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And those who have left some for the last updates, firmly rock my mismatched cotton socks.
The lyrics at the beginning are from the Fall Out Boy song "
Chapter 5
And the record won't stop skipping
And the lies just won't stop slipping
And besides my reputation's on the line
March 27th 2002
She shifts lightly, her nose crinkling and twitching, arms locked safely around my waist, smiling as she rubs her cheek against the soft pillow beneath; she's dreaming. She always dreams when she's lying in my arms, our adolescent bodies entwined, nothing can hurt her, not whilst I'm here to protect her.
I'm always there when she needs me, even in her fitful dreams I'm here to soothe her, to rub her back, to kiss her head and shush her pained sobs. Not that she has many nightmares, not anymore at least, she used to when we were younger, but the more time, the more nights we spent together, the more nights for me to protect her and make her subconscious demons dissipate spent together, the less her sweet dreams turned to bitter nightmares.
She doesn't have to worry; I'm here to look after her. My sleeping angel.
Her right arm dislodges itself from around my waist and moves, of its' own accord, up to her face, the back of her palm carelessly rubbing against her nose before the limb droops limp with fatigue. A contented and dopey smile marring her sleeping features. Soft snores and slow, even breaths the only sounds to be heard in my still 'room, the shafts of moonlight flooding through the improperly closed curtains illuminating our chamber. Her porcelain face perfectly lit, her delicate features made angelic by the reflected light.
I don't bother to stifle the yawn that leaves my mouth, the effort too much for my already weary body, my eyes dart, briefly, to the digital clock on the nightstand just past my sleeping beauty. The LCD display informing me that it's twelve minutes after three in the morning, which means that I've been awake for about three quarters of an hour, awake and watching my companion sleeping softly. Taking in every detail that is offered to me, like the way her nose twitches every ten minutes or how small relaxed sighs leave her mouth without her lips parting. Every detail I'm allowed to memorise, I do. As if I'll never get the opportunity again.
My eyelids are becoming heavy, like there are a hundred tiny weights attached to my lashes, willing them to close. My yawns more frequent, the weariness with each heavy breath setting deeper into my mind. My body craving sleep, I'm forced to close my eyes, hoping the image of my sleeping cherub will remain burned into the backs of my eyelids.
The last coherent thoughts to pass through my young mind as I let my body descend into slumber only that of the angel I share my bed with, my best friend. Spencer Carlin.