Coffee and Cigarettes
Different
Light slept against his eyelids, nestled in every fold and gentle curve of his chiseled face, tingeing his cheeks in the pinkish hues of the sunrise. The flannel sheets lay comfortingly around his frame: entangled with his legs, engrossed in his body. His breath came slow, relaxed, as he savored this in-between world. Everything was fuzzy, out of focus, but misted in the dust of dreams. His fingers tingled under the weight of his body, but still he tried to delve into the magic land once more. He wasn’t ready to wake up just yet…
Unwillingly, he shifted off of his side, rolled onto his stomach, trying to detach himself from the mess of restraints that was his bedding. His toes brushed something warm, and he lingered there, trying to fit his mind back together.
A new sensation filled his head then: musky, and sweet, and different. His brow furrowed, unable to decipher between dream and life. Coffee, he distinguished, burying his head farther into the softness. And, he paused, nodding off for a moment. Smoke, he recalled. Cigarettes. Again his toes brushed the warm surface, and they trailed down this time, entwining with the flesh of another.
Drearily, his eyelids peeled back, disturbing their sleepy occupant. Blinking while allowing the headache to pass, he drank in the surroundings – drank in his companion. He reached a hand over to caress the pale face next to him. He saw a smile flick across the mouth, and the corners of the eyes crinkle together. And that was enough for him, to last him an eternity.
The figure shifted, reached an arm up to hold his hand, running his thumb across the other’s fingers. His eyes blinked sleepily against the light as well, shifting across the boy’s face, not straying too long on any given feature – just taking it all in.
“’Bout time you woke up,” the blonde smiled playfully, pulling his head closer to the body across from him. He could hear the thud of the blood beneath the skin, could almost feel it traveling through the scarlet haired’s veins. He could almost feel it washing through his own veins.
The red head rolled to his side, lifting a hand to smooth over the boy’s pinking cheek. “Ya…” was all he managed, through a tilting grin. There was that haze again, the dream haze. Just seeping out of every pore, and dripping out of both cherry lips. The blonde closed his eyes, and breathed in, almost too deep to recover from. Just taking in the coffee, and the cigarettes, and the different. Living on the different.
Unwillingly, he shifted off of his side, rolled onto his stomach, trying to detach himself from the mess of restraints that was his bedding. His toes brushed something warm, and he lingered there, trying to fit his mind back together.
A new sensation filled his head then: musky, and sweet, and different. His brow furrowed, unable to decipher between dream and life. Coffee, he distinguished, burying his head farther into the softness. And, he paused, nodding off for a moment. Smoke, he recalled. Cigarettes. Again his toes brushed the warm surface, and they trailed down this time, entwining with the flesh of another.
Drearily, his eyelids peeled back, disturbing their sleepy occupant. Blinking while allowing the headache to pass, he drank in the surroundings – drank in his companion. He reached a hand over to caress the pale face next to him. He saw a smile flick across the mouth, and the corners of the eyes crinkle together. And that was enough for him, to last him an eternity.
The figure shifted, reached an arm up to hold his hand, running his thumb across the other’s fingers. His eyes blinked sleepily against the light as well, shifting across the boy’s face, not straying too long on any given feature – just taking it all in.
“’Bout time you woke up,” the blonde smiled playfully, pulling his head closer to the body across from him. He could hear the thud of the blood beneath the skin, could almost feel it traveling through the scarlet haired’s veins. He could almost feel it washing through his own veins.
The red head rolled to his side, lifting a hand to smooth over the boy’s pinking cheek. “Ya…” was all he managed, through a tilting grin. There was that haze again, the dream haze. Just seeping out of every pore, and dripping out of both cherry lips. The blonde closed his eyes, and breathed in, almost too deep to recover from. Just taking in the coffee, and the cigarettes, and the different. Living on the different.