Heavenly Brews

Chapter Eight

Sam’s POV

It was hard to fall asleep last night as I laid on my back, and stared out the window as flurries danced past the glass pane. The sheets were cold, even with my flannel bottoms and the heater rumbling, much like a droning sound in the distance, or a low hum through water. Facing the window, my hand outstretched to the empty space beside me, I tried not to focus on the longing for someone to tuck into me, for me to wrap my arms around.

I thought about Gabriel, just a room away on the couch. Ever smiling and jubilant, his presence is calming, and I feel on top of the world. When we were walking in the park, it felt as though we had done it every day for years. Sitting in the coffee shop and catching him glancing at me and holding his gaze until we look away, my blush hidden as I slouch behind my laptop didn’t feel like flirting, but rather domestic affection. Having him come over, and staying up late just to talk about everything and nothing was familiar in a way it couldn’t be because it was new but exciting.  Saying goodnight to someone, Gabriel, felt so natural. It felt like going home.

Waking up this morning was terrifying, I thought maybe I had imagined the whole ordeal, a bittersweet sweven to remind me of things I want that are just out of reach; a perfect microcosm that my fingertips were brushing, but no matter how far I stretch I can’t grasp it. I woke up at five, because I didn’t know when he had to go to work and to have time to get back to his apartment. Gabriel was on my mind before I had even opened my eyes, and upon crossing the threshold from sleep to awake, they flew open and I looked around my room frantically.

Throwing back the covers, I rushed from my room and down the hall, sliding a bit in my socks. Stopping in the doorway, I saw his sleeping figure and instantly calmed down. Shaking my head at how ridiculous I am, I head to my kitchen and feed Bones, then take him out to do his business. It stopped snowing in the middle of the night at some point, but the layers are almost unbroken on the roads. I head back inside and get my laptop to check my email and see if school is canceled.

While it’s powering up, I glance at Gabriel and smile. He’s curled up on his side, back to the couch and blanket pulled up to his nose, my smile drops when I figure he must have been cold, and heat creeps up my neck at the thought of us sharing my bed to be warmer. Deciding my laptop is taking too long, I turn on the TV, checking the volume and turning it down so it won’t startle Gabriel. The news is finishing up a story, the weather up next, when I hear him stirring.

“Morning Sam,” he says and sits up, whining a bit at the lost warmth when the blankets shift away from him at his movement.

I swallow at the sound of his rough morning voice, hovering awkwardly in front of the TV. Gabriel notices and pats the space next to him with a sleepy smirk. I push the blanket aside and sit next to him, highly aware of our brushing arms. He yawns and stretches, then leans back and puts both arms on the back of the sofa. We sit in silence as the weather man appears and gestures to a map covered in low temperatures and the high chance of more snow. School isn’t canceled yet, though it may be tomorrow if the predictions come true.

Standing and walking to the kitchen, I ask him what he wants for breakfast and he shrugs, still not awake. I grab a bowl of fruit and a few boxes of cereal. He grabs the box of Lucky Charms, and munches quietly and stares unfocused at random spots. I chuckle at the drastic difference of the energetic Gabriel I’m used to seeing and this tired Gabriel who is clearly not a morning person. He glances up at the sound and smiles, chewing slowly with the determination of someone who hasn’t fully woken up yet when the simplest task is ten times harder.

He shivers a bit, and my eyes flick to his shaking figure. I get up and grab a sweatshirt, the grey material one of my favorite hoodies. Handing it to him wordlessly, he accepts it gratefully and slips it on, sighing at the new found warmth. The sleeves are too long, and he fumbles with them for a moment, rolling them back until his hands are visible.