#its literally just sitting in the middle of my bedroom floor and the bunnies are Not pleased

[ikonislife]

Road.

Bobby x Reader

Angst + Fluff

Warning: just a few F-bombs

“I can’t believe you called me over because of a fucking clogged drain.” 

You exasperate as you push pass the tall boy hovering at the doorway, not really caring what he has to say. All you wanted is to get this over as quickly as possible so you can return to your first day off in months. Just a half hour ago, you were wonderfully drifting among the cloud of your dreamland when that annoying default ringtone that you never bothered to change went off giving you a rude awakening. To make all matters worse, you had picked up without even checking the caller ID only to cringe at the voice spewing out of the speaker.

“Well, hello to you too.” 

He sasses you back, making the discomfort in his voice obvious before sauntering back inside the house, slamming the front door. You shoot him a glare sharper than any sword, knife, cutlery since the beginning of time combined.

“Don’t give me that. You’re the one that called me at 7 in the morning to come over, don’t act so miserable.” You scoff. Bobby was the sweetest guy you know but when he wants to give you attitude, it was worse than a wet cat in the middle of winter.

“Miserable… Oh, wow. You don’t even know. Uh, I’d probably be less “miserable” if my ex isn’t making herself at home on my couch. On that note, could you please not make it seems like you live here cause you don’t.” 

This is gonna be a long morning and you were far from prepared for it. You had always imagined running into Bobby for the first time in over a year looking like a damn Victoria Secret’s angel - glow the fuck up, making him drools sort of thing. It’d happen in a club or mutual’s friend house party, you’d be slightly tipsy (you know, confident boost… or really just help you forget all your filters and common sense), dancing sexily amongst the crowd, catching his attention. Well look how life’s a bitch because here you are, sitting in the living room that once was yours in legging, an oversized t-shirt that you’re pretty sure belongs to him, not a lick of make up, and hair in the messiest of bun.

While Bobby, well he’s just being Bobby. You had huffed into the house so fast earlier you didn’t even realize just how damaging his look might be for your poor soul. With a scowl on his face, his eyebrows furrow just the slightest. The way he clenches his jaw out of the thought of you sitting pretty in his home, you can’t deny, it’s hot as hell. Then there’s that’s nervous tick of his. Whenever things get a bit too complicated for this idiot’s liking, he’d licks his lips incessantly then roll the plump lower lips under those bunny teeth. Oh and you know, the fact that he had decided to completely forgo his shirt, letting his tone upper body mingles with the sun’s ray, tantalizing your soul so much it hurt a bit that he’s not yours to touch anymore. The way his sweatpants hangs so damn low on his hip that it left little to imagine. Your eyes tracing out the deep V line leading straight under the elastic band covering the thing that makes your core dully aching a bit. Catching yourself drooling, your index inconspicuously drags its nail up the inside of your hand, hoping the pain would snap you out of your day dream that was now having you wish you could run your tongue up his abs. Luckily for you, it seems bunny boy had been too lost in his own thought to notice, evident from the way he’s sheepishly scratching the back of his head, eyes flickering toward the master bedroom. 

“Are you hiding someone in there, Bobb?”

“What? Huh?…Oh… No. Why’d you say that?” Your sudden question got him stammering like a kid that ate candy before dinner. 

“Cause your eyes had been glued to the bedroom’s door ever since I sat down.”

Your observation finally rips his eyes back to you, to your gaze. Completely fluster by your intense stare, his muscular arms shuffles around a bit, attempting to cover up whatever it could of the firm chest and broad shoulders. 

“Oh, the clogged drain… it’s in my bedroom. And can you stop scrutinizing me with your eyes, it’s weird.” 

“Why? I thought you like it when I keep my eyes on you…”

You rasp, inching closer to the shy boy that was now blushing with the intensity of thousand suns. You hadn’t mean to sound so, so seductive to be honest but somehow with the early hour, tired body, and the confusion of being back here, in his place got you all work up. It clearly came off just as wrong as you thought because his eyes now stuck onto your features, clearly entices. You hold yourself mere centimeters away from him for a few seconds before hissing into a small snicker, moving away.

“Can we get this over with so I can go home and sleep, please.” You call out to the still flustered Bobby, walking straight to the bedroom but before your hand feels the cold of the door knob, it was already being firmly yank away, giving you a full view of the rough hands you loved to toy with whenever you couldn’t care less about what was going on with the world. 

