Don't Wake me Up

A soft light was spread over the walls of the room, casting dim shawdows over the place. It was cold, from what his shoulder was telling him. You know that feeling, when you slept with an arm outside the sheets and then you woke up feeling numb because it froze, or almost.

Mike groaned, still walking slightly through the land of slumber with his eyes frowning as he lazilly dragged his arm back underneath the covers. When he felt another body close against his skin, he felt reassured and gave a small smile out. It felt different and much more enjoyable than opening his eyes to find an empty bunk and a vertically placed pillow to give the illusion of company.

He somehow hoped he would be able to sleep a while longer; it was probably only around six in the morning.

His eyes still practically glued on their rim, Mike blindly flew his right fist on the small radio that was screaming for attention. He only managed to kick the poor electronic off the bed table, making it land with a small "thump" on the carpet. The clock, however, was more stubborn than usual. Still bleeping like the end of the world was about to happen in this very hotel room, its sound kept echoing aggressively around their ears.

Mike sighed, angry at himself, and opened his tired eyes to look on the side of the bed where the offensive buzzer had fallen. He extended his arm and pressed shut the alarm, not bothering on replacing it back to its previous standing point.

The bassist rolled over and tried to resume his sleeping, probably already knowing his attempt was useless after having suffered such noise. Mornings never were his favorite part of the day. That's why he preferred skipping them; waking up in the afternoon was much more appealing.

He clumsily pressed his lips on Brian, randomly aiming for his face, but thankfully landing on his forehead.

A grunt rumbled from underneath the bed sheets, to both men's surprise. Empty and talkative stomach, Mike sighed on a note that indicated he wish he could sleep for another year or two.

"Eat," he mumbled. "And then coffee. No wait... coffee, then maybe eat."

Mike opened his eyes slightly more, taking his hand away from Brian's fingers to play with the strands of hair that were misplaced on his lover's head. Dragging some here and there, he probably made them messier than they already was.

Mike smiled warmly, amused at the fact someone would bring him his meal. Now more awake, he looked at Brian dress up as he remembered that he wasn't and ruffled the bed sheets around him a bit tighter at the thought.

"Wait," he said, holding himself on his elbows. "Com'ere."

Mike grabbed the back of his head and dragged him to a kiss, short and simple, but enough to say "I love you more than you know."

When their lips parted, Mike's face stayed at a close distant from Brian's while whispering "One cream, two sugar."

"One cream, two sugar!" Mike yelled back as he heard Brian singing the order down the corridor. He smirked at the thought that it had probably woken up the entire floor, considering the time.

Mike flopped back onto his pillow.

I won't fall back asleep... he thought.

But as soon as the silence had settled back in place, his eyes became heavier and without realizing it, he drifted back through a dream that included coffee cups and towels.

His eyes flikered open almost as if it was automatic. He looked at Brian.

"Crap, I fell asleep again," he said with an apologising smile.

He looked around, his eyes landing on his breakfast.

"Aww, thanks! You're too sweet."

He pecked Brian on the cheek, but as his face drew back, a tear fell off his eye, followed quickly by another.

The bassist leaned into the embrace, almost feeling guilty about it. All this, made him feel guilty, almost sick. The more he had of Brian, the more he wanted him ((Ohnoez, it's the "élimination d'un besoin qui en crée un autre"!)). How the fuck was he going to carry on afterwards? He had tried to convince himself to only think of the present, not seek the events of a too near future, but his mind didn't work that way. His life couldn't end in three days, he'd have to carry on without having Brian by his side, when the only thought of letting him walk off to the coffee shop by himself made him want to put a leash around his neck so he wouldn't go.

Mike closed his eyes, silent, his nose ruffling through Brian's hair as he gain back his composure. He wouldn't let it show off anymore. He'd live for the moment, and then he'd find some way to carry on again when there's no more company by his side.

"It's... It's fine," he mumbled.

A small smile appeared on Mike's lips, but some tears were still swimming down his cheeks.

"It'll teach me from talking to strangers," he said back.

He pressed his lips on Brian's ear, kissing it, as weird as it might have been.

"Don't go," Mike said suddenly. "Don't... just don't."

He didn't know what he was saying anymore. All he knew was that he wanted Brian to stay here, stay close to him. He thought that cocaine addicts must go through just about the same thing. Their doctor would settle a date for them to stop, therefore they would get stone every single day until the date prepared, having boomerang thoughts about quitting right away. Brian was Mike's drug.

"Please..." he added, unsure, but still somehow distressed.

Panic took place, and Mike practically started screaming.

"Well if I had the choice between dying in two days or right away, I think I'd die in two days, thank you."

He didn't know why he was mad. He just was, and his frustration was oriented toward him, not the other way around, even if it was doubted.

"Oh, 'cause you actually think I'll just forget about you? You think I'm gonna walk off and act like nothing happened during this week?" Mike's face flustered read as he kept speaking. "And what about you, huh? Are you going to carry on with your band and stay indifferent?"

((Come online!))

His bottom lip shivered to his discontent, showing the blend of anger and sadness he had bottled up inside.

Once again, his voice raised. "Then if it's so urgent for you to tell me goodbye, then go on; get out. Get out, forget about everything and have fun with your life." He pronounced the words, even if this wasn't even near of what he wanted to say.