Golden Days

If All Of Life Is But A Dream

     Ryan held Brendon's hand as they walked through the tall grass, lit golden by the afternoon sun. He picked a piece and tickled Brendon's face with it, both of them giggled. And then Brendon kissed Ryan and the next thing they knew they were on the ground, Brendon on hands and knees over Ryan, laughing through connected lips.    

     Ryan finally pushed Brendon off when he tried tickling him. Both of them lay in their happy state just basking in their shared love, in the comfort and security of knowing it was reciprocated and perfectly, and they were perfect.

    They laid there just holding hands for a while before Ryan got chilly, he hadn't worn a scarf, and the fall air sent shivers through his body. So he rolled over so that Brendon was almost curled around him, not quite spooning, and he stole body heat. Brendon was okay with it though, glad to have Ryan closer. He ran his hands through Ryan's natural wavy hair and the older boy pointed out a cloud.
   

     "Look it's a guitar!" He said smiling, even though Brendon couldn't see his face, he knew the smile in his voice. It was pleasant, so perfect and content. They were both warm with each other's body heat, and the lazy sun that left patterns on their skin as it shone through the grass.

    "Of course you would see a guitar! No, it's a bird."

     "It's a plane!" They were both laughing too hard to say anything else. There wasn't even anything that funny, it was just the weather and the love drunk feeling that they both loved so much. It felt like happy, it felt like spring and summer and fall and winter. It felt like ice cream melting on the sidewalk or wet pavement or a bubble bath. It was the purest feeling, the best feeling.

    "Look at that one!" Ryan said, his voice broken up by giggles. "It looks like Sarah!"

     "Sarah?" Brendon asked, forgetting who she was, the name, the face, her place in his life. And then Ryan slipped away, the golden grass and the fall day slipped away as he awoke with his face in a pillow, and his fingers entwined in the quilt instead of Ryan's hair. And next to him lay a woman, his wife of course.

    And he began once again the steps of forgetting his dreams. But you can't write songs without subconscious and your subconscious makes dreams. And with every line, Ryan was completely wrapped into, each verse another tribute to the past love.

    But Brendon continued to live in denial, continued to forget the dreams, what his mind and heart really told him, and tried his best to remember, his wife, he loved her, he married her for a reason, he made himself remember those reasons. To forget about the past. But he could never get it just far enough behind him.

A/N   This is my first publishing piece so hurray! I didn't really plan on it, but I kinda liked how it came out so :) I hope it is enjoyed!

    -S