5SOS Book of Imagines

CTH // Sleepyhead

Bombay Bicycle Club — How Can You Swallow So Much Sleep

"Is it late enough?"

I softly whisper as the traces of the sunshine start to seep through our little space, with the rays of sunlight starting to illuminate parts of us. I stay curled next to you, scared that the sunlight would take you away, that the day would take our little time together.

"Can I wake you up?"

Knowing how grumpy you are at mornings, I ask. Maybe I'd know if it really is time to wake you up from your deep slumber. Maybe you'd greet me with a sleepy, sweet smile and say good morning. Maybe you'd hug me tighter and softly grumble how you still want to sleep. And we'd sleep in until the noon comes, until our stomachs are the ones waking us up, reminding us of our mundane needs.

"Is it late enough?"

Would the chirping birds be enough sign that we're already in the middle of the hours of morning and surely, you should have woken up by now? That perhaps we should start creating new memories and face the day with my hand tightly woven into yours, our steps in time with each other's. That perhaps I can finally see the way you squint against the sunlight and take my hand to shelter ourselves from the blistering heat.

There's a story in which my eyes shut.

I remember last night too clearly. Me in your arms, your soft voice filling the room as you told me a story I don't recall. Your gestures were big and grand, as if telling the story to a small child. But I was a small child to you. I looked up to you in reverence, in love. I admire your way of looking at things, at your philosophies and beliefs. I love hearing you talk, I love shutting up and letting you take the spotlight, letting you be the star. I love watching you glow with passion as you told me how strongly you believe in some things.

"Can I wake you up? Is it late enough?"

I desperately ask as tears fall on my face, looking at what's left of the time I had with you. I wanted to at least kiss you one last time and see you bid me goodbye but I knew I can't.

I didn't wake you up; it wasn't a job for me to do. It was for your girlfriend, and I'm pretty sure she's coming in a while. I had to make my escape, had to go and leave silently, without a trace of what happened. It was just a dream. Last night was just you and me. And now I was alone. You were taken by your dreams, then by your girlfriend, while I'd be taken by my daydreams and then by my grief.

What happened last night was a drunken mistake on your part but a dream come true for me. I kiss your forehead one last time before walking away, leaving a small whisper to be carried by the wind to your waking self.

"Goodbye, sleepyhead."