Good Morning
The Story
Dawn.
The best time of morning when the sky is awash in grey, pale pink and blue giving itself up to the shades of gold that is yet to come.
It’s his favorite time of morning.
It’s also one of the very few times of the year when he wakes up from a deep slumber to squint sleepily into the metallic rays of the coming day from his bedroom window. His honey brown eyes take on the color of the sun and his messy brown strands take on a luminous quality. A small smile graces a pair of full lips. It’s all beautiful to him.
He sits up slowly then looks down on the bed where he lies, in the room he’s called his own since childhood. He isn’t alone. Three extra resting bodies occupy the space; his space. The smile grows a tad bit more.
On his queen-sized bed, there are two other sleeping figures – one stretched out, his childhood best friend; and the other curled on his side, a new mate. On a nearby couch lies a boy made up of long, rail-thin limbs hanging off the arms of the furniture. Long and lanky he takes up the whole couch; his ear-length, eternally bed-mused hair taking on the same golden glow but with hints of red.
Honey brown eyes turn to the long and broad body lying next to him on the bed, his longtime companion. The growing rays of sunshine setting on light tinted brown chin-length bob framing brooding, yet soft features that he’s admired since they were children. Slow, rhythmic breathing – in, out.
Shift.
The boy freezes, silently willing the other to wake not just yet. His friend’s body lies still once more. A slow, silent exhale of breath in relief. Eyes then turn to the figure on his right where the other’s eyes are covered by tufts of thick black spirals that shine silver instead of gold. He, too, has the deep breathing of someone in the throes of sleep. The softly smiling boy wonders if he’s dreaming and what he’s dreaming of and if he’s dreaming of him.
The sun is almost up now.
The air is still. The intensity of the gold rays begins to falter. The lone conscious figure in the room feels restless. His smile fades slightly.
His gaze returns to the boy on his left, then he leans over to place a soft kiss onto symmetrically full, pink lips. The sleeping boy does not move. The boy frowns now and sighs quietly. He gingerly gets up and climbs over the prone figure. Bare feet hit the carpet; his footfall goes unheard. Two steps bring him over to the sleeping boy on the couch and eyes flicker over his face. He then repeats the morning wakeup call by placing a kiss onto cherub-lips. No change in movement.
Brown eyes narrow.
They then turn to regard the ringlet-haired boy curled in the fetal position with hands tucked under his head. The boy walks over to the right side of the bed, places on hand on the bed for balance, and leans over to place his last kiss on lips that seem to be perpetually smiling. He straightens back up and stares steadily at curled figure for a few seconds.
One one-thousand.
Two one-thousand.
Nothing.
A small frustrated sigh that takes on sound emerges, then, a shift on the bed. The younger boy stretches himself out and rolls onto his back with a soft moan. Curls shift to let bleary-eyed chocolate mix with honey. The older boy standing cocks his head to the side slightly in greeting. The fast awakening boy yawns then smiles. “Good morning, Julian.”
Downturned lips lift up once more. A smile for a smile. “Good morning.”
The best time of morning when the sky is awash in grey, pale pink and blue giving itself up to the shades of gold that is yet to come.
It’s his favorite time of morning.
It’s also one of the very few times of the year when he wakes up from a deep slumber to squint sleepily into the metallic rays of the coming day from his bedroom window. His honey brown eyes take on the color of the sun and his messy brown strands take on a luminous quality. A small smile graces a pair of full lips. It’s all beautiful to him.
He sits up slowly then looks down on the bed where he lies, in the room he’s called his own since childhood. He isn’t alone. Three extra resting bodies occupy the space; his space. The smile grows a tad bit more.
On his queen-sized bed, there are two other sleeping figures – one stretched out, his childhood best friend; and the other curled on his side, a new mate. On a nearby couch lies a boy made up of long, rail-thin limbs hanging off the arms of the furniture. Long and lanky he takes up the whole couch; his ear-length, eternally bed-mused hair taking on the same golden glow but with hints of red.
Honey brown eyes turn to the long and broad body lying next to him on the bed, his longtime companion. The growing rays of sunshine setting on light tinted brown chin-length bob framing brooding, yet soft features that he’s admired since they were children. Slow, rhythmic breathing – in, out.
Shift.
The boy freezes, silently willing the other to wake not just yet. His friend’s body lies still once more. A slow, silent exhale of breath in relief. Eyes then turn to the figure on his right where the other’s eyes are covered by tufts of thick black spirals that shine silver instead of gold. He, too, has the deep breathing of someone in the throes of sleep. The softly smiling boy wonders if he’s dreaming and what he’s dreaming of and if he’s dreaming of him.
The sun is almost up now.
The air is still. The intensity of the gold rays begins to falter. The lone conscious figure in the room feels restless. His smile fades slightly.
His gaze returns to the boy on his left, then he leans over to place a soft kiss onto symmetrically full, pink lips. The sleeping boy does not move. The boy frowns now and sighs quietly. He gingerly gets up and climbs over the prone figure. Bare feet hit the carpet; his footfall goes unheard. Two steps bring him over to the sleeping boy on the couch and eyes flicker over his face. He then repeats the morning wakeup call by placing a kiss onto cherub-lips. No change in movement.
Brown eyes narrow.
They then turn to regard the ringlet-haired boy curled in the fetal position with hands tucked under his head. The boy walks over to the right side of the bed, places on hand on the bed for balance, and leans over to place his last kiss on lips that seem to be perpetually smiling. He straightens back up and stares steadily at curled figure for a few seconds.
One one-thousand.
Two one-thousand.
Nothing.
A small frustrated sigh that takes on sound emerges, then, a shift on the bed. The younger boy stretches himself out and rolls onto his back with a soft moan. Curls shift to let bleary-eyed chocolate mix with honey. The older boy standing cocks his head to the side slightly in greeting. The fast awakening boy yawns then smiles. “Good morning, Julian.”
Downturned lips lift up once more. A smile for a smile. “Good morning.”
♠ ♠ ♠
Disclaimer: This story is completely made-up and untrue. Thank you.Also, I hope you all didn't find it too confusing! Reviews and constructive criticism are very much appreciated. Thanks!