Chemical Fusion

Part 11

Finn's POV:

I've been directed to wait until Eric is done with his work to "fraternize" with him, as he says. I do realize I'm acting childish and clingy, but really, it's not my fault we haven't had time to hang out at all for days on end.

After Eric woke from his nap and got off the bed, he picked his shirt up from the ground and was about to put it on when I protested; "Boo, nooo, keep it off, we need some fanservice in here so I don't get bored!"

He stuck his tongue out at me, but he dropped the shirt.

I sit on Eric's bed, legs crossed, head on my hand, watching him sit at his desk typing idly. Every once in a while, I check my phone, or go to the kitchen just to look in the fridge and pretend something new will be in there, but I always return to Eric's room. I'm determined to wait this out, because if I don't, Eric will get sucked back into his cycle of work and ignoring me. Whether the ignoring is intentional or not, it still isn't particularly fun, to say the least.

Finally, it seems like Eric is done, but he just unplugs his laptop and walks over to the bed where I'm still waiting.

"I'm not quite done, but I don't have to sit at my desk for this assignment." He pauses for a moment. "Spread your legs."

"Bold, are we?"

"Shut up."

I comply with his request, and he climbs onto the bed and sits in between my legs, leaning back against my chest with his laptop on his crossed legs. I wrap my arms around his stomach and lean my back against the back of the bed.

Every once in a while, Eric stops typing, sighs, and leans his head back frustratedly, but I don't say anything. I don't want to bother him more than I probably am, and I know I'm already imposing more than I should be while he's supposed to be working. So, I opt for sitting quietly and just holding him while he does whatever he needs to do.

After what seemed like ages, and I'm surprised Eric's laptop didn't die in that time, Eric finally closes his laptop and sets it on the table beside his bed, sighing with relief.

"I'm finally done," he says, raising his arms up and stretching. He turns toward me and wraps his arms around my torso, burying his face in my chest. "No more projects ever, please."

I laugh. "Are you done with the whole project?"

"After all these years, yes. Not literally years, but oh my god it felt like it."

I ruffle his hair. "That's great. I wasn't being distracting, was I? I felt very distracting."

Eric shakes his head, which is still pressed against my chest. "No, you weren't. Actually, I vote for this to happen every time I do homework."

I laugh again. "I'll see what I can do."

"Oh my gosh please do."

We sit next to each other on the bed, and I listen to Eric complain about his project. It turns out he really has a lot on his plate this year. He's trying to take as many advanced classes as possible, apparently to keep his parents from flaying him alive for being a creative writing major and daring to write creatively in his free time. To me, it sounds like his parents are too strict, and honestly, I can definitely see it, because Eric is so strict with himself even when his parents aren't around to tell him what to do. I also learned that Eric and his parents are from Sweden, and Eric can speak fluent Swedish, even though he much prefers English.

At this point, it's pretty late to be staying up and talking, especially when Eric still has some sleep to catch up on. Granted, I only noticed this when he yawned and checked his watch.