i wake up on a cold bed in a crummy studio apartment in new york city. a boy with ocean-eyes and a slight stagger strolls over to the bed with a mug of lukewarm coffee in his hand. by the time he plops himself down onto the wrinkled sheets, i will have already propped myself up on a pillow against the wall touching the head of the mattress. i rub my eyes and yawn. he looks over his shoulder and sighs. before he goes to take a sip out of the mug, the corners of his lips tug up, forming a sapped smile.
“you're awake,” he breathes.
“yeah.”
“how did you sleep?”
“good, i guess. you?” i scratch my wrist and then pull my hair up into a ponytail.
“same as always.”
“nightmares?” he nods, taking another sip.
i crawl up beside him and rest my head on his shoulder. hmm. i hear the CLANK of the mug being set down on the nightstand. i look up. he pulls me closer to him and hugs me for what seems to be five minutes. five silent minutes. five minutes of steady breathing. five minutes
