Ribs

To Noel's distaste, I like to sleep with the window open. Rainy nights are the best of all, nights like tonight in mid December are a close second. I like to open the window and put my head on the pillow and close my eyes and feel the icy wind on my cheeks. Noel likes the heat and the white noise of his TV on low volume, but my bargain is that he can only ever catch a cab to stay with me if we sleep in my conditions.

I guess that half four hot chocolate is just too much for him to resist.

Noel always burrows himself into my duvet, dark locks pooling around the white case of my pillow. I can feel his feet wriggling around at the end of my bed, dressed in mismatched socks as he tries to find comfort. Somehow his pin-thin legs always coil them selves with mine, still clad in skintight jeans.

"This bed is too small."

"It's the same size as it's always been."

"Yea, too small!" He grunts, wiggling against my back. "I can never get comfy in your bed."

"Maybe you're just hard to please."

"Hard to-hard to please?" He hisses, but I can catch the chortle on his curved mouth. "I'm the easiest to please, I'm like a baby seal, me. I'm down for whatever, natural yogurt, if I want to be."

"Natural yogurt?"

"Yes, natural yogurt." He says, failing to hide his own laughter.
"You're ridiculous." I say, turning to face him through the nightlight glow of my bedroom.
"Nah, that's you. You're ridiculous." He says, quieter now, finally still as his breath tickles my neck. I can feel his fingers loop into my pajama top, soft hair now dry against my face.

"How did we get like this? Sharing beds like little kids." I murmur with a smile, pressing my cheek to his. "How the fuck did I even meet you?"

"I spilled my drink all over you at that after party, remember?" He murmurs back, "I took you backstage but all I could find to clean you up with was that Philodendron plant. You just laughed and we ended up dancing about the green room to Tears For Fears, we weren't even that drunk."

"Oh yea," I smile, "I love that."

"It was genius."

"I miss that."

He props himself up with his hand, "Hey, don't go gettin' all sentimental on me." He says, poking my ribs with his pointer finger. "It's alright, y'know, it's alright."

"Is this alright?"

"Is what alright?"

"Us."

"Mmm," he hums, "I think 'us' will always be alright."

"But 'us' is always going to be this, isn't it?" I say quietly, "It's always going to me looking after you looking after me because I'm so utterly hopeless."

"Hey, what else are friends for? Friendship isn't about drink, or drugs, or fancy clubs." He says, "Sometimes it's just about sharing a single bed in your pajamas and your odd socks."

I watch the shadow of snow cascade over his alabaster skin from my drawn curtains. In the low light I can see his cheeks smudged with eyeliner, and I wonder if this is just from the weather or because of something he always avoids in conversation. Make believe is Noel's favorite game, whatever the circumstance may be.

"Alright?"

I nod, "Okay." and I smile again. "It's alright as long as I have a mate like you." I say, curling into the space of his arms. "Oh, shut up you little sop." He snickers.

"No, you shut up." I say firmly, allowing the coil of his legs to tighten. "Now, get some sleep."