sparks

34

George

I've never liked talking. Not until I met Dream. Whenever we moved to new towns, whenever I had to interact with cousins, conversations with me was like pulling teeth. Even I knew it.

But, Dream. He makes it so easy, so simple. Talking is like breathing with him, talking is like any other easy task.

And so we talk. We stay up until three in the morning and talk, neither of us tired since the two of us, he tells me, slept all day.

We float in and out of conversation, but there really isn't anything majorly direct to talk about. We discuss my mothers money, we discuss the marriage, a little, we discuss what we need to.

I tell him how I feel, what I'm afraid of. Hurting him. He tells me how he feels, what he's nervous about. What it'll be like when you're gone.

We try our best to make things as lighthearted as possibly, neither one of us wanting to face the facts of what's slowly drawing closer and closer.

Our departure, the end of the school year.

The main thing is, we talked. We always talk, sure, but this was different, it was, more intense.

In the morning, he's up early, per usual. He kisses my forehead once he wakes up, and lets me rest my head on his chest to listen to his breathing for a few minutes ( something he knows I like doing,) before he slips away for a shower.

The sun lightens the dust particles floating around the room. I lay in bed and watch them, listening to the water float down from the shower.

Eventually, the water shuts off, and a few minutes Dream emerges from the bathroom, towel wrapped around his lower half, his hair pulled back out of his face.

"What's the time?" I yawn, pulling the covers back up.

"Seven thirty" he responds, without missing a beat. "Since you slept all day yesterday, you're now experiencing the wonders of waking up before twelve in the afternoon."

"Shut up" I grin, rolling onto my side, closing my eyes.

"Absolutely not!" Dream calls, after a short second. He's only managed to pull his sweatpants on, still shirtless. He crouches down, beside where I'm laid.

"Come on" he says. "Get up, don't go back to sleep, we can do whatever you want. We can go play football, if you want, or we can walk into town? Just me and yo-"

"Can you read to me?" I ask him, my eyes still closed. His hand has reached out, his fingers trying to push my hair out of my face.

"Like... books?" he answers.

I open my eyes, unable to keep myself from smiling. "No, a computer manual" I laugh, pushing at his 'only now realizing what I said' face. "Yes, books."

Today is Monday, but schools been canceled because of a teacher training day. I'd completely forgotten about it to be honest, but now I'm just glad I don't have classes to face.

"Or-" I interrupt, before he can speak again, "can we go to your dads for the day? And- you can read to me there."

He stares blankly for a second, before nodding, unfazed. "You want- you want to hang out with my dad?"

I pause, then, too, because when you lay it out like that, it sounds sort of weird. "Your dad is sweet" I answer. "Not, hang out with, just sit around and talk to and stuff."

"Thats literally the definition of 'hanging out'" Dream grins. "No, I'd like that" he rushes, then nodding. "I don't get to see him enough, he'd really like that, too."