Tossing and turning in his bed, Reese's dreams played out a desperate fantasy. A quite repression left forth into the realm of sleep.
A boy stood with a foggy silhouette. His body muscular and attractive. The sark background drew a vast contrast to the white outline. Reese stood, staring at him, walking closer. Pacing down the void hallway, trying to make it to the boy.
A touch away. Reese laid put his hand, an offering to see his softer side. He was weak in this moment, his body left open to the ridicule of rejection. His hand left out, waiting for soemone to grasp it. The other man signalled his head down, looking to his hand, reaching one out.
Their fingers almost emt, but couldn't reach. Reese desperately edged further, the boy in turnoving back. Reese jumped closer. Running down the hall to see the boy. Exhausted sighs of desperation some out of his mouth, interrupting his light snores.
One final leap to attempt to get to the prise at the end. Hitting a glass pane he looks straight through. His desire was unreachable. Reaching his arm back in a fist he flies it into the glass.
His hand hits the cabinet behind his bed. Awoken he looks around his dead room. A silent breeze drifted through the partially opened window. Moonlight flooded in through the unloved curtains. Dewey laid half orr the bed. Malcolm slept silently. Grabbing the old watch, Reese looks at the time. 3:13.
Laying back in his bed he tries to fall asleep. His eyes refuse to shut. Restless he fidgets around, trying his hardest to forget and sleep. No efforts would prove worthy. Tossing and turning he can't stop the thoughts.
Pounding. Banging. Flooding. They move his head, making it ache. He wanted to do something, anything at all.
Rolling down on the floor he balled his fists, performing fast push ups. The form slightly sloppy, he lightly grunted. His knuckles pushed into the ground with each press up. Calluses stress and tear under the movement.
Reese sat down to with his legs pressed to his chest. Rocking slightly he tried to think of something to do. Something to do to fix himself.
Climbing into his bed he tried his hardest to think of anything to go back to ignorance. His mind wondered to comics and TV, his attion low, his spirit even lower. He drifts back to sleep.
YOU ARE READING
Most nights end like this
FanfictionDrunk into a stooper, Reese spends his nights smoking underneath the moonlight, watching over a lake; wishing for nothing more than to be able to be himself. Unliked by his peers, unloved by himself, it's hard being a teen, life is unfair. A blue mu...
