7 Days (BxB)

~26

          By the time the movie was over and everyone had left, Noah and I were still there, drowsy and practically drunk. He was basically asleep, yet his hand still lingered in the air where mine met his, our fingers intertwined, searching every callous and line. They were a shadow against the night sky of brilliant stars. "There's Orion," I would say, or maybe I would point out the "big dipper" which was actually the little dipper, but the bigger one sounded cooler.

I couldn't stop watching him, listening to his even breathing through the silence of the night. If a murderer were to come up to us right now, I wouldn't even look away.

We fiddled with each other's hands, a foreground against the stars.

"Noah," I whispered.

He grumbled in response; my heart swelled.

"We should get back."

He shook his head lazily. "I don't ever want to leave."

With my free hand, I touched his button nose of freckles, trailing my finger to barely touch his lips. The action felt wrong but oh so right. "I don't either. But it's almost eleven."

"Shit," he breathed.

I chuckled. "This is almost worse than drunk Noah."

"We don't talk about him, remember."

"Oh," I smiled. "Right."

We fell silent. After a bit, I thought he had fallen asleep, but then he lifted his hand to clasp mine, keeping it on his mouth. I was entranced. I never wanted to leave. Did we really have to, truly and utterly?

Yes, we did, because Mr. Maddison was still out there, and he was still an asshole. Though I couldn't disturb the sleeping beauty.

With all the strength I had from the night of relaxation, I scooped him up bridal style. It really wasn't that bad; he didn't weigh much. I carried him to his side of the truck, where I buckled him in with one last long look and returned to pile the pillows and blankets into the truck.

The drive back was silent, peaceful, interrupted only by the sniffles of Noah or a lurch of this stupid stick-shift. Totally worth it, though.

I helped him up the tree, his hands blindly searching the air to grip onto a branch. His eyes remained half closed, and I couldn't help but laugh at his laziness. Finally, when he was safely in his room, Noah popped his head out of the window one last time. "So I suppose onto Sunday," he said.

I nodded, hands clasped behind my back. "Onto Sunday."

"And after Sunday?"

"Well," I pondered this. "Then comes Monday, I guess."

His eyes glimmered with hope, a hope he was trying to conceal. "And you'll be back."

I let out a long, deep sigh. "Noah Maddison, I will be back for you until we run from this place. I will be back until you can't stand to look at me anymore."

"I can promise you that day will never come."

I grinned, starstruck, and he returned the look. "Good."

Onto Sunday.