a chuisle mo chroí ♡ JFK ✔️

𝐗𝐗𝐕; 𝐬𝐤𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐠𝐫𝐞𝐲 ☁️

It wasn't the sun that woke them up. Jack and Alice found themselves awake way before it was time for dawn. For whatever reason—perhaps they were both already well rested—they practically simultaneously opened their eyes and found each other's stares. An indescribable, intimate moment that still felt like a dream. Because neither of them could believe that they should have the privilege of welcoming the morning together and so peacefully.

At some point in the night, Alice had rolled off him, and found her place at the right side of the bed. Still, being aware of his presence made her rest feeling safe and sound. There were no strong nightmares that time. At least, none of the degree that woke her up in a cold sweat and screaming in terror.

"You forgot to pin curl your hair," Jack pointed out with a groggy morning voice.

"I don't mind." She gently smiled.

"It looks beautiful like this. Falling over your shoulders, tickling your collarbones."

Alice scooted to the center of the bed, where he was, and rested her hand over his bare chest. She pressed her lips against his, making sure he would let her kiss him for as long as possible.

"Happy birthday," she said, affection pouring out of her beautiful gaze.

They talked in bed until the sun finally began rising. When the first ray entered through the gap between the curtains, Alice knew it was soon going to be her cue to leave.

However, a knock at the door beat her to it.

"Jack?" A woman's rough voice called him at the other side.

The doorknob shook. Knowing it could turn at any moment was worse than a horror movie. Alice wanted the bed to swallow her.

"Don't come in, mother!" Jack told Rose loudly.

"Why not?"

"I'm... I'm nude!"

"Nonsense. I'm your mother, for Christ's sake," Rose said, as if it was justifiable.

Alice hid herself under the sheets as soon as she suspected Rose was going to go in no matter what her son said. And she was right.

Maybe it would have been better to throw herself to the ground and roll underneath the bed. But it was too late. Rose was inside, and the only thing standing between them were a few sheets and Jack's body pressed up against her in an attempt to make hers go unnoticed.

Jack also pulled the sheets up to his neck.

"What did I tell you?"

"You weren't having one of those 'happy mornings', were you?" She wearily asked from the doorway.

A humorous snort inevitably escaped Alice, and Jack had to cover it up with by clearing his throat. He tried to ignore his mother's inappropriate insinuation.

"Why did you have to come in?"

Jack felt embarrassedly similar to a teenager, with his mom barging into his room without permission again like she used to do.

"I wanted to ask you what you wanted for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. It's your birthday, after all."

"I don't care. Whatever. Surprise me," he told her, rushing through the words.

Just as Rose was turning away, she spotted a small-sized pajama, badly folded on top of a wooden chair.

She pretended to not have seen anything, and walked out. When she was outside and the door closed, Jack exhaled a breath as if he had been underwater for all that time.