All it took was a dream to become aware that I was still sleeping. In that dream you said in a text message you're already home, drunk and a little naughty. Time says its 4 am. I told you to go into my quarters, but then, how is it possible when I found myself in a room with low ceiling, which is not mine?
So I woke up to find the sun peeking between the curtains. And found not a single text message coming from you. Natural instincts, of course, was to look for my significant half.
Had your phone says its unavailable, you would drive me to the highest state of alarm. Not knowing your whereabouts could cause a little jolt of insanity. But the call got through so a missed call would suffice. I left you to sleep, and prayed that a hangover would not kill your perkiness.
Then I remember how eight years ago, such wordlessness would have been a cause to pick up a fight. (and so I had to even use the landline and send the ex-one a missed call to assure I really went home) Five years before this age, it would have made a strong case to launch a rebellion. (and a reason not to text and ignore the ex-two the entire day)
Demons in me howl a thousand and one reasons for you not to text. But then, after exposing us when the spirit of alcohol had lowered your inhibition, I guess it is safe to think that you got so drunk and dropped like a log the moment you entered your room.
Truth is, I feel guilty that I overslept when I should be waiting. I should have never allowed complacency to run its course when you told me your straight friends will drop you home.
Hope you enjoyed the reunion, and had a great time bonding with the quinthe. Should you not hear from me this afternoon, may this entry serve as a note that everything's cool. I might have returned to sleep after spending the entire morning thinking how to spend my day-off.
But then again, knowing how I could be very stubborn at times. Chances are I wouldn't rest until I hear your voice and be assured that you're truly home and resting.
