Title: You'd Know
Warnings: f/f slash, language, sexual innuendoes, use of alcohol, chain smoking.
Author's note: Oh, the things people would know if they were a bit more aware… or awake.
I'm lucky you're such a sound sleeper.
If you weren't… well then, you'd know about the times I stand here while you're sleeping, just watching you. You'd know that some nights when I climb into the upper bunk, instead of sleeping I just listen to your breathing, the rhythm of it. And sometimes I hear you whimper, or moan, and I wonder if it's me in your dream making you do that, but I know I'm not. Or if I were, I know you'd never admit it. You have a boyfriend.
You'd know the little things I do that maybe I shouldn't. You'd know just how many cigarettes I smoke in our room, as opposed to the one or two you see me smoke during the day. You'd know that I stay up so late at night surrounded by cans of coke and bags of tortilla chips that get way too stale way too fast. How I just stare at the computer screen trying to finish some goddamned term paper that I should have started three goddamned weeks ago, but instead find my gaze wondering over to you and resting on your calm, sleeping face.
You'd know you're the first person I ever thought looked like an angel while they were sleeping. You'd know that you never move when you sleep, you stay in the same position you fall asleep in. You'd know that sometimes you talk in your sleep, in little incoherent sentences, like asking for a Pepsi or to see the doctor. You'd know how I wonder what you're dreaming about, how I wish so bad you're dreaming about me, even if it isn't one of those dreams.
You'd know about my girlfriend. Hell, you'd know I'm gay. You'd have heard her knocking on the door at the odd hours of the night and leaving early in the morning so you'd never know she slept over. You might hear her muffled gasps when I touch her in places I really shouldn't when you're in the room. But then… you're such a sound sleeper that it's not as though you'd notice the noise she makes when I brush a finger over each and every nerve ending I can find on her body.
You'd know what she looks like, and then you'd know the reason I'm attracted to her is mainly because well, she looks just like you. You'd notice how her soft black hair mirrors your own, and how your eyes both have that sweet brown eyed girl look to them. You'd know the only reason I want to be with her is because she's just like you.
You'd know she laughs like you, smiles like you, talks like you. You'd know she likes the same books and music you do, and that just like you she doesn't even hang up her wet towels, which I found out the weekend you went to visit your parents. If you didn't sleep so soundly, you might know about that too. But you'd know that the onlyreason I want her in my arms is because sometimes, not always, but sometimes, I can make believe she's you.
You'd know that the nights that I stand over you, I never touch you. I almost do but in the end, I don't I let my fingers linger just above your face, never really touching. Never touching for two reasons. First because I'm scared. I'm scared of waking you and letting you know all my secrets, and second, because well…
You're the one girl I don't get to touch. The one girl I don't get to have.
You'd know that so much heat radiates off of you, that even with my fingers an inch above your cheek, I can feel your warmth. You'd know I try to touch you, that I moved my hand out to caress your sleeping face but drop it to my side just before I do.
You'd know about the one time that I did touch, the time I kissed my fingertips and let them lightly graze your lips. You'd know that I stood there for a few minutes not breathing or moving a muscle because I could not bear the thought of you waking, the thought of your eyes fluttering open and asking me just what the fuck I thought I was doing.
Because for one thing, there's no valid answer to that question.
You'd know about the nights I don't sleep, but I don't listen to you sleep either. You'd know the nights that I lay in the bunk above you just crying softly into my pillow. Because you'd know how sometimes… sometimes, it's just too much. Sometimes it's just too hard this… this wanting.
You'd know about the time your boyfriend came by looking for you and I fed him a pack of lies about you being sick and needing your sleep. Granted you were sleeping, and you were pretty drunk, but you were sober enough to see him. In truth well, I just couldn't bear the thought of having to see you two together for another minute.
It was just one of those nights.
You'd know about the pizza delivered at two in the morning and the bottles of beer empty on my desk and the torn up scraps of paper as I try in vain to find just one fucken word to describe how you make me feel. You'd know how I pace back and forth, delivering silent monologues to your sleeping form. You'd know I give my best theatrical performances well you're asleep varying from professions of love, to hate, to pretending you don't even exist. You'd know I deserve a fucken Emmy.
You'd know that there was one night, one night that I sat in a chair the whole night, until just before sunrise, I sat there just watching you. You'd know I barely had time to scurry into my bed before you got up for your morning run. You'd know that I really just sat there the whole fucken night, chain-smoking cigarettes and trying to deal with this goddamned… this goddamned longing I have for you.
You'd know how perfectly insane you drive me. You'd know that some nights it's more than I can bare and that one night, I even sat with my desk chair swiveled to face you, contemplating suicide, just so I'd be rid of all the pain you put me through. You'd know about the mumbled prayers to God himself. begging him to just either give you to me or stop tormenting me.
There's so many things you'd know if you weren't such a sound sleeper. For starters…
You'd know how much I love you.