dreary daydreams

two; midnight messages

BEFORE
January 1, 2015
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Ted: We need to do something about this, and soon.

Ted: It's driving me insane.

> god, tell me about it :/

> sometimes I think back to our seventh grade year just to remember a time where we actually did talk

Ted: Maybe we could think of a time and place to hang out after school?

> just because we have an official meeting place doesn't make me any less shy

> Ted?

> hellooo?

> whatever

> goodnight, I guess.

Clementine plugged her phone into the outlet, set it on her bedside table, and closed her eyes.

Minutes by the dozen had passed, but she had yet to succumb to sleep; her heart was beating frantically from having texted Ted, sheets that were drizzled with sweat stuck uncomfortably to every curve of her body, and her stomach's moans signified the hourly reappearance of hunger.

She wiggled out of her clothes beneath the covers, leaving her in just undergarments, her skin bare otherwise. But she was restless still.

Clementine balled her fingers into fists and kneaded her eyes; rolling sluggishly onto her side. She checked her silver-plated radio clock, and in a dull red it blinked back to her a confirmation-- that it was way past her bed time.

She peeled back her covers and slipped out of bed, her calico cat, who had been curled up on an over-sized doggy bed, watched her leave with piercing green eyes.

In hushed footfalls and sleepy yawns, Clementine padded down the hallway, through the living room, and into an ominously dark kitchen. She made her way around by touch; grasping door handles and sink faucets before she finally came across the light switch by the pantry door.

She flicked it on. And when a pair of hazel eyes found hers amongst the shadows of the not-too-distant living room, she nearly screamed.

"Fucking hell, Brendan! Who do you think you are, lurking in the dark like that?"

He grinned this half grin, where one end of his crooked smile would curl up farther than the other, and stepped out of the shadows with his hands raised in a mock surrender.

"Your older brother who just wanted to scare his weak ass little sis."

She laughed and her heart raced and she felt shaky from the inside out-- because god damn him.

"Then congratulations," Clementine said, resting her hip against the cold, granite countertop. "You won."

At this point, Brendan had sauntered his way into the kitchen, opening and closing drawers without any consideration of their sleeping parents. Though his back was to her, she could hear the crinkle and snap of a plastic bag in his hands; she didn't ask any questions, because she could care less of what her obese brother could be conjuring up at this ungodly hour.

"What do you consider winning? Because I honestly doubt a fat, gay, single man should be awarded of any medal."

He smiled greedily and truthfully, spinning around from the refrigerator to face her with a bag of gummy bears and two cans of Coke in his hands.