we are the dreamers - rewritten

two - enoch

Inside, I charge into the vacant bathroom, breathing fast. 

I'm imagining things. 

I pace back and forth in front of the stalls, trying to calm my nerves. Trying to think of anything but Horace. 

Its not supposed to be this terrifying to be in love. When Victor was alive, when he and I-

It was different. But that was so long ago I've stopped forcing myself to hold on to those memories, to let them go blurry around the edges. I've let all the hard parts fade to ghosts. 

I know Horace can't feel the same way. It has to be impossible. I've built up walls around me so high I can barely see the stars anymore. Nobody can ever get in, and I can never get out. And yet, when I look at Horace, I can feel them crumbling like old pastries, and the sun shines a little brighter, and the sky feels more welcoming. 

But I have to stop thinking about it, or the walls will come cascading to the ground, all at once, and kill both of us. Because Horace is my friend, and it needs to stay that way. That's how he sees me, and that's how I have to accept him. 

But sometimes our hands will brush, or, like what happened just now, I catch him blushing. Or looking at me, and it confuses me so much that I stay up all night on Google trying to figure out if these are signs, or just Horace being Horace. 

I grip the edge counter, looking at myself hard in the mirror. I'm crying all of a sudden, so that's just great. I really hope nobody walks in. 

I choke out a sob, because I overreact about everything. It echoes through the empty stalls just to show off how much of a baby I am. 

I am a constant disappointment to myself. 

I decide to leave. I don't know how long I've been in here. I do a half assed job of wiping the tears from my eyes. 

Right as I open the door, I bump into Horace. 

Perfect, just fucking perfect. 

"Oh Enoch there you are. You've been in there for- Oh my bird are you okay? You're-"

"I'm fully aware that I'm crying, yes." I snap at him. Then I want desperately to run away. But Horace deserves an explanation.

"Enoch.." He says quietly, and his voice is full of so many emotions that I can't even begin decipher what he's trying to say. 

"Horace." I respond, my voice breaking. Because I have no idea what else to say. 

"What are you- are you okay?" He asks, placing a hand on my shoulder. I want to melt into the floor. 

"Fine." 

"You're obviously not fine." 

I take a deep breath, "Horace, look, I-" Then I stop, shaking my head. I can't tell him. "Never mind." 

"Did I upset you by the freckle interrogation?" 

"What? What no I- its not that." I look at the ground, then shake my head again, saying, "I'm sorry Horace, I'm, I just-" 

Deep breath.

"I need a minute." I murmur, pushing his hand off my shoulder. "Please don't follow me this time."

Then I dash away, ignoring his awkward, confused calls after me. 

---

Author's note:  

Hey my lovelies! I hope you enjoyed this installment of We Are The Dreamers. Next one will be out hopefully in the next week or so. 

Any questions for the boys? Be sure to check out their ongoing q&a book; Ask The Lovers. 

Maybe hit me up with some votes or comments! Your support always inspires me <3 

All best my babes, brooky.