Body language
I made a drabble for this because what the hell Print.
Last Night of Childhood
Moonlight washes over the velvet mountains, caressing the scenery, teasing the flora with a mere muted reflection of the sun rays it so craves at this time of year. The bells of the shaggy, ginger cattle have already died out hours ago, with only an occasional ring still carrying along the midge-infested Highlands, but most inhabitants of Feldcroft can no longer hear them from far beyond their dreamscapes.
Sebastian awakes from the pale, azure light shining through the hole in the ceiling. He hasn't learned the appropriate spell to fix it yet, so the small shed he and Ominis escaped to for tonight is only habitable on clear, lukewarm summer nights like these. If Sebastian squints his eyes at the patch of the sky above him, he can just barely make out the tiny heavenly beads of stars that aren’t outrivalled by the moon.
With the heat of the day evaporating through the humble skylight, it's a little bit too cool here on the ground level. Their only source of comfort is the thin conjured mattress between them and the floorboards, along with the sheet they stole off of Anne’s bed for covers.
Understandably so, Sebastian shivers. Ominis challenged him to a wrestling match before bed time, so off flew their sleep shirts in the kerfuffle, tossed somewhere into a corner to collect the dust they raised. Sebastian glances at his best friend once, twice, but he can’t help his gaze lingering for longer the third time. Looking at him now, also curled up and whimpering from the cold, Sebastian would laugh if he wasn't the one who made him strip in comradery with himself.
“Ominis? You awake?” he whispers.
Ominis doesn’t reply, just breathes in chattering inhales and exhales. Sebastian can see almost each one of his vertebrae, all lined up neatly along his spine. He nearly reaches out to tap on them, to recount, but then Ominis trembles. Goosebumps have sprung to his skin, raising the translucent fuzz coating his shoulders.
Sebastian pats around for the sheet. Blast it. Ominis is far too widely spread out on it.
He looks back at the sky again, sighing in defeat. Ominis wouldn’t mind it, would he? If he rolled over and threw an arm around him? If anything, he’d thank him for such a chivalrous act. And Sebastian is sort of cold as well, he could say they both needed some warmth from one another should Ominis wonder.
After testing the temperature of his hand on his own belly (not hot but it will do), slowly, he brushes it against Ominis’ ribs. When Ominis doesn’t flinch or react, Sebastian presses his palm flush with his waist and scoots forward.
“You really aren’t awake?” he asks again. No answer this time either, so he slips his hand to Ominis’ sternum to press him closer.
Once Sebastian is snug against him, heat spreads from between them, all the way to Sebastian’s limbs, from top to bottom, from his fingertips to his toes. Eventually, the chill of the shed becomes a mere afterthought – only Ominis’ feet, shuffling restlessly before settling on Sebastian’s knees, are what’s left of it.
A lonely sheep bleats somewhere in the distance. More join it, until there's a chorus of cries. Then, a bell rings, its echoes hollow.
One beady-eyed tawny owl lands on the thatch roof of the shed, perching over the edge of the skylight to peek in. Tilting its head to the side, with utmost curiosity, it inspects the view of the two wizard boys huddled together under the moonlight.
But Sebastian doesn’t know anyone is watching. He’s already asleep, dreaming of cauldron cakes, of Anne’s sun-spotted scowl and Ominis’ high-pitched giggles, blissfully unaware of the faint wafts of smoke settling over the hamlet.