“Damn, you are hiding someone in there. Afraid I might scare her off?” You retort as snappy as you could, not letting him onto the excitement you’ve been hiding of seeing his private place once more after so long.

“No, I already told you. I just have things in there that you don’t need to see. You don’t live here anymore, remember that.” 

His expression tenses up. It scares you a bit how fast he could flip from being the cute shy boy with the bunny smile to match the crescents of his eyes to the manly guy with that haughty stare. His jaw once against seize up with discomfort, making it look even sharper than you had remember. After all you had spent countless afternoon lazing on his lap, staring up at that strong jawline. It surprises you a bit to think maybe you don’t remember him as well as you thought you do. His adam’s apple dip then rise continuously, drawing your attention to his high collar bones, milky and smooth, lack of all the crimson and purple blooms you had so often left behind. Your eyes trail up to his face again as you swallow nervously, his words suddenly hit you like a tsunami. You don’t belong here anymore.

“Right… I’m sorry.”  

Your voice falter and it sends guilt upon the stern face. Dropping his lips into a pout, he had never once thought there was a day when you would be a stranger in his home. For as long as he could remember, you know every single aspect of his life. He can tell you the deepest darkest secret and trust that you would never use it against him. To think that there now exist things he would rather you not see, well, that kills him just a bit. He had alway imagined you would be the one, THE one. 

���Sorry, I didn’t mean to come off so malicious… Give me a second.”

With that, he lets go of your hand and slips away into the safety of his room. A good 5 minutes past by before the familiar door swings open to a completely foreign room. This wasn’t the one you had spent endless hours tidying up because he’s a clean freak that’s too lazy to do any actual cleaning. That bed, or at least the sheets, isn’t the one you had tangled up in moaning and panting his names while he begged for you to come undone. Hell, it’s not even in the same spot as it once had. The spot that once held the bed now support a small couch. The pictures of happy times on the wall replaced with various posters and trinkets. The only familiar thing that put a gentle smile on your face is the pile of clothes in the middle of the floor. Something never change.

“Right, so the drain… Why am I here again? Instead of a plumber?” You breath out, almost raggedly. Unbeknownst to your wandering eyes, it caught his attention. 

“The plumber should be back soon, he’s just under the house fixing the pipes. Sit, make yourself comfortable I guess.”

You had began to trek toward his bed before the realization of it’s not your bed anymore hit you hard as you stumble to the couch and flopping down. The pain of the break up was rather mild to get through when you didn’t have to be in such close proximity of Bobby. You hadn’t realize how much you miss being in his place since the second the relationship was over, you up and left. You had no time to say goodbye or to linger to the place that was home for so long. Staring at the familiar unfamiliar place now, your heart swells a bit. You were glad he moved on from you but at the same time, jealousy rears its ugly head. You think of the girls he had brought home, the one he will bring home and truthfully, it hurts. 

“How are you?”

He unexpectedly speaks up, clearing the silent out of the room. You eyes return to his, sighing softly.

“I’m okay… You?” You smile weakly, hoping he’d give into the conversation a bit more.

“Good, good…” 

Unfortunately your invitation clearly miss by the boy as his voice falters once again. Bobby had settled himself on the edge of his bed, studying your ever changing expression closely. After breaking up, he had seen you once when you came to pick up all your belongings and that was filled with tears. Seeing you again in his home stirs up emotion, presenting it neatly in the air. Wondering what you’re spacing out about, he was about the speak up before a voice that didn’t belong to you nor his speaks up.

“Okay, it’s finally fixed. Here’s the bill, you can pay online before the weekend is over. Have a good day.”

The older gentleman tip his cap to you before making his way back out the front door with Bobby in tow. After seeing the plumber off, he returns, holding the bill tightly in his fingers.

“So…. Wanna tell me why I’m here? Why’d you say it was half my fault the thing broke, I haven’t been here in over a year, Bobb.”

“The plumber found so much fucking hair in the pipe I could make a wig out of it.”

“What? Maybe it’s all the girls you brought over. I literally haven’t been in your shower in so long. How would you know if it’s me huh? wouldn’t it have break down a long time ago if it really was because of me?” 

“It’s long fucking curly ass hair, whose else would that be? Seriously, why do you keep bringing up other girls?”

