clocks

6

Dream

When his eyes roll back and he starts to fall, I scoop one arm underneath his legs and the other under his back, so that I can carry him. My feet just about touch the bottom of the lake, so I'm able to lift him out of the water.

At first I think it's a seizure, but I'm nearly a hundred percent sure he would've mentioned something like that to me. Gracie seems to notice something is wrong, too, because I can hear her splashes as she follows behind me in the water.

I kneel once we reach solid ground and I place him down in front of me, but I cup my hand underneath his head so it won't be left against the hard rock. I bring my face to his slightly open lips, and my heart seems to release from a clench when I feel his soft breaths hit my cheek.

My shaking fingers push the annoying little pieces of hair from his face. I reach over as far as I can with my hand still under his head and grab his t-shirt from the rocks, so that I can wipe the water off of his face, and his chest.

"George?" I call, pressing the back of my free hand to his forehead to see if he's too warm or too cold. Cold, much too cold. I lean across the rocks again and grab my own sweatshirt, laying it across his chest.

I'm starting to panic a little, now. He said it was okay, did he mean it's actually okay or was he just saying that so I wouldn't start to freak out? I shake him a little, by the shoulder. He's definitely breathing, that means it's all okay, right?

A minute or two passes. I continue to shake him, and utter his name but nothing works. My hand slips underneath my sweatshirt so I can press my palm against his chest, where his heart is meant to be. It's beating, steadily enough, so what the hell is the matter?

Then, whilst I'm concentrated on trying to count the seconds between his heartbeats, my own heart going a million miles an hour, I hear him take a small, but loud, breath. My gaze races back to his face, where his eyes twitch— and then open.

I take my hand away from his chest, but I still have my other hand resting under his head. "George?" I say, as he blinks once or twice. "Are you okay? Do you need me to go and get you anything?"

He doesn't answer, and tries to sit up, but I push him gently back down. "No, stay there for a minute. I don't want you going back out again," I tell him, readjusting my jumper that fell down his chest when he tried to sit up.

"It's okay," he mumbles, closing his eyes when he lays back down. His speech is a little slurred, could that be a sign of— "I'm okay, stop worrying," he scalds, as though he can read my mind.

The two of us fall quiet, my hand under his neck, him breathing in through his nose and out through his mouth with his eyes still shut. I watch him, his chest rising and falling with every long breath he takes.

He kissed me. I wonder what's taken him this long, I thought he was going to ask me to stay when I came to his room last night. His fingers had pressed into my back, his hands had massaged at my neck and just before he pulled away, he kissed the back of my neck.

"I panicked," he murmurs, eyes still closed. He seems a little embarrassed. He draws a hand to his forehead, and lets it sit there, making it look like he's slapping himself on the head.

"You panicked?" I repeat, looking at him curiously.

"I panicked," he agrees, swiping back his hair with the hand that had been on his head. "When we— you know, I panicked. I couldn't catch my breath. That's all."

He then sits up, and now I let him. He's already got a small bit of colour back in his face. His fists ball up my hoodie in his hands. I sit back a little, because now that he's sat up, we're too close.