online | dorbyn

TEN

//hi!!! it's me yaz!!!! the person who loves writing angst!!!!! i just changed the warnings in the zero chapter from happy to sad ending ok bye i love you don't kill me bye//

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daniel woke up to the sun hitting his face. the sun was barely awake, just peaking over the horizon. the clouds were a vibrant orange, swirled around with a soft blue. it was quite the sight. he brought his hands up to his eyes, rubbing the sleep away. he flipped on his back with a heavy sigh.

corbyn was just a room away from him, most likely still sleeping. he was tempted to stay in the room with the older boy, but he decided against it and went to his room. he needed to do his pining in peace. he needed to figure out his thoughts, his feelings, without the presence of corbyn besson.

not that he got very far with that process. all he knew is that he likes corbyn. he wants corbyn to be in his life. and that's the part where he felt like throwing up.

although his brother and his friends probably all knew he was at least bisexual, he was scared to admit that. there was no reason to be scared, he knows this. he knows he has support all around him, left and right he has people to make him feel safe.

but there was something nagging at the back of his head, telling him no telling him that he was straight. that corbyn was a platonic soulmate who simply makes him the happiest he's ever felt. that his dad was going to come out of nowhere and tell him that he's going to hell even though his dad is far from homophobic, just a drunk who hates daniel with every fiber in his body.

the nagging voice in the back of his head telling him that he's weird for not liking the thought of sex. telling him that every normal boy his age is getting laid and liking it. and he knows that not every boy likes getting laid, but he believed it. he believes that he has to like sex. but when he thought about it, it was like walking into a brick wall.

he's had these thoughts for a while, especially during the early stages of his mothers illness. he was so cooped up in his room that when his brothers dragged him out to a bar (illegally) to get him laid (also probably illegal but he had just turned 18, so he guesses it wasn't too illegal.) he had a full blown panic attack when he felt the strangers lips roam his body.

the stranger was nice enough to get him some water, she calmed him down and the two just talked for the rest of the night. they never shared names, but she had assured him that he wasn't crazy, that he was going to be okay eventually, and then slipped out of the room with a gentle smile on her lips.

when he told his brothers, they just brushed him off, saying it was probably because their mother was on the the brink of death. but when he told corbyn later that night, he just listened. he never interrupted even if he wanted to because his story had so many gaps in them, but he sat there with his mouth shut and listened to his best friend ramble.

god he felt like scratching his skin off. too tight, too hot in his damn room. he kicked off the covers, feeling the air (that wasn't even hot) hit his skin. he grabbed the water bottle off his nightstand and drank the cold water.

he slouched down, rubbing his eyes tiredly.

he really needs to figure his life out.

after getting out of bed and washing up, and putting on a shirt that was a size too big on him, he left his room and went into the kitchen. the sunlight was seeping through the windows so he didn't bother turning on the lights, he just started up the coffee machine for corbyn and then left the kitchen.