Leaning against the door frame of my guestroom, everything feels fresh and quiet. The morning light shines softly, filling the room with a golden glow. Entering through the open window, a warm breeze brushes past my still wet hair, smelling of green growing things and mud. I had gotten up early, showered and now found myself back here, drawn to the unmade bed and its sleeping occupant.
Cry sleeps soundly, laying flat on his stomach, both of his arms stuffed under a fluffy white pillow. His hair is a mess. How can sleeping create that many cowlicks? The slanting sunrays have crept onto the bed, highlighting his bare skin. They trace the curve of his spine and slide over relaxed muscles. Soft shadows pool near his shoulder blades, casually touching his sleeping form. I watch the slow rise and fall of his even breathing as I walk into the room. Cry's face is turned away as I sit down on the edge of the bed. Running my fingers over his exposed skin I slowly outline the edges and dips of his back.
He shivers slightly as goose bumps follow my touch. Frowning, he rolls onto his side, pulling the cover up over his shoulder, but instead of turning away from my pestering he angles his body towards me. Mumbling something unintelligible he cuddles down into the bed, still asleep.
I smile, trying not to laugh. I am an early riser no matter what, but Cry is different, he's never really awake before eleven. I know how late he stayed up last night. In an ideal world he would not be up till noon, at the earliest. The thing is, I don't want to let him to sleep; he is just too much fun. Brushing the bangs out of his eyes I run my fingers through his hair. Groggily Cry blinks up at me once and then closes his eyes again, ignoring me. I keep messing with his hair, smoothing down the fly-a-ways till he stretches and he rubs his face into the pillow.
"Sup?" he mumbles, tossing a tired smile in my direction.
"It's morning," I whisper.
"Hmmm….," he yawns, looking up at me with one eye and asks, "What time?"
"Early," I state, laughing quietly. "Want to get up?"
"Fuck no, it's too comfy."
Pulling the blanket up over his head he disappears under the covers.
"Come on Cry, it's a beautiful day, the grass is green, the birds are screaming their heads off, just for you…." But there is no response, so I huff in fake annoyance and stand up, turning away to leave. I don't get far. In a flash of blankets, long limbs and messy hair, I find myself back in bed. Cry is laughing at my surprise, but his advantage doesn't last long as I retaliate by splattering his face with water droplets from my still wet hair. After much wrestling we end up lying next to each other, staring at the ceiling. Cry's giggles die down and I look over at him again, smiling.
"Well, if you don't want to get up I need to." I move to go, but instead of letting me, Cry's hand whips out, slapping down hard on my chest.
"Owww!" I yell, rubbing the spot where his hand landed. Even though it didn't really damage me I shot him a hurt look. With a sly glint in his eye, Cry props himself up on an elbow.
"I'll make pancakes for lunch if you stay."
"Promise?" I ask skeptically, knowing Cry and his wily ways.
"Cross my heart," he smiles, flopping onto the bed, knowing he's won.
"Okay," I sigh, relaxing back into the warm bed. "Since you promised pancakes, I'll stay." Cry lets out a muffled snort as he snuggles into my side.
"Thanks friend," he murmurs.
I throw an arm across his waist to pull him in.
"Yeah," I say curling around him. "Don't worry about it Cry."