hobbledehoy

Write Me Something Pretty

I love the mornings.

On Thursday's, I only have afternoon classes, so I have the morning all to myself.

Unfortunately, I have been feeling quite unwell this morning. A headache that was making my vision blur, and soar throat that was making me sound hoarse.

Normally I would stay in bed, like this, staring up at a boring ceiling. But I didn't want to waste a day. SO I rolled out of my bed, and my naked body was immediately hit with a blast of cool air—and it made me shiver as I tiptoe to my small kitchen.

I pull out a small pot and fill it with some water, then I place it on the stove top. I threw a couple packages of Ramen noodles onto the counter, then I left the water to boil while I went to fetch some clothing.

I yawn loudly as I slouched over my dresser, searching for some pants and boxers. Most of my sweaters were folded in a specific and orderly fashion in the closet to my left. Dark colors to lighters, and noticeable patterns to less noticeable patterns.

I wasn't planning on going out until evening, so I just decided to ditch the pants—and just go with a longer pair of boxers, just in case Merlynn drops by.

I choose a heavy sweater, a plain black one that hangs from my body and down to my thighs.

Feeling chilly again, I speed walk back to the kitchen and stick my noodles in the pot, turn the heat down, and turn on the radio.

Ah, Keane, love them. And their song, This Is The Last Time.

After turning the volume up close to it's max, I spin around and rush into my bathroom. Also small, but nothing about our dorms are big. Just a simple sink, toilet, and shower—no bathtub included. That's okay, bathtubs make me nervous, I'm in constant fear that someone is going to walk in and shove my head underwater.

What a dreadful way to die. Don't you think?

Yeah...

I'm the kind of person that needs the water temperature to be just right. I don't want to freeze to death, but I also dislike having my flesh melted off, so...

"This is the last time... that I will say these words..." I sing loudly, as I step out of my underwear and into the shower.

I run my hand through my wavy black hair, and scratch my scalp as I pour some shampoo into my hair with my free hand.

I wash myself thoroughly and repeatedly. Until my skin was bright pink and tender from all the harsh scrubbing.

Finally, I shut the water off and step out.

Dry off. Get dress. Brush my teeth a couple times.

I pull my extra pair of glasses out of my mirror cabinet, large squares. Now that my vision isn't blurred, I could see at myself clearly.

I scratch my chin, because I had the beginnings of some facial hair coming in nd I always forget to shave.

"Oh, forget it..." I scowl and continue itching my chin, and then my long nose.

Still having hours of free times in my hands, I get my noodles and walk into my living room—where my laptop and an unfinished story were sitting.

I sit down on my sofa, the coffee table sitting in front of me. I scoot the Leven Thumps book away, and apologize for not giving it the proper attention and love all books deserve—but time is limited, and I've already wasted so much of it.

I open up my Macbook, and find another unfinished story waiting for me. But this one was one I've been writing.

"Hyrum? Brosaurus, I'm coming in! Don't be naked!" I hear Merlynn exclaim as she begins unlocking the door.

I was about to get up, but like lightning, she was in my dorm and sitting beside me with her usual cheerful smile plastered across her face.

"Nice boxers!" She smiles innocently.

My face flushes a bright red as I glance down then back up, but I didn't bother hiding my Hunger Games underwear.

"Ha ha," I force a laugh, "Team Gale..."

"I prefer Finnick, but whatever."

Merlynn watched me type. It made me a bit uncomfortable at first, but then I almost forgot she was there.

"Are you writing?" asks my friend.

"Yes." I answer.

"A book?"

"Yes."

"Will you write me something?"

"Yes—wait, what?"

She picks up my Leven Thumps book and rests her head on my slim shoulder.

"Maybe something pretty? Like a poem or something..."

I shrug lightly and pull up a clean document sheet on my laptop.

I knew she was watching, I could hear her breathing, so I began writing the first thing that popped into my head.

My world was dark, my world was lonely. But you came into my life, a little glimmer of light...

When people ask what I see in you, I just smile and look away because I'm afraid if they knew, they'd fall in love with you too.

Oh crap. Maybe I wrote a little too much... A little too sweet.

I was about to say something, to explain that I meant love like in a friend way.

But before I could get anything out, I felt a soft pair of lips being pressed against my cheek.

"Write some more?"