AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Sure, shit’s a little more awkward now, and there’s still this gaping hole where my sister lingers, but it’s only because we went so long without seeing each other.
Things were bound to be weird after all the messy shit we’ve been through these last couple years, but we’ll find our groove again.
I have no doubt once this movie wraps up, he’ll call it a night, and head home.
And I’ll go to sleep, alone in an empty house, with nothing but a ghost to keep me company…
Pretending I don’t miss the days when Mason curled himself around me.
CHAPTER FIFTY
My trembling fingers betray me with the truths that still escape me
Do you hear their whispered confessions
Burrowing in your skin
In your bones
In your dreams
The angels can’t hear me
I’m praying to ghosts
My pencil stills, fingers twitching as I rest it against the rumpled page of the paper I’ve been jotting lyrics on.
Again, I find my eyes betraying me, cutting left to steal another peek at the half-naked guy sprawled out on his stomach next to me.
He was still wearing a shirt when he fell asleep last night, not even twenty minutes into the movie. Still wearing one when I passed out not long after in my jeans and tee.
Which I’m still wearing, might I add. And what prompted me to wake up—sweating, and clinging to melodies and words beating their siren song in my head.
I would’ve gotten out of bed to crack open the window, or flip on the fan, but I’d already risked waking him enough by reaching into his nightstand for paper and a pencil, because I’d stupidly left my little notebook in my hoodie pocket. And again, I didn’t want to risk waking him.
The sketchbook I have in my hands is old, and a quick flip through the first handful of pages showed familiar doodles in the skill of a child. I’d already seen these, so I knew he wouldn’t mind. But it did remind me to ask if he still had that secret one of his. The one in the blue binder.
Does he still have it? Is he still working on it, or did he give it up like I gave up piano?
My throat squeezes at the thought.
It’s been years since I’ve seen him draw. When he told me he decided to major in business, it about broke my heart. He told me he still draws here and there, but who knows if he was just saying that to placate me.
I know he saw my disappointment. I know he took it the wrong way despite my assurances.
Blowing out a quiet breath, I flip to a clean page, but pause when my fingers stick to the page, and I get a glimpse of something beneath.
Frowning, I cut Jeremy a look, ensuring he’s still asleep.
A voice warns me not to look, but it’s too late. Impulsivity and curiosity win out.
Lifting the page, I ease it away from penciled sketch of two hands interlocked in what looks like the Milky Way.
I tilt my head, and then turn the sketchbook slightly, taking it in.
A child didn’t draw this.
While it still carries his usual comic book style, there’s also a sort of realism to it that is unlike anything else I’ve seen from him, making me wonder if perhaps he didn’t draw this.
