An uneasy breath in. An uneasy breath out.
A low murmur under sheets.
Darkness.
Silence.
Light.
The sound of bodies stretching, waking, moving. Coming alive.
That's how their mornings went.
That's how they always went.
Stevie always sneaks into your room early. Always whispered to you some stupid greeting before pulling you, who was most likely half sleep, closer to her. And she was always freezing. So you, naturally, pull your blanket up around you for warmth, those winters in New York could be unforgiving, and you fell back asleep like that. Peaceful.
She usually wakes up before you and detaches herself from your back to stare up at the ceiling until you feel like moving out from your oh-so comfortable position. You eventually decide to move, laying on your back you stare up at nothing with her. Maybe sometimes she stays curled around you when she knows your awake to just make sure you're real. And maybe you can't complain when she refuses to move from you and the blankets when your mom calls for you to help with breakfast-but that rarely happens.
After just laying there, quietly with each other, eventually the rest of the house awakes. Justin is usually the first one up. The first thing he does is turn on the news, Stevie has noticed. Then it's Theresa. She makes breakfast for the family. Jerry and Max eventually awake, the smell of food bringing them out of their rooms.
But you and Stevie don't move. You just lay there. Quiet. Warm. Alone. Always, always silent. That's the key thing that you love most.
And so that's how every morning began happening-always and never changing. Stevie didn't sleep over every night, leaving you feeling out of place on some mornings. Because you just fell into this pattern, a nice easy pattern. For once you like the boring simplicity of something and hopes it would never change. At least for a few more weeks before you leave for that art school you worked so hard to get into.
Stevie breaks it one day. She says something that you really don't expect. She turns on her side to face you, reaching out to put her arm around your waist, pulling you back into her. You look at her with frown pulling at your lips just wondering how gutsy she had to be to disrupt their mornings. She just watches you, even if you woke up minutes ago and probably look way less attractive than you want to be right now. But she drags her fingers up and down your bare arm, still taking you in. Your heart swells suddenly and all you want to do it move in closer, fit your body with hers comfortably, and whisper into her skin. But you don't. You lay there, watching her as she watches you.
And as the TV blares some new report on the president while Justin and Max argue loudly over the disaster Harper and your mother are making in the kitchen she opens her mouth. She breaks the silence for the first time in too many mornings to count. But she's so quiet you aren't sure she even said it.
"We should really get our own place."
You look back to her, eyes locking together as your heart pumps faster. "We should. They ruin our mornings."
She smiles and you can't help but smile back.