Thinking Nonsense || W.C 0002
{{ Invidia’s installment for the Monthly Writing Challenge! I noticed a lot of self care irl being things done like having a facial or going for a massage or things like that. That’s all well and good but I think there’s something kind of nice about just escaping into one’s mind to self care the day away. So here’s my silly boy doing so. }}
He’s sitting in the window nook at Babylon of his work room, his face toward the sunshine that pours in. A rare lull period in his day where he’s able to just rest and do a whole lot of nothing if he wants to- a time that Invidia relishes more than he would ever say to others. He can read, or draw, or scroll on his phone, or whatever he wants with the pocket of time.
It’s both a shame and a bliss point that he chooses to spend the time daydreaming. Once he had read that escaping into too many daydreams was a sign of something unfortunate but he doesn’t let that bother him in this moment. Instead he sinks his spine against the wall more and lets his mind wander. His thoughts and worries come to slow stillness and for a moment he just stares blankly out the window.
Some tendril of a memory stirs and then catches. The ghost of a sensation he remembers plays with him for a few precious seconds and Invidia blinks rapidly as if it will shake the replay of it back to him. His eyes dart from the window to take in the lounge room around him. There’s people wandering in and out to grab snacks but no one really is watching him too hard. He turns back to the window and relaxes again, freeing his mind up again to see what it brings.
Another faint feeling catches him. The ghost of fingers in his hair and the pleasant pull of them there. His cheeks flush at this but otherwise he doesn’t disturb the thought process, just let’s it go through him. Phantom feelings make their way to the surface, slowly and one by one make his head go a little dizzy as he drifts through them. He remembers touch along his skin, wind blowing through the thinness of his shirt during a fall day, the taste of sakura flavored sweets at the start of the spring, the echo of his voice talking in the museum to marble statues that can’t answer.
His smile widens as he recalls singing with his friends. Then his blush deepens as he feels the ghost of adrenaline go down his chest and to his stomach remembering some too joyous, too big, too intense sensation against his lips. His mind pulls from that, fleshes the memory out a little more and the adrenaline sinks just a little lower.
“Oh!” He says in surprise and then stands up as if he can run away from the sudden thrill of it. His fingers fly to his lips, touching them lightly before he draws his hand away. There’s too much …energy in his body suddenly. He’s got to do something! Eyes look around the room again and he tosses a silent prayer of thanks to the ceiling that no one saw him startle over nothing.
He moves then. Right out the room, down the hall and toward the stairs where he stops short. His hand is on the railing at the top and he stares down them as though he contemplates sprinting down them and right out the door. To or from the feeling, he doesn’ know really. His fingers hold the railing a little harder as he thinks. That blush that possessed his features is still there but he works to dispel it as he turns and then with no real warning hops on the stair railing and pushes so that he’s sliding down it. He’s seated on it and flying down the long curve of it, his voice carrying upwards as he shouts in amusement all the way down.
That cry of joy ends with a loud thud as he slips off the end of the railing and lands on the flooring below. For a second or two it’s too quiet and it seems he might have hurt himself as he lays there in stunned silence. Then he starts laughing to the faces that peer down at him from the banisters.
“You’ve got try it, oh my god!”