Cold and harshness suddenly return to his voice, pushing you away from the happy memory of giggles and the soothing voice  that lulled you to sleep in this room. If distance is what he wishes to put between you two then that’s what you’ll give him. You had honestly hope to be friend with him once again but had always thought being friend with an ex you’ve never gotten over wasn’t the best idea in the world. Seeing his reaction now, perhaps you made the right call.

“I heard about you- how you changed, Bobby. They told me how much you changed since we broke things off. You don’t have to lie to me, I don’t judge. You know that.”

He groans loudly at the thought of the vultures hanging around you, feeding you gossips about him. He had never liked the crowd you choose to surround yourself with. Lord knows how many arguments ensued stemming from his disapproval of your choice in friends. In a way, he had always blamed them for a fraction of why your relationship with him soured the way it did toward the last few months of being together. 

“Whatever. Fuck those gossiping asses. You can foot for half the bill and we’ll be done here. You can get rid of me for good.”

The glimpses of fights, ugly words, and door slamming flashing in your mind like a quick preview of exactly why this place wasn’t home any longer.

“God, you’re impossible. You could just text me or send me a request on the bank app. You had to wake me up at 7 in the morning, on my day off to come over here. Here I thought I’d take the chance to check up on you… Sorry for the intrusion.”

That all so familiar feeling rises in your throat except, maybe this time it’s different. It’s not anger, it’s distress. You were about to let Bobby slips out of your finger once again. In all honesty, you had hope he would call but he never did. You wanted to call him but perhaps too prideful, too weak to just say sorry. Just like how you’re too proud, too fragile now to say anything other than spite.

“I don’t have the cash on me right now so I’ll drop it off later or something, how much do I owe you?”

“300″

“Christ, 300? Ugh, whatever.”

Although you were more than vexed of the rude awakening this morning, in the back of your mind, you were still elated at the thought of seeing Bobby. Now, all you want is to get the hell out because he had made it very obvious you were less than welcome here. He stands there, chewing his lips, mulling over what to think of your caring words. Why would you want to check on him after how things were left off. 

Not really caring about the how or the why of the broken pipe, you storm out of his room in a rush, knocking Bobby over who had just decided threw himself in your way, betting against all odds that maybe you still love him. Along with the loud thuds of body crashing, the smallest, clearest clinks could be heard along the wooden floor. Panic engulfs the previous concerned face as you roll off his body, arm reaching out toward the source of the small noise. He stammers “no” while crawling along the floor but you were always too fast for him, still too fast for him. Your jaw dropped and you freeze on the floor. Much to your surprise, it appears to be a dainty rose gold band with a gleaming diamond in the middle, surrounds by a small halo of smaller diamonds shaped like stars. Along the band, two small crescents sit prettily on the two sides of the diamond. 

“So this is what you were hiding…” 

Your voice falls back to a gentleness that shakes Bobby up visibly. Something about the calmness in your voice that tells him beyond the obvious amicable tone is sadness lurking about. You grab his hand in yours, placing the small ring into his palm before closing his fingers around it, purposely lingering a bit too long just to remember the way he used to hold yours.

“Bobby, you know you don’t have to hide these things from me… Despite all that happened, I support you 100%. If you found someone you love enough to propose to then I’m happy for you…” A small smile lingers on your weary lips. It kills you to know his heart now has a permanent owner, someone that you could never, will never be. 

“Y/n… I did want to hide the ring from you but not because I’m proposing to someone… I hid it because, well because I bought it for you.”

Your eyes blown wide open. A ragged gasp audibly tears through the clear of the house, lingering upon his words. Your hands go limp, dropping away from his but at light speed, he already caught it, pulling it up to his lips for a quenching kiss.

“I bought it for you, babe… Before everything went to shit between us. I thought about returning it but I guess deep down I always thought, hope you’d end up back with me somehow…” A small chuckle drops from his lips as his hand caress the high of your cheek as if waiting to catch the tears that were about to fall . “Wishful thinking. That’ll be the death of me.” His eyes returns to yours, staring with the gaze that had you head over heels for him the first time you saw him across that record store. Truth is, you’ve never gotten over his smile, his warmth, his heart. The past year felt like a big blur of stumbling into work then crashing into your bed late at night. 

“…You know all you had to do was hit me up. It’s not like I ever stop loving you.” 

You exhale so easily the sentence that you had been wanting to say the second you packed up. You crack a small hopeful smile, within second, his eyes hide away, a grin chases yours.

