What a wonderful dream it was. Time to wake up… I slowly opened up my eyelids while I rubbed my eyes with my two hands. While my mind was about to have its daily warm-up, I got a glare from the powerful rays of sunlight breaking through the faded curtains of the room. My hands stroked the arms and fingers that were around me protectively. I, also, realized a warm, breathing body was leaning towards against my back. The tip of a nose nestled nicely in my hair.
All I hear is the air-conditioner, the twittering birds outside of my window and a light snoring from my back. It was comfy; cozy, really. I should be cleaning Mr. Buttons’, litter box...right now. But I’m trapped in this grip. I felt the hunger from my stomach go up my throat, making me feel a big lump in the middle of my gullet.
I decided to turn around, facing him. The bed bounced with a squeak from the spring in the mattress. I blinked quickly; feeling surreal from having someone special sleep in the same bed with me. He wore a snug black shirt with grey sweatpants on. I laid my hand on his cheek. I watched carefully as his nostrils flare every time he exhaled. I stroke his soft cheek with my thumb softly and cautiously without making him wake. His cheeks, they were a faded colour of red and pink; his lips and skin had gone pale. My focus went a little to the left; where his long eyelashes were. I felt the warm air blowing against my collarbone from his nostrils. His chest went up and down slowly in a rhythm. For once, he looked fragile; vulnerable.
I watched his eyelids flutter… Oh no… Did I wake him up? I drew my hand back into the blanket. Before I knew it, “Good morning,” he said slowly as his lips unstuck themselves from each other.
Hoarse yet velvety his morning voice was. I gave a soft chuckle; my throat went completely dry as soon as I spoke with the lump still jammed in there. His hands squeezed my waist, “What’s so funny?” He squinted then added, “Man, the sun is really hitting my eyes.”
“Nothing--nothing,” I shook my head a little. Our conversation was quiet, subtle. His voice got rougher and deeper as he spoke more. He smirked, and then his fingers quickly ran through my hair. It was an amazing feeling although it was quick.
“Did I wake you up?” I kept my hands away from him, giving him a sign that I was concerned about bothering his slumber by just creepily analyzing his facial features.
“Nah, I’m good,” he rubbed my arm. The colours were brought back to life: his skin turned into a tanned colour; his rosy cheeks were starting to fill their colours in; his eyes, oh his eyes, were glistening as the sunlight bounces off his iris. I noticed his hair was an absolute mess. My heart pounded faster as he looked deeper into my eyes; none of us wanted to speak up. I thought I was having a deer in the headlights look because I was pacing myself to let my fingers sink into his messy hair.
“Pancakes.” He just said with another smirk forming upon his face.
“What about them?”
“Can we have them later?” His teeth bared themselves to me; how perfectly white and straight they were.
“Umm…” I got cut off.
“With maple syrup? Maybe?”
I lay on my bed with awe. Listening to his morning voice was the thing I look forward to; somehow it was in a, dare I say the word again, perfect line between rough and silky. My empty stomach that was painfully craving for food filled itself with butterflies. I felt fuzzier as more butterflies formed.
“Sure…” I said dreamily.
His smile grew wider, “You’re the best.”
He craned his head to kiss my forehead while giving my hands a tight squeeze all at once. Kicking off the blankets, he walked to the bathroom—scratching his bed head. I watched his baggy sweatpants sway as he walked and his back flexing.
“Meow,” Mr. Buttons decided to slip himself into my room.
“Oh hey, Mr. Buttons!” he greeted him before closing the door of the bathroom.
Then it hit me, all he wanted was some pancakes; not really bothering about me; just his pancakes and making sure he gets them. Oh, he’ll get them alright.