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RHETT'S EYES FLUTTER open when the time on the digital alarm clock transitions to three-nineteen a.m. Sleep clings to his eyelids as he takes in the room that has become all too familiar to him, basked in the glow of the luminescent moonlight that filters in through the curtains adorning the window.
Holden's bed is a mess of blankets thrown haphazardly, slipping off the bed and onto the wooden floor below. But, even from his position on the floor, Rhett can see the boy in question is missing. He shakes the sleep from his eyes and locates his glasses to confirm his suspicions, the floorboards creaking upon his every step from the mattress on the hardwood to Holden's bed.
Rhett's phone still lies in the crumpled sheets from when the two of them were playing a weird version of Truth or Dare they had downloaded. A smile tugs at the corner of his lips when he wakes the phone and sees the picture of Holden against the city skyline.
It was a dare. Set your recently saved picture as your lock screen until your next turn.
But they hadn't gotten to his next turn because they both had dozed off before that, their laughs rapidly translating into snores as their dreams gradually provided them with the refuge reality could not.
"Your recently saved picture is of me?" Holden had whispered then, an incredulous tone dripping from his softly-uttered words. He leaned in closer for a better view. "Oh, that's the one I posted on Instagram last night." His eyes flickered with recognition.
He smiled slightly, angling himself to see Rhett better, his silence asking all his questions for him.
"I really liked the view. Saved it as inspiration," he replied, barely hearing his voice over the rhythm of his heartbeat. "My feed needs work."
He set the picture as his lock screen then, refusing to meet Holden's eyes.
"Your feed is way better than mine," Holden responded, keeping his voice at a whisper, careful not to awake his parents in the other room.
Ripping himself from his thoughts, Rhett notices the notification of a message from Holden that was sent an hour ago.
It's quick, straight to the point, but it's not enough for him: Out. Be back in a few.
He throws his phone back into the mess of sheets and finds himself entangled within them as well, the heat instantaneously embracing him and providing a haven from the wisps of wind entering from the slit of the window.
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