A Boy's Story

One step at a time (In other words: Rejection)

"Wake up sleepy head," I whispered in Josh's ear. I had woken up half an hour ago, and I had been watching him sleep. His peaceful face was calm and gentle, his looks always put me in my 'happy place.' I loved his looks. His long messy hair and those sweet brown eyes. Overall it was his heartbreakingly gorgeous body. I watched his bare, muscular back go up and down from his breathing. But of course the real reason I was speachless was because of his compatibility with me. I love him more than I could, and ever did, love someone. The way I felt about him as I watched him sleep now... undescribable.

I know for a fact this love was more than just love. It was something more... it was heavenly... he was my own personal angel. And when we kissed; it gave me more than just butterflies. My heart didnt just skip a beat when I saw his face. It stops altogether. And when he walks towards me, I struggle to catch my breath. He soft lips against mine made me want to give myself up to him. His face had me captured, he had me a slave. This was my heaven. This was where I belonged.

He started to move, waking up. I trailed my fingertips up his back, then I started tangling my fingers in his soft hair. I was sitting up right now, and he was laying on his stomach, his face turned to the right to I could see his profile. He didnt open his eyes, but he just sighed and smiled.

It was already ten o'clock, and the only reason I woke him up so early was so I could ask him about that dream last night. But suddenly I forgot how to speak when he opened his eyes and rolled over onto his back. I noticed that his bruises were gone, and I smiled happily at him. He smiled back at me- almost like last night didnt even happen- and patted his stomach. My eyebrows pulled together.

He rolled his eyes and put his hand on my thigh, pulling me over his waist so I was sitting on top of him.

"Morning," he murmered happily.

"Morning," I replied, butterflies flooding my body from the sound of his voice. He rubbed his eyes and looked towards the clock.

"Woah, only ten," he looked back at me, confused, "why so early?" he murmed. I just looked down at his chest, which looked like it was getting darker everyday.

"Because of last night..." I murmered. He sighed and sat up and held my hand.

"Honey, it was just a bad dream, I have those all the time," he said tiredly. "No big deal." But it was big deal. I had to make sure he was going to be okay when I let him go to live with his grandmother. She was an elderly woman and it was going to be hard for him; living there. But she was family and family was what he needed. I wondered briefly what had happened to his grandfather. But then I thought it would be better not to ask.

"But... your dad..." I stuttered, I didnt like trying to ask if the dream was about his dad.

"Dylan those dreams are never about my dad, they're about,-" but his breath caught and he stopped talking. He turned his head, thinking. He reached for his clothes and started to put on his old shirt.  

"What are they about?" I put my hand on his arm. He took in a deep, jagged breath before answering.

"You have to understand, I've woken up screaming your name before. But the only reason is because- in my dreams- you werent real. And when I wake up I need to make sure it was just I dream; and I still had you..." He seemed to be telling the truth. But I'm positive there's something he's leaving out.

"But what exactly are your dreams about? Are you afraid that I dont love you?" I was determined to make him talk. He looked me in the eyes, like he was getting ready to tell me something important.

"I know you love me, and I love you more than the world... but... Dylan... your not my first love." My heart stopped. The look on his face was pained, and I knew he hated telling me this. Just as I hated hearing it.