Insomniac

Sam

☽s.15☾

/unedited/

I never realized how small I was in comparison to Michael until I woke up in his bed.

I wasn't accustomed to waking up in a boy's sleeping quarters. I didn't do it often, in fact I didn't do it at all. However I was strangely used to waking up with Michael. Whether it be on the scratchy rug in the record store or a booth in the diner. This waking in his room was different but It felt oddly normal even though I'd never done it before. I felt comfortable just like I had the night before when I showed up to his dorm for the first time, and I guess it made sense since almost all the conversations we had were conducted under a haze of sleepiness and when you're sleepy don't you go to bed?

This particular morning I found myself trapped underneath him. More specifically the right side of my body. Michael was on his stomach, half on me, half on the bed. His right knee was hooked between my legs and his left arm was slung across my front. His limbs were long and sinewy wrapped around me and dwarfed me by comparison. But the pressure of his body on mine wasn't the first thing that notified me of my location. It was the smell. His sheets smelt clean like detergent but they also smelt like crisp mint and rain- his scent (additionally there was the residual scent of pizza from last night). It was the dead arm and the dimness of the room. It was the warmth that I felt only around him that bloomed in the pit of my stomach and stretched it's limbs through my entire body. I was extremely aware of him; a fact that should have alarmed me. I felt as if I could find him even if we were on opposite sides of a dark maze-because I could feel him. It was like our hearts were tethered together, and that was a scary thought, a corny scary thought.

My mind churned to life slowly in the mornings this morning in particular.

Tired.

Dead arm.

Mmm smells good.

Boy. On me.

Shirtless boy. God.

He was mumbling unintelligibly into the crook of my neck nuzzling me as his lips moved against my skin. I tensed at the feel of his mouth on my neck because suddenly he was kissing my neck and I could feel him smiling but I was too tired and too in shock to push him away. I don't even think I wanted to push him away. I couldn't tell if he was awake and messing with me or sincerely doing this in his sleep because it's not like my brain could have made this deduction being both sleep addled and on the verge of blowing up as a result of his mouth doing the thing to my neck.

God.

And then just as suddenly as he started he stopped. I was burning up from embarrassment with what he had just seemingly unknowingly done, my body still coiled with tension and my stomach still churned. Instead he wrapped his arm around me and shifted us flipping us so that now I was the one on top of him. Gosh, he moved a lot in his sleep. He was a tumultuous sleeper- when he actually did sleep.

My face was now pressed into him and I allowed myself one minute to marvel at the softness of the skin that stretched taunt against the muscles of his chest. I allowed my fingers to play connect the dots with the freckles peppered across his skin and admired the little hollow, the intimate triangle at the base of his neck above his strapping chest and in between his collarbones. I wanted to kiss him right there in that spot.

Then I willed myself to get up. He couldn't have been awake I told myself. Nope. Michael, as chatty as he had come to be with me he was... awkward. He wasn't open. Most of the times you had to tease things out of him. When he was awake sure he liked to put on his charm act but he wasn't so... touchy feely. He didn't allow himself to be a mush. I was putting all of my DVDs into my bag when he stirred.