Toby couldn’t understand the thick blanket that suffocated the air from his lungs. It was hevy, weighted, as if the sand its self was too much for the fabric. But he was always making sure he was observant enough to stitched up the threads before it could spill out, raining on the two.

It was always like that when the duo-haired boy lay next to him.

The silence was way too loud yet not enough. At the moment, he could just wish for the ocean to be heard. Maybe get ahold of a shell so he could hear the illusion of waves crashing into the shore line. Ruff and storm-like, like how they’d used to play fight when he just wanted an excuse to touch him. Yet peaceful, how Toby’s body would collide with his when he pinned him to the ground to take his stolen pillow away from the taller. But later that night when he was animating his ceiling with thoughts, he’d wish the silence could be even heavier. Maybe then he’d finally have the courage to make moon lower the tide and the sand to become a bit more soft.

Maybe his lips would taste like the sunlight that shined across the rippling waters. Soft, sweet, like how his mother’s voice used to sing the cheesy lullabies while he was in the playing in the bathtub as a toddler.

However, he was still at the brink of a sand storm of silent glances and steamy temptations that swirled around the two in an unseeable dust of doubtful emotions. If only Toby could open his eyes in this dust storm without feeling like he’d hurt himself.

If only he knew they both had the same safety glasses on.