Coma ➷ Izzal

Chpt.7

Infatuation transpires between reality and expectations; for sure, it bleeds through. What you see in reality surfaces upon your dreams, highlighting these moments emphatically as though they were bound to mean something.

For Axl, Izzy was the centerpiece beyond his wildest illusions, beyond those dreams of escaping and flying. And in reality, he was Axl's everything.

Axl dreamt of kissing Izzy's lips in Lafayette whilst shrouding in the thrill of detention. The students surrounding him were unfamiliar, in such a way that Axl failed to remember if he was in the correct school. He never paid mind to his surroundings— always stuck within his little world, and as much as his mother scolded him for it, it seemed to be the only safe place for him.

His head resting upon his forearms, Axl peered at Izzy across the room with twinkling eyes. His friend (his only friend) was immersed within a book, attempting to pass the time by mindlessly scanning through pages. Axl could tell from his distance that Izzy was mainly scrutinizing the pictures, rather than determining the meanings of the excessive dialogue and prose. He was sat in the front row, two columns of desks enforcing a schism between them. That was how the chaperoning teacher preferred things to be— all of naughty kids sat within an elongated distance between each other to prevent interactions.

But Axl still found some way to feel closer to Izzy.

Through his dreams, of course.

He imagined what those same fingertips scrolling through that book would feel like upon his jaw, what Izzy would sound like whispering sweet nothings in his ear. The thoughts were a bit queer, although Axl never seemed to mind them. He admired the idea of Izzy being his, mainly because Izzy was perfect in every which way. Izzy had saved him, and he had provided him friendship in times where he needed it most.

Axl wanted Izzy in every way he could get him.
Although now, romance was merely a dream.

The ginger's head perked up a bit when Izzy turned his cheek, flashing him a sly wink and mouthing the words 'Let's get out of here'. Izzy never seemed to worry of doing the unthinkable, and that was one of the million things Axl adored about him.

He was eccentric, but not in the paranoid way Axl was. He was eccentric in ways where he didn't care for the ruthless thoughts of others. He enjoyed records Axl would never dare to look at, and he enjoyed skateboarding throughout the brinks of dusk. And though Axl preferred staying in school to escape his brooding father, Izzy stayed in school to harass the teachers until he was condemned to detentions like these.

Axl loved it all.

Axl stood up slowly, quivering as the teacher's eyes instantaneously grazed into his skin.

"I need to use the restroom," he told meekly, and before the teacher could question his intentions, he was waltzing out of the class. He waited for Izzy when he reached the end of the hallway, at peace with the idea that there was no one around to treat him with obscure glances and mocking words. When Izzy arrives, it would only be the two of them.

Surely, in only a matter of minutes, Izzy was dashing down the hallway, gesturing with frantically waving hands for Axl to run.

Axl didn't need to ponder what trouble Izzy had gotten himself into, because he was already running. He was running with the speed of someone escaping death row, running as though preparing for lift-off. When Axl ran, his troubles were miles left behind, and nothing else was more surreal than the embracing feeling of wind catching his skin.

They won't catch me.

Axl ran until the sun was burnishing his skin, until he could feel his feet submerged within the untrimmed grass of the lacrosse field. He staggered over himself and collapsed to the ground with laughter flooding from his lips. Only a few moments later, Izzy was laying down beside him, a wide grin on his face as he shook his head.