Weak Hero Short Stories

The Sleepover Part Five

Gray's POV:

Teddy was warm, and his hands were surprisingly soft for someone who fought a lot. Callouses were a given, though few and far between. He'd opened his phone to check the time again, then turned down the brightness as low as it would go. 

We waited in the comfortable silence of the room, for each of us to regain our composure. For any fearful dreams or wayward thoughts to be wiped from our minds like wiping a sleeve along a white board. Quick. Easy.

Teddy's phone showed the time 4:12. His wallpaper was darkly colored and messy enough of an image that I couldn't tell what was going on and what it was supposed to be. After he'd calmed down a bit, he sat up straighter beside me, taking his head off of my shoulder. As if it were an instinctive response; break down, recover. For a moment I felt reluctant to let him go, for a moment I wanted to keep him close and hold him tight. Just for a moment. 

We sat in the silence for a while, each staying close to the other for comfort. Never had I ever thought that if this situation happened, that me and Teddy would be so close. And the idea of it feeling natural? A couple months ago, I never would've believed it. The idea that he'd ever hold my hand after crying is never one that crossed my mind.

"Gray?" He whispered, probably trying to keep from waking anyone up. It would be a semi-awkward thing to have to explain to the other guys.

"Yes?" My answer was as soft and quiet as his.

Teddy paused, as his body tensed and his eyes played a movie I'd never watch nor get to see. One only he'd ever know. He held my hand a little tighter. 

"If I didn't wake you up," He hesitated, "Do you mind telling me what did?"

My hand drifted up to his face, brushing away the long parts of his hair that was covering his eyes. Tucking it behind his ear, heading down and following the curve of his jaw with my fingertips till I reached his chin. I angled it downward to get him to look at me, really look at me.

His blue eyes were so pretty, and I'd never noticed till they were full of sadness and fear. They met my gaze with complete and utter defeat, he looked tired, really tired. Almost like he was still pushing back tears. You can only cover the cracks in a fish tank with scotch tape so many times before the water begins to push through the tape and allow droplets to seep through.

"Hey." I said, smiling best I could. Perhaps it looked fake, maybe he could tell. But whether or not my smile is genuine doesn't really matter right now.

He returned the smile, and if I look like this, as if I'm really really trying hard to fake it, then I feel bad for lying. My heart throbs as its stabbed with the memory of Stephen, his perfect and free smiles and his fake ones. Used to hide his emotions, a mask with joyous features. It hurt to even think that I might be doing that, to Teddy or to anyone else in the gang. I don't want to worry them that way either.

My hand sunk down closer to his face, cupping it gently as I brushed it with my thumb. Rubbing right under his eyes and a bit down his cheek. He leaned into the touch, raising his free hand and placing it on top of mine. A comfortable closure. Shared warmth.

"Do you want to get breakfast?" I asked, plan in mind.

He laughed, small and empty, "At four in the morning?"

"There's a gas station not far from here." 

Teddy looked at me for a moment more, as if he was studying my features through the dark haze of the room. His eyes fluttered from my eyes to my hand to our intertwined fingers back to my eyes. 

"So we don't wake anyone up?" I added, hoping to persuade him a bit more to come get breakfast with me.

He paused once more, his eyes staying fixed on mine.