“I guess I got tired of sitting around, being useless, wishing you were still with me so here I am, making up lame excuses to get you to come over. Pathetic huh? I guess I was wishing if you come over more often then maybe something will happen.”

He sighs, cheek blushing, eyes averting your gaze out of rather than embarrassment, you’d say it was shyness. Just like when he had asked you for your number while being lost amongst the endless stack of 90′s hiphop records after noticing your hands clutching onto the last 2Pac album in stock he had wanted to get. 

“I could you know, pay you 10 bucks here, 5 bucks there. That would be what, oh I don’t know, like 30-40 trips before I finished the 3 bills I owe you. If you want, I could make it happens.”

You smirk mischievously, fingers grazing the soft tan skin of his abs while your body inching closer to his as if asking to be in that amazing embrace once more. Taking the hint, his smile full blown, hands cupping your face securely before bringing his forehead to rest on yours. 

“You’re so crazy, you know that. I love it. On that thought, I think I prefer taking the payment in pennies. One penny a day till you pay it all off.”

“Oh yea, that could happen. Plus, you know, we still gotta settle on who gets the 2Pac record. I’ll settle for custody of it on even days, you can get the odd days.” your hand firmly plants against his chest while the other one wrap fully around his torso, crawling onto his lap as he lean back against the wall. His chuckle crisp against the air, a big contrast to the warm breath fanning your face. 

“Or you know, I’ll make you lunch and we can discuss you moving back in while we eat. We can put the record back on OUR music library shelves.” 

His chest heaves heartily from the sweet giggle filling your surrounding space, illuminating it up with ethereal lights you’ve been missing for so long. He presses a big kiss onto your cheek before gingerly resting your face onto his chest, arms securely boa constrictor itself around your torso.

“Yea?”

“Yea” He whispers softly into your ear, landing a quick peck on your cheek. 

“The drain isn’t broken, is it?” You quip suddenly, raising an eyebrow curiously at what he has to say. 

“How’d you know?” He whispers softly, clearly shaken up that you had figured out the lie that had gotten you back in his arms in the first place.

“The worker, his jumpsuit has the internet company’s logo, genius.”

Startled at the speed in which his lie is unravelling, all Bobby could think of is how to mend the bridge connecting him to you. He’s running at full speed on a fragile overpass made out of deceits. Your words like an explosion, tumbling that bridge down to the water of hate and all he could do is to try his best not to fall.

“I’m so sorry. I, I have no excuse. I was just so desperate. I know if I had just call you out of the blue, you wouldn’t… I’m so sorry.”

“Hey, don’t worry about it. I’m not mad, baby. Like I said, I’ve never stop loving you. If I really wanted to, I could’ve send my sister over but I didn’t. I wanted to see you, Bobby.”

“You mean it?” Tear threatening to fall, he stares into those eyes he had thought would hate him but all he could see is love. 

“Of course I do. I mean, I don’t think I would say yes to your proposal right now… We still got a lot of issues to work out before we take that plunge but just know, there’s no one else I’d rather be with. Lying is bad, yes but a lie that brought me back into your arms without harming anyone along the way. How bad could that really have been? So how about we put that ring back in its box for now and start off with a nap and then lunch?”

“God, I forgot how mature you are about everything. That sounds perfect, babe.”

With a longing kiss, he carries you off to the bed that’s about to be yours once again. Reaching over to his nightstand, he pulls out a small brown leather box then sits the small ring neatly inside, eyes fill with hope. 

“One day.” You whisper gently, wearing your heart on your sleeves. The road ahead will be long and rough indeed. Who know where it might leads you but if one thing the break up had taught both of you is that no matter how ridiculous the road, if you don’t try walking through it once, you’ll never know of its end. 

[lovelylovelyartist]

Cue The Sun

(Inspired by This Song )

Carlos blinked his eyes, once, then twice. He started to stretch, but stopped himself when he noticed the arms around his middle. The corners of his mouth quirked in a small smile. In a sleepy haze, he found the hands attached to the arms around his middle and pressed a kiss to each knuckle one at a time. A scientist is always thorough.

Even if it’d been years since he’d started waking up like this, the novelty of waking up in those arms never wore off. Speaking scientifically, it was irrational. Logically, repeated exposure to stimuli should make one more or less immune to said stimuli. Illogically, Carlos hoped he never would.

