In Your Dreams: An Enorace Fanfiction

Chapter 5

      The whole day had passed without the two boys talking to each other again. Horace had attempted to catch his attention by sitting next to him during their meals and even purposefully bumped into his shoulder while walking down the hall. Enoch only stared straight ahead of him and walked off. Horace brushed it off; when Enoch was ready, he would tell him, but he just couldn't shake off his concern.

      The moon began to share its light through the blinds of Horace's window, illuminating the desk at which he sat at, skimming through his sketch book. The pages were painted with scribbles and shading, matching many of the dreams that have reoccured in his head; a destroyed drugstore (most likely robbed), a broken down cabin in the midst of a hurricane, and an unconscious horse in the center of a warm, sunny field were just a few of his most interesting sketches. Most nights he skimmed through them, connecting separate dreams and terrors and digging deeper into their meaning. Even though he sat up straight, licking his fingers before flipping each page and scanning over the lines, his mind was else where.

      The house was almost silent, despite the occasional chirp of the birds that sat perched upon the tree by Horace's window. When he reached the end of the pages, he yawned loudly and shut the book, realizing how tired he actually was. He turned off his desk lamp, walked over to his messy bed, and flopped down. As soon as he hit the mattress, he was out like a light.

Restaurants and corner stores sailed past the window of the bright yellow pontiac as it rolled down the newly paved roads. When it pulled up to the sign, a gentleman in a dapper suit grinned and waved, while the driver nodded his way. What a beautiful day; the perfect amount of wind to counteract the rays of sunshine beaming down on London, families strolling the sidewalk with lollies in hand.

The driver of the car sighed in gratitude and waited as the children crossed the street towards their parents. Not everyone in London was happy, though. A wasted old man sat in front of the steering wheel of another vehicle, talking to himself and paying no attention to the street in front of him. The world was hazy beyond his windows, and he couldn't stop once he knew it was too late; the tires skidded against the pavement, and the crossing children could only gasp. Time had slowed down as if it were stuck in a batch of honey. As soon as the car and the innocent kids collided, the world turned a blinding white. Slowly, pieces of a new scene appeared in Horace's mind.

      The basement was frigid and the light was flickering just slightly. Enoch was there; sitting on the edge of his unkempt bed. He stared awkwardly at his trembling hands. He had been thinking for a long time now. Horace sat criss-crossed next to him.

      "Enoch," he started, looking up into his eyes. "Is there something you want to tell me?" His voice was so gentle and welcoming that Enoch almost blurted out everything he had been thinking. He took a slow, deep breath, looked up at his friend, and did something he never thought he would ever be able to do. He didn't think, he just took his chances. Enoch kissed him.

 

      Horace gasped and shot up out of his sleep. His sheets were thrown all around his bed and blanket had fallen onto the floor. A breath of fresh air filled his lungs, coming from the open window which resulted in his freezing room. Sleeping without a blanket didn't help. Horace swung his lanky legs off of his bed and pushed himself up, almost falling back down. He was exhausted. After crossing the freezing room and shutting the window, he plopped back onto his bed in hoped to get some more sleep, now with some warmth.

      What an odd dream. Only now did the realization of it all hit him in the stomach. Enoch kissed him. Of course it was a dream, but Horace could perfectly remember exactly what happened. What if it came true? Did he really like him? Does Horace even like Enoch? The thoughts spiraled through his head like an angry bumblebee. His stomach was filled with a strange feeling that made him want to vomit. And for the first time that week, Horace stayed awake and reliving his dream, not terrified or worried, but curious and the tiniest bit intrigued.

"Bloody hell, he's still sleeping," came Hugh's voice beyond the doorway. Horace groaned and pulled himself up, rubbing the sleep out of his dark grey eyes. By now, his room was warm and cozy and he had no intention of leaving. Unfortunately, Hugh and Millard didn't give a damn.

The two idiots burst through his door, exclaiming good mornings in singsongy voices and bright smiles. Millard ran over to the window and pulled open the curtain, screaming, "What a beautiful day it is, just makes you want to stop and smell the roses!" Hugh laughed and ruffled Horace's hair, while the younger boy sat with a frown plastered on his face. Now he was definitely awake.

"You guys are blasted idiots," he grumbled and fell back down on his bed while pulling the blankets over him.

"Oh, come on! Were only playing around. You missed breakfast, by the way. Just thought we'd come and wake you up," Hugh said with a smirk. Horace shot out of bed. He missed breakfast? How long had he been sleeping?

"It's eleven, by the way," said Millard. The two boys doubled over laughing as they were shoved out of the room by a very grumpy boy. What a night.

      Horace shut the door and yawned, stretching his lanky arms above his head and bending backwards. His whole body seemed to crack and he sighed. At least he got some good sleep, which he was very grateful for. His head instantly shifted to last night. The dream was......it was weird. Him and Enoch kissed. And Horace may have liked it? What the hell was going on? Nope, nope, it was a dream. Just a dream and it wasn't going to come true because he did not like anyone in a way other than totally platonically.

      After pulling on his favorite light blue tuxedo, Horace attempted to fix his gell-filled hair while the children yelled and ran up and down the halls which seemed to go on forever until Miss Peregrine had enough and silenced them. He wasn't the only one with a headache. And apparently, combing your hair while totally not thinking about Enoch makes you mess up. A lot. No matter how hard he tried, he could not stop thinking about his impossible dream. Every time he replayed the kiss, a warmth spread throughout his body and almost made him throw up. He couldn't describe it, Horace had never felt anything like it. Like. Like. Wait. Did Horace possible want Enoch to kiss him? No way, not in a million years. Enoch was a jerk, and in no world would they kiss. Right?

      "Lunch, everyone!" Miss P yelled from the kitchen while ringing the dinner bell. Horace gave up on making his hair look presentable, threw the comb down, and huffed as he walked out his bedroom door. And that's exactly how the day was going to go; Horace would fight himself on his true feelings and ignore Enoch all day.