Holding On

“I think I was a monster in a past life,” Charlie says, apropos of nothing.

“And I was the queen of England,” Drew answers dryly. “Want to see my crown? I’ve got it around here somewhere, it’s real pretty.”

They’re lying on Drew’s bed, looking up at the grey-brown stains on the ceiling as a forgettable tune plays on the radio. It’s too hot to be outside right now—too hot to do anything, really, other than lie here in their underwear with the fan blowing stale air on their sweaty bodies. Drew misses the wintertime, when they could curl close to each other without it being unbearable.

“Ha ha,” Charlie says. “I’m serious.”

“How d’you know I’m not serious? I’d look great next to that gold piano.”

“I keep having these weird dreams,” Charlie continues, pointedly ignoring Drew. Fair enough. “Like I’m something else. Someone else. Sometimes I wake up and my limbs feel too long and I can taste blood on my teeth.”

“Uncle Garrett would say that’s because you don’t floss,” Drew remarks.

Charlie takes a swipe at them for that. Drew dodges him easily, but sees the shadows lingering in Charlie’s eyes, the way he won’t quite meet their gaze. That’s not good. They take stock and decide the stifling heat is worth braving for this, rolling on top of Charlie and pinning his wrists playfully to the mattress, sparing a brief glance at Charlie’s long, elegant fingers before they make eye contact.

“Listen to me. Everyone has strange dreams. It’s just your subconscious being weird,” Drew says, making their voice as reassuring as they can. “Human brains do that. It’s normal, not some sign of being some kind of monster. Don’t start torturing yourself, it doesn’t help anyone.”

Charlie sighs, his body finally relaxing under the weight of Drew’s. “I know. Sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Drew says. “I had a dream last night that freaked me out too.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. I dreamt I was dating a complete idiot. Worst part is, I woke up and it was real.”

“You dork,” Charlie says, letting out a laugh.

“Your dork.” Drew leans in obligingly when Charlie’s fingers draw them close.

The kiss is too short for their liking but tasting that smile is worth everything, especially when they get to see the contentment on Charlie’s face when they pull back. Then Charlie’s kissing them again, oblivious to the rough scales appearing on his fingertips.

Drew would do anything for his beautiful face and its gap-toothed smile, their lips tingling from the kisses, and hopes to god that the spell will hold for just a little longer.

© 2021 Ryan Breadinc

About the Author

Ryan Breadinc is an up-and-coming writer from Bunbury, Western Australia. A self-proclaimed mess of a human being, he’s found his passion in writing the weirdest shit he can come up with at the time, and then bullying his friends into reading it. (Just kidding.)

He found his passion for books in early childhood, reading horror stories and cheesy supernatural drivel when he was much too young for it. It’s stayed with him, and now he makes his own horror stories and cheesy supernatural drivel. You can find him rambling about half-baked ideas for his next story on social media at @breadincbooks, or in his office with a few birds yelling at him for attention as he tries desperately to get some work done.

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A Bridge Between

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Gastronomie Morte