The Art of Dilapidation (Kellic)

11: Counting Sheep is Overrated

I think I've officially lost my mind. Some might consider that an odd thought to have running through one's head early on a Monday morning, but it was routine procedure for me. I was in constant wonderment over my mental state. How does one lose one's mind anyway? Does it just disappear? Where does it go? Couldn't it at least explain where it was headed and why it left? Sanity is an odd thing. One minute it's there and the next it's gone-poof! like a rabbit in a magician's hat.

I buried my face in my hands, trying to banish these absurd thoughts from my head. Then, of course, I found myself thinking yet again about the one thing that seemed to occupy my consciousness more than anything else those days, Vic. Well, to be more specific, how I felt about him. Somehow that boy had managed to keep me from sleeping all night, leaving me to sit there on my couch in the dark at four in the morning with thoughts of him swirling through my head. It was impossible for me not to think about him when he lay just up the stairs, sleeping soundly in the bed I had insisted he take. How could I not be wrapped up in the memories of how his lips had felt gracing my cheek? Of how his hands had felt on my skin? Of how his fingers had interlocked perfectly with mine? Of how safe and secure I had felt wrapped in his arms? With Vic there was so much to think about, so how I could I not spend my every waking moment reliving those instances with a strange sense of longing deep in my gut?

I wanted so desperately to run up there to my bedroom and beg for him to hold me again like he had on Friday when he had cradled me in his arms and made me feel protected. I wanted him to kiss my forehead and tell me that everything was going to be alright, even when I knew it wasn't. I wanted a lot of things from Vic, too many things.

The curtains fluttered in the breeze from the open window as I sat there in perfect silence. Why did I want these things from Vic? Why did I want them so badly that it hurt? For a moment I felt a bit like crying, but I was getting kind of sick of spending my nights in tears. Instead I got up and went to get a glass of water. I sipped on the cool liquid, staring out the window. The stars shone bright and I was reminded of the way Vic's eyes glimmered and twinkled just like those flickering specks of bluish white in the sky, except his eyes were so much better. I hissed in annoyance, pulling the curtains closed. Why did everything remind me of him? Why couldn't I just spend one minute without letting him invade my thoughts?

Suddenly a cry of terror pierced the air, shattering the silence in an instant. My grip on the glass involuntarily released, sending it crashing to the floor, as I realized whose voice had made that scream. Ignoring the mess I had just made, I rushed up the stairs and into my bedroom. Vic was lying on the bed, thrashing about in a twisted tangle of sheets. His face was a contorted mask of fear as he cried out again. My own mind was consumed by panic as I flew to his side. "Vic? Vic, wake up," I murmured, shaking him gently. He gave a low moan of discontent and I shook harder. "Vic? Wake up. Come on," I said, speaking a tad bit louder. "Vic!"

His eyes flew open and I sighed in relief. He threw his arms around me and I hugged him back as he gasped for air. "It's okay. It was just a dream," I whispered, trying my best to sound reassuring. "You're okay."

"It wasn't me I was worried about," Vic replied weakly. I sighed and let him bury his face in my neck, holding him gently. His warm breath fanned over my skin, sending shivers down my spine and causing goosebumps to rise. I was acutely aware of every place his body came in contact with mine. I could feel his hand resting just between my shoulder blades and his lips just above my collarbone, barely brushing against the exposed skin. I tried to think about anything else, but I couldn't.

"Do you want to talk about it?" I asked, my voice breathy and soft. Vic shook his head and I slowly sat down on the edge of the bed next to him. "Are you sure about that?" I murmured, trying to get a word out of him.