Sweeter Dreams
When I was a kid, my friends and I dreamed of travelling to places we'd never seen nor heard of, because the island on which we were born and raised was quickly becoming rather lacklustre in our eager young eyes. The cool sea breeze was to be expected, and at this point it's safe to say that we took it for granted, but I didn't quite realise the advantage of it until it was no longer there. The pineapples were somewhat bland, because after you've eaten your weight in them a number of times throughout the course of your life, they're far more ordinary than someone from a more metropolitan neighbourhood might argue. And I think the most underappreciated aspect of my island home would be the sound of waves gently breaking in the shallows on calm nights.
I have learned this the hard way.
Eighteen years old and finally able to escape without my mother's consent, I boarded a train with the intention of visiting my long-distance boyfriend for the weekend. He lives in an urban town: something I'm not too familiar with. We met when he and his friends decided to come to our beach one day, because his parents don't care too much about how far from home he strays, just as long as he returns in due time. I've always envied him for the freedom he was granted, but I wouldn't ever have wished that he was revoked of it; his mostly weekly visits to Destiny Islands would cease entirely if that were the case. Then, not only would I have been a caged bird, I'd have been a lonely one at that.
But now I'm here, at his flat. I'd imagined it for quite a while, and I can't say that it's much different than what I envisioned; it's just the same as every other apartment in Twilight Town, and for the record, real estate websites can give you a pretty good idea. My boyfriend may not know it, but I'm rather fond of research. Said investigation, however, never mentioned that you can't hear waves lapping at the shore as you fall asleep. I should have been able to figure that one out on my own, but it just never occurred to me; all my life it'd been my own personal lullaby, and at some point it became white noise in the background that I was unwittingly dependent on. Regardless of whether or not there was a beach nearby, I may have just assumed that such a sound was common no matter where you resided.
Well, clearly it's not, and this is the basis on which my theory of my insomnia was built.
Roxas is curled tight against me, his arms around my middle and his chest pressed to my back, and I think I can feel his breath against the sleeve of my t-shirt. He's sleeping, and that's another thing that I lovingly envy him for. I wonder if I can wake him and beg him to stay awake with me, if only so that I don't lose myself in this silence. Occasionally I can hear a car driving along the street outside, but my favourite blonde's apartment is rather high up in the building, and so the sound is faint and provides very little solace. I try to concentrate on his breathing, because every so often he gives a little airy snore or mumble, but as much as I love him, I can't honestly say that his sleeping noises can even hold a candle to my island waves.
And now I'm torn, because I want to be with Roxy at every given opportunity, but I also want to go home. It wouldn't be fair to continue to ask him to pack his things and endure a two hour train ride every weekend now that I'm old enough to make the journey myself. He's been doing it without complaint because he's a sweet guy, but how much more can I ask of him before I become a burden? I love him, but I realise now that I also love my home just as much, and although being away from it is a part of growing up, maybe I'm just not as ready for it as I used to think I was. I know Roxas would understand, but I feel awful for taking advantage of his good nature.
I must have made a somewhat distressed sound without meaning to, because Roxas is making a soft hushing noise to either console me or quieten me. I arch my back a little to press against him, and he returns the affection by squeezing me tighter. Before I can even open my mouth to apologise or to voice my concerns or to do whatever it was I was initially going to, I feel him press a small kiss on my shoulder with the corner of his mouth. It makes me smile. I wonder if he's glad I'm here, in his apartment, in his bed – as opposed to him being in my house, in my bed.
... On my island
He fell back asleep, so I guess I won't really know unless I choose to ask him later. Meanwhile, I wonder how I'm supposed to remedy my problem, which at two o'clock in the morning seems pretty important, but later I'll probably realise that it's a lot more trivial in daylight.
An idea comes to mind, and I think I might actually know how to combine the best of both worlds – or towns, I should say. I prefer to be where things are familiar, but continually bringing Roxas to the island will eventually become tedious for him, and since I'm uncomfortable in his urban home of Twilight Town, the only obvious answer would be to bring the island to him. So, with this thought, I gently bring my arm back to nudge the blonde in the ribs with my elbow. He stirs, and I take this to mean that he woke up, so I whisper, "Can you buy sound machines anywhere in this town?"