Happy Endings (a Gandrew Story)

8

It's not perfect. That isn't truly a surprise; there isn't a whole lot in Garrett's life that is perfect, and the rare times they are something always comes along to shift the balance. Not that he's a pessimist in any means- far from it, actually. But he's realistic in that he knows that he can't expect the world to lay itself out for him to walk all over.

He's just glad Andrew isn't shying out of his life anymore. That's all he could possibly ask for.

So what if maybe the smiles are a little forced? And so what if there's a pillow between them on the futon, now? So what if Andrew is spacey and unfocused while Garrett struggles with what words to say? So what?

At least they're together. At least, maybe, they can fix it. At least. Right?

He doesn't know.

/////

He has a dream.

He's in his bed and it's warm, all soft white-cotton sheets (that he doesn't even own) and golden-yellow hues. It has the sleepy vibe of waking up early on a weekend with no where to be but here. It's lovely.

And then Andrew is there. He doesn't remember turning over or moving, but now Andrew is in front of him. He's close, close enough that Garrett can make out the brown of his eyes in the soft bedroom lighting and the way it shines so delicately through his hair.

He's smiling. He's smiling and it's beautiful, only amplified by that thick, cloudy, dreamy quality to the air. For the first time in a long time, Garrett feels like he's floating again. Like the puzzle pieces of his life are all put together, like the picture in front of him is exactly the one he wants to see.

Andrew laughs, but he can't hear it. That almost makes him sad, if everything else wasn't so perfect, if Andrew didn't look so peaceful and content and handsome next to him, hair messed and with the collar of his shirt pulled down just enough to see the top crest of his shoulder. There's a dotting of freckles there.

But dreams end. That's how you know they're dreams; because no matter how real and tangible and beautiful they are in the moment, you have to wake up from them and realize they weren't anything at all.

So, Garrett takes in one last look at Andrew in bed next to him, and then wakes up in the dark sprawled across empty sheets.

Oh.

Okay. That's fine.

He gets up, knocks back a cup of water. Realizes that isn't quite going to do the trick and cracks open the sambuca bottle in his freezer.