Inclination

Oasis, Optimistic Objects, Obedience

You've been knocking on his front door for almost five minutes, pressing your ear to the wood to listen for movement and tossing your gaze over your shoulder to keep checking to see if his car is actually parked in the driveway. It feels invasive, especially after the way you left last night, to just walk into his house but you try the knob anyway.

When the door swings open, your head pokes inside to call his name softly and when it's motionless and silent inside, you begin tip toeing your way in. Everything seems to be in the same place that it was the evening before, even the corner of the rug is still upturned, his kitchen remains untouched as if he didn't even attempt to cook himself dinner.

You feel guilty for leaving in the manner that you did and although you love Harry very much, you don't technically have any mandatory responsibilities towards him aside from friendly company and last night self-preservation was your priority. You went home and made yourself a frozen pizza, watching re-runs of Seinfeld in bed and trying to get the image of Harry being sexual with another person out of your head.

There is no reason to feel like he had been unfaithful to you, but the pang that knocked against your heart echoed a lot like the pain of deceit. The rational part of you knows that your emotions are inaccurate and you're trying your best to convince your heart as such; hopefully with time you will be able to accept the reality of Harry as your friend and be able to support him through moments of dilemma and strain in his relationships.

His bedroom door is flung wide open and all of the lights are on; one glimpse at the clock tells you that it's nearly two in the afternoon but Harry is nowhere to be found. Your fist lifts to the doorframe to meet it in a knock but when you peek inside of his bedroom and see him curled on his side atop his sheets, his face puffy as if he had fallen asleep crying in his same clothes from last night and an empty bottle of tequila strewn at the foot of his bed, you creep into his room and fall to your knees at his side.

Your thumb traces over the worry lines between his eyebrows, his mouth is parted to let air escape and his body seems extremely vulnerable when a shiver racks his spine and his face presses further into his pillows. You consider waking him, your regret for leaving him alone last night practically eating you alive as you absorb the sight before you. You had been so consumed with the ache in your chest that your forethought was cut short and now here it is, staring you in the face and it fucking hurts.

Your bottom lip is tucked underneath your top teeth and your throat is tight with trapped tears, your shoes are discarded when you softly climb into bed with him, careful not to disturb his much needed sleep.

You trace down the center of his nose with the pad of your index finger and in the dip of his top lip, across his cheekbone and down his scruffy jawline. You scoot close, your body pressing against his and your face tucking into the crook of his neck as you carefully wrap your arm around his back, holding him tightly against you as you close your eyes and inhale his Ivory soap deeply. His curls tickle your forehead and as you draw the blanket up and over your sleeping bodies, you whisper, "I'm sorry, Harry," into his throat just before drifting off to sleep.

.

Crawling on hands and knees through a desert; mountains and hills of interchanging stretches of rippled and smooth soft burnt sienna sand, the sun directly overhead as it parches and scorches every inch of skin. An oasis is just up ahead; a small sparkling pond, the flashes of light reflecting from the water's surface so brightly that they leave little blind starry specks after eyes are closed.

The sand is so hot that it burns palms and knees but the respite is so close that giving up is not an option. Two large palm trees grow from seemingly nowhere, casting much needed shade - an instant relief that begins to cool the streaks of sweat that have dripped down fiery cheeks and burned into eyelids.