"Hnng..." Was the first- and quite intellectual, as you can clearly see -word out of Will's motuh as he woke up. He rubbed his temples.
Sunlight filtered in through the window, in a way that would normally make him grin, get up, and have a nice day but nope. Today it just made me want to die a little more.
He fumbled with the Advil on the nightstand, wondering when the hell that got there. After a few minutes of struggling there a creak in the floorboards, he flinched on instinct.
"Need help?" Grumbled Silas, still in his skull pajamas- He was never up this early, what the hell?
"Uh, yeah. Thanks man." Will handed him the bottle and kinda stared at him for a minute. "What happened last night?"
"Eh, not much I had like one drink and you managed to get yourself shit faced. I dragged you back here. Oh and you're an awful flirt, no wonder you have no girlfriend." He snickered at the last bit. Will tried to remember what he meant by that but couldn't for the life of him.
He handed me back the Advil and turned to leave but Will let out a small noise of protest, he didnt know what he was expecting from him, but he turned around.
"What?" He asked, eyes not really on Will- off in the distance again.
Will didn't know know if it was the hangover, or the chronic touch starvation but he whispered out. "St-stay? Please."
To the blande boy's surprise, he sat down on the edge of the bed. "Sure, Will, sure."
Will wanted him closer, he wanted hugs and cuddles and kisses for some reason- he didn't even like him like that -but he knew better than to ask. He stayed where he was.
"Are you...alright?" He asked softly. This was the most gentle Will'd ever seen him, it made him wonder who got this treatment on the regular, or if there even was anyone.
"Hangovers are a bitch with a burrito up her ass, but other than that, yeah." Wilbur joked, he smiled. They had a nice little rythym going. He decided he liked this.
Then he stood up. Shit, moment ruined.
"I'm gonna go for a smoke, see ya." He walked out. Will's mind was rushing, but for some reason the only thing he could focus on was how much he hated the smell of cigarettes. He smoked the menthol ones, even worse.
Then I fell back asleep.
YOU ARE READING
Summer Nights
RomanceSilas never thought he was one for love. In fact, he never thought he was one for any of this. He was 19 and volunteering at a summer camp for kids like him- nuerodivergents. The one problem is- he hates people (other than hookups) and hates kids ev...
