love, sex, dreams - dreamnotfound

❦ 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒓𝒕𝒚-𝒐𝒏𝒆

his chapped lips wrap around the cigarette as he takes a drag. his emotionless stare is fixed to the floor. he traces a crack in the old tiling with his fingertips like it intrigues him, though his expression bears no interest whatsoever.

"what's going on?"

my question comes out as a croak because of the lump in my throat. i've been holding back tears for ten minutes now, and it's starting to hurt.

george doesn't respond at first, so i scoot a little closer to hold his free hand. it's limp and cold, yet i can feel a slight squeeze around my own.

"he.. hit me," he mumbles, "after i told him i wanted to break up."

his voice is low, monotonous. it doesn't seem like he's fully present.

"he'd been acting strange all week, actually. more drawn back, i guess. kinder. i think.. he knew i was with you. and was just waiting for me to say something about it."

"uhm, but, i waited around until now to speak up. i don't know, when i woke up today i kinda just decided i'd had enough. so i did it."

i rub circles into the back of his soft hand to soothe him. he doesn't seem to mind, or care either. his mind is somewhere else, busy in its own little world far away.

"and he hit me. expected. but he wouldn't let me go. and i kicked and screamed and kicked and screamed but he just held me down."

"i-i didn't even know he still kept shit around, maybe he's dealing or something but..."

he coughs, turning his head away.

"he went out and came back, held me down.. i- couldn't move. and before i knew it i just- drifted away."

"god, i was so scared but it felt so wonderful..."

his head flies back, eyes closed, resting up on the side of the bathtub. his lip has begun to bleed, but he doesn't even seem to notice.

"i know why he did it. smartass. but i have you now."
"what if he comes back though?" i wonder, "what do we do then?"
"i don't know, kick his ass again. i heard everything from over here."

i frown, running my fingers gently through his hair.

"and then i'll get the cops called on me?"
"don't worry about that, frank would never talk to cops," george chuckles, "bastard's got too much trouble with them, it isn't worth it."

"i'm just worried, hun.." i sigh, placing my head on his shoulder, "i want you to be safe."
"i'll be fine."

he exhales a thin cloud of smoke, eyes dreamily gazing up at the discolored ceiling. he looks so at peace, but i know it's artificial. i huddle closer to him, burying my face in the crook of his neck so i don't have to think about it.

"i'm sorry."
"about what?" he questions.
"this, a-all your progress-"
"oh. yeah. but i'll get by."

i know that he isn't in the right mindset to talk. but it hurts that everything is uncertain. his poison scares me. i don't want him to slip away. i don't want him to slip right out of my grasp like sand, now that i've finally got him in a steady hold. now that everything is supposed to be sunshine and rainbows again.

"we're leaving this shithole at least," i mumble, "we're taking your things and we're leaving."
"yeah, i know, let me just.."

he takes a deep breath, lips parting.

"have a moment..."

his body relaxes against mine as his head drifts away again. i want to cry but no tears come out.

the yellow ceiling light flickers. the tar stains seem to haunt me. smoke clouds my vision, clouds the whole room. nothing really feels real.

i see us in the mirror on the wall. we're hunched over, snuggled up together. my hair is messy and dirty, his is no better. i look dead. the left side of my face where i was hit is swollen now, little scratch marks etched into the otherwise smooth skin. it's a mess. it's all a mess. and i'm exhausted.

i think about today as clay in the mirror stares back at me. he looks just as miserable. his knuckles are bruised and ruined, still bleeding in a few places. i don't know if that's just mirror clay or if i can't feel it at all.

when i blink, he blinks too. when i tap my fingers against my thigh, he mimics it. he's a strange being, mirror clay. he's an element of reality, yet he doesn't even exist. my brain ties knots on itself trying to figure it out. and over me hangs a looming darkness, one filled with questions.

why does the world have to be so unfair? why can't my beautiful boy just be happy for once? why can't he ever be free?

and as if george could read my fleeting thoughts, he turns his head to face me. our eyes meet, his are tired and bloodshot, cheeks stained with dried tears. his fingers tangle into my curls, and he pulls me closer to connect our lips in an ethereal kiss.

i'd almost forgotten how amazing it feels to kiss him. we do it slowly, so slowly, for a whole minute. he only tastes like cheap tobacco now.

"everything will be alright," he whispers once we've pulled away.

his expression isn't so convincing, but i still take his word for it.

even in this dismal state, he's beautiful. i can feel my heart speeding up just from being close to him. a simple touch of his hands, a graze of his fingertips, is enough to send little sparks of electricity all throughout my body. no matter what we've been through - or what we'll go through in the future - my love for him will never die.

it will live through even the hardest challenges, through snowstorms and hurricanes, earthquakes and tsunamis. through brutal wars, devastating famines, merciless droughts. i will always stand by his side, love him and care for him like i have no other purpose on this planet. because he is my world now.

and when i see him this helpless, it feels like i'm suffocating, like my heart is shriveling up into small, useless pieces of dust. my world goes dark.

george eventually leaves to go collect his clothes, and what's left of his other personal items. there's no longer a shielding warmth present to keep me safe. i begin to shiver. i shiver alone with clay in the mirror.

i know i could get up and help him pack, but my legs are too weak. my arms are too weak. i'm stuck on the cold bathroom floor, slouching against the tub.

not until george comes back and sees me wallowing in emptiness do i stand up, with the help of his hand. he shoots me a pained smile, still slow and dizzy from the high. it makes me think that maybe, one day, everything will be okay. we have each other, after all.