeze me in place.

I go to move, yawning, but find that I'm leaning into something that is keeping me in place. I can tell it's still dark in the room from behind my eyelids, so I open them without waking up too much.

I see a familiar fireplace and try to remember what happened last night once I got to Blue's house. I must have fallen asleep on his couch before he got back from the kitchen. Next, I look down at myself, a blanket covering me. Warmth. The air conditioning is blowing, bringing the temperature outside the blanket down. I curl myself into a tighter ball.

What I don't expect is the soft breathing next to me, synced with mine. I look up to the source of heat besides me, whose shoulder I'm lying against and whose arm is wrapped around me. I smile at him while he sleeps.

Blue.

He looks so peaceful. On his lap is a book, a page dog-eared down. I reach over carefully, trying not to wake him, and open it up to the bookmarked page.

It's a book of poetry. I lay my head back down against his shoulder as I read some of it. I smile. Blue reads poetry.

I look back at him, at how his lips are slightly apart in his sleep and how he takes deep breaths. How he's even smiling in his sleep, like there's a joke only he heard. I love it.

I reach up and brush the dark hair from his eyes. I would never do this when he was awake, but it's like my mind has caught up with me tonight.

It's been a while since I was this close to someone... like snuggling with Toby and watching TV. It's weird how much I missed stuff like that and didn't realize it.

My eyes begin to droop shut. I haven't gotten so much sleep in a long time. The blinds are still closed from last night and the entire house is silent.

This won't be embarrassing unless Blue knows I woke up, so I lay his book back down on his lap and close my eyes, letting myself drift off again. I bury my face back into the loose fabric of his t-shirt and let out a deep breath. I'll tell him tomorrow. Everything. From the beginning.

It might be, and probably is, my imagination. I'm sure it was. But I think I felt him move his thumb back and forth on my arm a few times, just to say that he's here.