𝐁𝐋𝐔𝐄 𝐒𝐔𝐍𝐃𝐀𝐘 -bob dylan

─ 𝘻𝘪𝘮𝘮𝘺, 𝘯𝘰

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾　　☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙

people have told their sons, daughters, grandchildren throughout generations that yawns were contagious. people also through generations came to that realization on their own at some strange point in their life. whether it be at a violin recital, or science class. in a way, they were more contagious then the flu, or some virus that people shun away.

and that's what happened.

and no, not the virius or flu part.

she yawned, he yawned. she thought about this maybe a tad too deeply. she could fall into treacherous webs of her thoughts very often. so often it became quite the habit for her. thinking was her climax. her release, if you will. it was that longful paradise secluded by stalks of spring green grass that grew upward and tried their hardest to touch the glittering sky.

but if he kept yawning- when she kept yawning. he must've been looking at her. she wanted to trick her speedy mind into believing he was gazing at her. gazing at her like she did to him. she had to continuously remind her dumb self that he was most likely just glancing at her. fatherly or friendly glances, just him making sure she was comfortable and okay.

"you okay?"

he had been gazing at her. the same amount of time it took the sun to wind down and drift off into a slumber, allowing the moon to gracefully rise in its own power- was the same amount of time he had been gazing at her.

she nodded, and it was clearer than a rich man's crystal that she was exhausted, "i'm just a bit tired, that's all." she shrugged and for a moment he thought her tone signaled her being disinterested in him.

but she could never be not interested in whatever he was doing. he knew that- too well. perhaps he would sound toxic and foolish for saying this but, whenever he needed her she'd always come around to him, no matter how their friendship would be.

"go to sleep then, i'll wake you up at eleven." he chuckled at her, lazily wrapping his length arm over his shoulders, his fingers curling as they draped down sloppily.

she shook her head almost instantly, but still took her time, "zimmy, no. it's too early, it's seven. i'm not wasting any minutes just to sleep."

he smiled at her, soon scrunching his nose at her, only to here her laugh. he always enjoyed that skipping tune of merriness.

"but you're tired, so just go to bed, rest. it's friday, everything happens on a saturday," he grinned, and once again he earned a shove as he did just a few hours ago. her eyes danced jokingly in a circle at his boring response, 

"see you're wrong there though. everything happens on a friday night, saturday's are just used to contemplate whether what you did will get you arrested or not," she shrugged, propping her arm on the arm rest, bumping his elbow off of it.

his lips twisted maliciously and as much as he wanted to look at her- only to see her reaction -he had to keep his eyes on the seemingly never ending road with chipped and dusted paint, "okay princess, then what are sunday's for? sex?"

she crossed her arms, swinging her leg over the other even with the limited space in the cramped passenger seat that was growing in steam, "no, sunday's are for church, which is pretty much the complete opposite of what you said bob- zimmerman." 

his eyes widened, hers narrowed. he beamed highlights, she frowned shadows.

"did you just call me bob? like i've been asking you since i've moved to-"

she narrowed her eyes at him this time, her blood churning in unpleasant motions as his words brushed daintily and tugged at her chords with such a force she wasn't expecting, "we promised we wouldn't talk about new york. or rather, you promised me you wouldn't speak of that place."

he nodded, re-wrapping his arm onto her, caressing her shoulder lovingly- setting her off guard, but that didn't mean she wasn't still deep in her thoughts.

"i'm sorry, i promise i won't speak of it again, not today, not tomorrow, not the day after tomorrow."

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾　　☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