~ Sweet Dreams ~
Dozens of papers litter the small coffee table and the floor; countless equations and formulae lay scattered across the many pages, illuminated dimly by florescent light. A hand slips from the table to the wood panel floor, dragging with it another crumpled page. The arm holding the hand twitches, and its owner is jerked from his pitiful, exhausted slumber. He lifts his head from the table, runs a hand through his long, curly hair.
A few pages cling to his head, held by the curious static force that can only be produced when one's work surface is used as a makeshift pillow. The boy's other hand places the pencil it held gently on the table before joining its brother in gathering the scattered papers. His lips utter sleepy nothings while his legs carry him off to bed.
Lazy, tired eyes can't be bothered to look at where they are being led, but there is no reason to worry — the feet know their way well, and soon the hands are turning the knob of a door. The boy shakes his head, clearing himself of his daze. It takes a moment for his eyes to adjust to the darkness of the new room. He looks about himself and sees little more than dark blurs, his eyes settling at last on a fuzzy corner at the other end of the room.
For the briefest of moments, complex equations and fantastic shapes once more flash across his mind, but they are interrupted by a shadowy figure stirring in the corner where his eyes lay. Turning, shutting the door soundlessly behind him, he moves as if to take a step but freezes when a soft murmur drifts over him. "What took you so long?"
He smiles, and speaks, his voice barely a whisper. "Just finishing up a bit of work." The darkness is thinning, and he can see blankets tossed to the side as he makes his way over to the bed. There is a pleasant chill about the room; cool air breezes past his face. The ceiling fan whirs quietly overhead. The blankets are warm. The boy lays his arm across the resting figure and finds that it is also warm. There is a soft grunt, a rustling under the covers, and the boy finds himself staring into the dark, chocolate brown eyes of a beautiful girl.
The moon shines through an open window, illuminating her pale skin and casting about her an unearthly glow. Silky strands of short, straight black hair fall over her face, casting shadows against the ethereal moonlight. Gently the boy brushes her hair, stroking her cheek with his fingertips. The girl shivers, though not from the cold. He runs his hand through her smooth tresses, letting it rest, cradling the back of her head. The girl edges closer, and from her lips escapes a soft moan. She steals a kiss from the sleepy boy, who steals one back. His other arm slides under the girl, squeezing her shoulder, caressing her soft curves, the small of her back, settling finally around her waist.
Lips still tingling, the girl wraps her arms around likewise, relishing the warmth, the softness of his skin. She lays her head in the crook of his neck, and he buries his face in her soft, silky hair. The two of them lay there for the longest time, comforted by each other's warmth, the only sounds, each other's breathing. Each can feel the steady rise and fall of the other's chest against his or her own, the rhythmic beating of their hearts. And they lay there, silently, together, until sleep claims them.
July the 29th, 2009: I rewrote this entirely, shifting from past-tense to present-tense and cleaning a few things up. Hope you enjoyed my little piece. It is one of my favorites (and one of the few stories I have written and can look back at without gawking and thinking 'How the heck did that ever hit the page?') Please review! Constructive criticism is more than welcome, along with, though to a lesser extent, senseless doting and mindless flames.