Carefully, so he wouldn’t wake the other, he unfolded himself from the loving embrace. He carefully placed the hand that had previously been pressed against his chest to the pillow, so Cecil was more or less in the same position. The scientist shifted, his feet on the soft-carpeted floor, and turned to look back at his boyfriend. His bangs were tousled so they hung in his face a bit, and his face appeared unworried and peaceful, as if there were nothing in the world that could disturb the pleasantness of his soft features. Carlos knew, and occasionally hated, that this was not the case. That a lot of things in Night Vale could force those features to change, to shift to expressions of fear, or anger, or pain. But even with this knowledge, it was nice to have the image of a peaceful, content Cecil.

Carlos smiled. The mattress squeaked almost silently beneath him as he leaned, then brushed those bangs from Cecil’s forehead, and kissed his temple. Even still asleep, Cecil smiled, pushing his face into Carlos’s pillow with a happy little hum.

Were it possible, Carlos would’ve fallen even more in love instantly.

Carlos yawned quietly, taking his plastic framed glasses from the bedside table and slipping them over his ears. His joints creaked and popped in complaint as he stood, worn with age and a life lived with little restraint. He shuffled across the bedroom to the ensuite, and followed his usual morning routine of toilet, washing his face, brush teeth, etc. He didn’t have to go to the lab this morning, but he found that if he didn’t follow the same routine in the mornings, he often forgot to do things at all. That excluded those days that took a lot more fight, when even the smallest tasks took deliberate thoughts to do specific deliberate actions. Generally, though, routines were good.

With the tingle of overly-minty mouthwash still in his cheeks, he quietly walked out of the ensuite and through the bedroom. He closed the door behind him, walking down the hall to the kitchen. He hummed quietly, the house still dark and quiet from the sun not having risen yet. He made his way to the coffee cabinet, where Cecil kept nearly every coffee and tea known to man. Carlos didn’t trust himself to be able to hammer coffee beans quietly, so he opted to make the pre-hammered stuff today. He filled the coffee machine with water and (quietly) chanted the appropriate incantation to make the spirits of the coffee machine recognize his pleas, his acknowledgement that he is but a puny mortal making a request of powerful immortal beings and thanking them for their assistance, and made sure the coffee filter was in the basket correct, because the last time someone had made coffee it came out with a little more grounds than what is normally preferred.

Carlos hummed as he mixed the ingredients for pancakes, delighting in the sizzle and hiss when the batter made contact with the skillet. Five years ago, he barely cooked. He mostly sustained himself on microwave burritos and pasta, with the occasional crock pot meal when he was feeling ambitious. Generally anything that he could easily fix and consume quickly so he could get right back into work, or at least what was easy to fix and eat when he realized he’d forgotten to eat that day and needed quick nourishment. Then he started waking up at someone else’s apartment. And having someone else wake up at his. And wanting to make breakfasts for that someone. The same someone who showered him with praise and thanks and love and affection for the gesture, even when he accidentally summoned an eldritch horror by overcooking the green beans. (Although, after it had been returned to its Lovecraftian dimension and the meal was served, Cecil did comment that food was much more satisfying after having to fight for it and Carlos couldn’t help but agree). Carlos chuckled at the thought. How people change.

The coffee machine gave a strained gurgle and a low whine, and Carlos switched it off. He emptied the filter into the trash, which purred in thanks for its daily coffee fix, then poured some of the bitter liquid into a mug. He poured coffee into a second mug, then took some of the almond milk from the refrigerator to sweeten it. He took a tentative sip from the sweetened coffee, and set the unsweetened mug on the other counter.

He hummed, using a spatula to flip the circle of pancake batter on the pan. It made a loud hiss in reply, the edges bubbling a bit in the butter. Carlos glanced out the window above the sink, at the dark horizon. He’d woken up before the sunrise. Cacti dotted the horizon in purples and greys in stark contrast of the brown sand, their arms stretched like villagers worshipping some long dead god. Carlos flipped the cooked pancake onto a plate, and poured batter for another, and then another when that pancake was done.

Carlos was happy, inexplicably so. Not to say he wasn’t happy most days, but this day he felt even more happy than usual. It was one of the rare days that he and Cecil had a day off together. Since those days were often few and far between, as they are with plenty adult relationships, when they did happen, Carlos spent the day walking on air. (Not literally, thankfully. Although the last time that happened, they did manage to get a lot of spring cleaning done.)

