Warning: RWB spoilers ahead.
Some say the best love stories often take time.
Emery Chernychevsky has had a crush on Cameron Brooks since he can remember. Watching him date different girls all throughout high school was nothing if not pure torture...
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Week 8: The Rabbit Hole
The ocean wears the sun at its brightest.
There's a never ceasing memory of Cameron's grandmother whispering that in his ear whenever he would refuse to wake up in the morning as a kid. He never really understood what it meant, let alone be inspired by it enough to start his day. To be fair, he was seven, and unlike now, he had that as an excuse.
Right now, there really wasn't any reason for Cameron to not get up except for the second set of limbs tangled with his own.
A kiss of rays made it through the gap of the curtains, causing the mess he and Emery made in his room to show itself like a damn cornucopia. Tissues and clothes they wore the night before hid everywhere, popping up every time Cameron blinked and glanced at a corner of the room. It was hard to look at, especially knowing it'd be a pain to clean them up.
At the foot of the mirror, there was a significant pile of empty torn packets of condoms, each one of them holding a unique and horrifyingly permanent memory of how he and Emery desecrated the room lent to him by Blake beyond saving. Cameron tried not to think about it, or the fact that his first instinct was to cover his eyes with his arm and laugh quietly instead of being embarrassed.
His laughter died as he groaned, unwilling to open his eyes just yet and relying on his strength alone to pull the smaller body against him closer. He'd been dreaming the entire night.That rarely happens, and even though he doesn't remember half of what the dream was, he knew it was nice.
What other reason would he have for waking up smiling like an idiot?
Last night was something straight out of a book, and he's not used to describing things like that. But the kind of guy Cameron is, he doesn't really know how else he could. How else would you describe feeling like the luckiest guy in the world having done what he did with a person who couldn't be more perfect for it?
Even if that person was killing his arm.
He pushed himself to wake up anyway, staring down to see the culprit responsible for all of it. Cameron knew he was more than capable of wasting his time on dumb things, but even his favorite pastimes are no match to trying to memorize the placement of freckles on Emery's face and the faces he makes when he's dreaming.
Emery's left arm was draped over his chest while the other was tucked underneath his own head, mushed against his face. His face was buried in the crook of Cameron's neck, causing his hair to tickle the blond's jaw. Cameron held the arm on top of him with his free hand, the other still stuck under Emery's neck. His eyes traveled south, and he shook his head with quiet laughter when he saw that the entire blanket was wrapped around Emery's smaller body, more than enough to keep him warm until Fimbulwinter. Meanwhile, Cameron's own ass was exposed, like a popsicle, but he didn't care.
He looked around before deciding to pull Emery closer, tugging a bit of the blanket over himself instead of pulling out his already numb arm. If he had to lose any of his extremities, this should be a pretty great story to go for.
