tea - dreamnotfound

local brewery

sleep releases me from its safe arms, cutting off the empty dream i had. i blink a few times to get used to the dim lighting in the bedroom.

when i look around i notice clay sitting at my desk in his pj's with his laptop turned on, presumably planning a new video. i groan and stretch out on the mattress, throwing the covers off my body. the sounds catch clay's attention. he spins around in my office chair, giving me a bright, childish grin as he sees me who's struggling to get up.

"morning sunshine," he greets.
"good morning," i mutter back, voice tired and raspy.
"slept well?"
"i guess."

i swing my feet over the side of the bed, placing them on the floor and heaving myself up. a sudden feeling of hunger hits me like a cargo train at full speed. i'm usually used to it but yesterday's meals must've awoken the old primitive cravings in me.

this is spiraling downhill already and clay isn't leaving until next week. i'm losing control and i hate it. clay motions for me to come over but instead i walk out the door and into the kitchen before he can realize anything's wrong. i need a cup of tea.

the corner cabinet is where my stash is located. i stock it with all kinds of different flavors around once a month. it helps me focus, and it most of all eases the shitty hunger pains.

i grab a nearly empty box of black tea without really looking. with my other hand i reach for the electric kettle standing so conveniently right next to the sink. the tap turns on with a squeak, allowing me to fill it with cold water to boil. i've quite frankly started to enjoy the bubbling sound the kettle makes when it's doing its thing. at that point i can basically already feel the bitter taste on my tongue.

next to the boxes of tea are mugs to drink from. most of them have a simple black design with white squiggly lines of paint added on. i got them from my mother when i moved out as one of her many housewarming gifts and have loved them ever since.

but sometimes i get huge waves of guilt washing over me as i drink from those mugs. they get me thinking about mom and how she has no idea what's going on in my life. she has no idea what i've become, that i'm just a husk of my former self now. i bet that if she'd show up at my doorstep today she'd cry seeing how lifeless i look.

the kettle beeps, signaling that the water's finished boiling. i snap out of my painful thought process, bringing a mug over to the counter and filling it up. the tea bag i picked out nicely soaks into the hot liquid, gradually dyeing it a warm brown color. i carry the mug out of the kitchen, leaving the drink as it is, with no milk or sugar.

"i was wondering why you just left," clay comments as i enter the room again, "but now i get it."
"my tea is kind of a big deal," i scoff, chuckling after my statement.
"so the stereotype is true. british people love tea."
"shut up."

i take a sip, walking closer to clay's computer screen to see what he's up to.

"i'm just perfecting the code we made before i left florida."
"the ender dragon one?" i curiously ask.
"yeah. come look at it yourself."

since clay has stolen my only chair i'm left confused and searching for something else to use as one. my only option is the wooden stool i made back in 7th grade which is standing in the corner of shame behind a few large plants. it's so small, uneven and ugly that i'd be ashamed of bringing it out from there.

"wait, i'll go get a chair from the kitchen-"
"noo, you don't need an extra chair! just sit on my lap."

i shrug, giggling like a little girl at his proposition. when i get close to him he picks me up and plonks me down on top of him like i'm nothing more than a ball of cotton. it gives me a strange, familiar feeling that i choose to ignore.

whenever clay removes his hands from the keyboard, even if just for a couple of seconds, they seem to always find their way back onto my body. sometimes he hugs me from behind, other times he messes with my hair and traces the skin on my neck with gentle fingertips. i don't know how he expects me to be able to proofread and fix his code when he's being so affectionate.

"hey, just a question," he starts, speaking so close to my ear that it sends shivers down my spine.
"yeah?"
"can i call you baby? i-i get if you're not comfortable with that but i really think it suits you."

i let out a small gasp and a high pitched, nervous laugh. god am i thankful that he can't fully see my flustered face.

"sure you can," i respond.

he kisses my neck, fucking up my previous decently calm breathing.

"you're just so cute," he purrs.
"you're complimenting m-me too much, way too much."

"well what else should i do, stare at the sunset all evening when there's something so much more stunningly beautiful right here in my arms?"
"that was so cheesy, you're killing me," i point out, my pitch wavering.
"i know baby, but i mean every single word of it."