Carlos jumped slightly in surprise at the sound of the sudden shriek. He glanced up at the window again, seeing the sun just beginning to peek over the horizon. The sky was awash with color, a dark, dark purple fading into a gradient of reds and blues, with a light green just touching the pale yellow of sand. The scientist smiled, feeling a sense of wonderment at the sight. But at the same time, he couldn’t help but feel as though the sight was incomplete.

He glanced at the coffee cup on the counter, the liquid inside still hot, still bitter, and still unsweetened. He knew it would be a little selfish. But at that moment, he wasn’t sure he minded. Or that Cecil would mind, either.

The scientist split the pancakes between two plates, and put a dollop of whipped cream and bloodberry syrup on both stacks. The plates made a quiet ‘clink’ when they were placed on the front porch, along with a fork and knife with each. He took the sweetened mug, and put it next to one of the plates, then took the unsweetened mug with him into the bedroom.

Carlos smiled fondly at Cecil, whom in his absence had slowly morphed the blankets into one solid cocoon on his side of the bed. Carlos set the mug on the bedside table, and peeled the blankets away from Cecil’s face. “Sweetie, wake up,” Carlos said softly, kissing him on the cheek.

Cecil made a muffled little “mmf” noise, trying to bury himself back in the blankets. Carlos laughed, tugging the blankets down a little more, and shaking his shoulder gently. “Sweetheart, wake up,” he urged, “I made coffee?”

Cecil opened one eye, squinting from lack of glasses, and his mouth curled into a little smile. “Mmmm,” Cecil’s voice was heavy with sleep. “Good morning, my love.”

“Good morning, sweet pea,” Carlos pressed little kisses to his mouth, smiling the whole way through.

Cecil made another little “mmf” noise, but instead of hiding himself in the blankets he slowly sat up, stretching his arms and wiggling his hands like a cat kneading. Carlos waited for him to finish stretching before he put the mug of coffee into his sleepy hands. Cecil smiled and took a deep sip from the mug. “Not that I don’t love you waking me up with coffee, but what’s this all about, bunny?” Cecil asked, a small, sleepy smile over his lips.

Carlos smiled, a little sheepishly. “There’s a really, really nice sunrise this morning.” he explained, “I wanted to share it with you.”

Cecil’s sleepy smile got a little wider for a moment. “Oh, Carlos, honey,” he said, “That’s so sweet.”

Carlos kissed his forehead, still smiling. “Not as sweet as you, my honey voiced honey.” Carlos hummed, “come on out to the front porch when you’re ready.”

Carlos took his own coffee from the kitchen, and brought two pillows from the couch to sit on from the living room. He smiled as he sat down in front of the plate, taking a sip and letting his hands wave around a bit in happiness- no, not happiness. Contentment. Happiness is not the same as contentment. Happiness is like a marching band, loud, grand, and beautiful in its own right. Contentment was more like a solo pianist, subtle, reserved, but beautiful all the same. Carlos hoped he’d always feel that kind of “solo pianist” kind of contentment, especially when it came to his time spent with Cecil.

He heard the door creak open, and saw Cecil- wrapped up in a sweater over his NVCR tee shirt and flannel pajama bottoms. He had his dark hair brought up in a loose bun, and the coffee cup in both hands. Cecil smiled, and Carlos’s heart melted. “You made breakfast, too?” Cecil asked.

“I made breakfast too.” Carlos nodded. “Pancakes, with whipped cream and bloodberry syrup.”

Cecil sat down on the cushion, putting his coffee mug aside and pressing a kiss to Carlos’s cheek. “I love you.” Cecil hummed.

Carlos chuckled quietly, looking down at his own mug. It surprised him every time to hear him say those three words, so honestly, so whole-heartedly. He hoped the novelty of that would never wear off, either. “I love you too, Cecil.” he told him.

The screaming sunrise brought their attention back to the horizon, perfectly visible off their front porch. Cecil held the mug in his hands, leaning his head on Carlos’s shoulder. He hummed dreamily, like he could nod off again (even with the screaming).. “You’re right,” Cecil said softly, “It’s a beautiful sunrise. Very neat.”

Carlos put a hand to Cecil’s knee, rubbing his thumb over the soft fabric. “I’m glad I got to share it with you,” he said softly. “Sunrises are beautiful, and very neat, but scientifically speaking, they’re at least a hundred times more beautiful, and even more neat when I share them with you.”

A03