For Gotou-chan only~
Nov. 20th, 2012 03:53 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
wontreadthemanual posting in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
dinohouseAs I wake, I realize I've been sleeping.
It's a funny sort of reverse order, the way that that works, and a pleasant half-awareness as I take my time bringing my thoughts into orderliness. The dream I'm waking from was vague, but warm, cosy, and the kind of happy that has to snap your heart open wide so there's room for all of the emotion to fit inside.
Well, of course it would have been. Because I dreamed of Gotou-chan.
I sleepily catalogue the feelings from the whole of my body as I roll onto my back, stretching half-heartedly. My hip's sore, must have slept stiffly on that; my toes are tingly, so maybe the new socks I have are doing a better job of keeping my toes toasty warm. My shoulders, surprisingly, are utterly lovely-feeling. That's definitely new! Surely a beautiful dream wasn't enough to relax and warm me enough that the knots all across my shoulderblades might have untangled themselves?
I roll my right shoulder in a little circle, testing its motion. It slides smoothly, and I'm about to be giddy with happiness that the knots I've been dealing with for three weeks have finally abated somewhat when--
My upper arm has come to rest against something warm. SomeONE warm, as it breathes and shifts against my arm. I can feel breath softly blowing over my skin.
Gotou-chan.
I am abruptly quite awake. Rolling my head to the side, I see the proof as my memory slowly catches up with my situation.
Gotou-chan, confessing to him, drinking, the evening here. Distressed, I went for a run...he was here after...he kissed me. Again.
Oh, Gotou-chan.
My breath is caught in my throat, I can't breathe, I don't much care. He's laying beside me, sleeping or perhaps just waking, beside me.
He's here beside me. It's a struggle to not gather him up in my arms right now and squeeze. But he'd wake up in some state of alarm, I fear.
I think my whole soul is burning as bright as an Olympic torch right now.
Oh, my Gotou-chan.
It's a funny sort of reverse order, the way that that works, and a pleasant half-awareness as I take my time bringing my thoughts into orderliness. The dream I'm waking from was vague, but warm, cosy, and the kind of happy that has to snap your heart open wide so there's room for all of the emotion to fit inside.
Well, of course it would have been. Because I dreamed of Gotou-chan.
I sleepily catalogue the feelings from the whole of my body as I roll onto my back, stretching half-heartedly. My hip's sore, must have slept stiffly on that; my toes are tingly, so maybe the new socks I have are doing a better job of keeping my toes toasty warm. My shoulders, surprisingly, are utterly lovely-feeling. That's definitely new! Surely a beautiful dream wasn't enough to relax and warm me enough that the knots all across my shoulderblades might have untangled themselves?
I roll my right shoulder in a little circle, testing its motion. It slides smoothly, and I'm about to be giddy with happiness that the knots I've been dealing with for three weeks have finally abated somewhat when--
My upper arm has come to rest against something warm. SomeONE warm, as it breathes and shifts against my arm. I can feel breath softly blowing over my skin.
Gotou-chan.
I am abruptly quite awake. Rolling my head to the side, I see the proof as my memory slowly catches up with my situation.
Gotou-chan, confessing to him, drinking, the evening here. Distressed, I went for a run...he was here after...he kissed me. Again.
Oh, Gotou-chan.
My breath is caught in my throat, I can't breathe, I don't much care. He's laying beside me, sleeping or perhaps just waking, beside me.
He's here beside me. It's a struggle to not gather him up in my arms right now and squeeze. But he'd wake up in some state of alarm, I fear.
I think my whole soul is burning as bright as an Olympic torch right now.
Oh, my Gotou-chan.
