365 Days

182

182

I've always wished to wake up one morning with the guy I love in the bed beside me. I've wished for the day where I could lean over and kiss him on the cheek as he dozes in and out of sleep. When I could pull his arm around me like a blanket to shield me from the dangers of this world (in this case, me in the mornings).

When I was told I'm not going to live past eighteen, I realized I will have to sacrifice this. I didn't think it possible for me to find someone who I would like enough to sleep with, in the most innocent meaning of the word.

And then this handsome eighteen year old waltzes into my life with a ridiculous little game, changing everything. Waking up to him has become a routine for me; so habitual that I don't notice it is out of the ordinary. Now I'm not saying I love Alex, because that isn't possible. But it's the closest I will get to granting my own wishes and I can't complain.

He mumbles something in his state of unconsciousness beside me and then he stirs. His eyes slowly blink open, squinting at the light coming in through the curtains.

"Morning," he mutters, sleep thick in his voice, before falling back to the pillow. "What time is it?"

I glance across at my alarm clock. "It's ten, sleepy head. Time to rise and shine."

"Time to not move all day and sleep."

"Mmkay."

I start to believe it's not a joke after about five minutes, when Alex's breathing has steadied again and he has become quiet.

"Alex. Were you being serious?"

"Duh. It's Sunday. Sunday is sleep day. Or movie day. Yes, let's watch movies. Good idea." Listening to him speak when he is sleepy is like listening to a three year old speak; speaking only in short phrases that could magically form big-boy sentences if he tried. If he tried.

"How about a music day?" I volunteer. "No one has music days anymore. Just listening to good music the entire day."

"Food break, yes?" He props himself up on one elbow, his attempt at raising his eyebrows failing dramatically.

"Yes," I laugh.

"Good good. Good." He pulls his phone off the bedside table and taps on it for a little while, before music starts playing softly through the room.

"I love this song," I tell him, getting my phone to find my favourite music. It's Tenerife Sea; the song we danced to last night.

"I can tell," Alex says, tapping the rhythm on his t-shirt clad chest with his fingers. I scramble to the other end of my bed and lean against the bedpost, my legs across Alex's.

"But this one is better," I say, tapping the words Cherry Wine on my phone so that it starts playing.

"You like the mellow stuff, don't you?"

I've never really defined my music taste before, but I guess you could say "Yeah, I do. Don't you?"

He shrugs. "I'm indifferent. I more listen to bands like U2 and Green Day, but the mellow stuff is good to stay calm and what not."

We've became friends in May and now it's November, and I feel like this is the first time I'm getting to know the basic details of Alexander Stanton. So I turn this into a game of my own, trying to find out more about him than I currently do.

"U2 is good. Dad listens to them a lot. What's your favourite song by them?"

"Vertigo from their How To Dismantle An Atomic Bomb album, although my favourite song in general currently would be Tenerife Sea."