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143 words, not so clever title.
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hardtime100 sorta drabble, written for Challenge #104: Heard It Through the Grapevine.
Words
Whispered words in the dark, muffled.
No…please…
He shifts against the mattress and tries to block them out. Like every other night. They are meant for him, only not.
There’s always that tiny gasp, like a swallowed sob. The sound bleeds through the top bunk and into his skin below. He can almost taste the devastation, the acidic tang of betrayal.
I thought…I thought it was real…
Eventually the words will die off into nothing. These are not the screaming dreams of before, ending with Toby jerked into consciousness, soaked to the bone. He wonders if Toby ever did wake whether he’d try to touch him (try, always try, always knowing there’s never any true hope of success), or roll over and let him be.
Never again. One last thin sigh, and then silence.
Toby never says his name, but Chris still waits.
hardtime100 sorta drabble, written for Challenge #104: Heard It Through the Grapevine.Words
Whispered words in the dark, muffled.
No…please…
He shifts against the mattress and tries to block them out. Like every other night. They are meant for him, only not.
There’s always that tiny gasp, like a swallowed sob. The sound bleeds through the top bunk and into his skin below. He can almost taste the devastation, the acidic tang of betrayal.
I thought…I thought it was real…
Eventually the words will die off into nothing. These are not the screaming dreams of before, ending with Toby jerked into consciousness, soaked to the bone. He wonders if Toby ever did wake whether he’d try to touch him (try, always try, always knowing there’s never any true hope of success), or roll over and let him be.
Never again. One last thin sigh, and then silence.
Toby never says his name, but Chris still waits.
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