Credits to :CHIFFON CAKE for providing us with this amazing love story.
Wayo is a college boy who's secretly in love with his senior Phana since they were in High School.
His love for him led the innocent young man to go after this guy in the same...
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Wayo's POV:
“Tomorrow at 7:00 AM in my room.” P'Pha says as he continues eating.
“What?” My voice almost cracks. I could cry right now. “That’s so early! My dance class starts at 9:00.”
“But I have class at 8:00.” he continues
“I thought you’d already finished that course?”
“It’s a new block.”
Thank god I’m not a medical student.
“And what exactly do you need me to do so early?” I ask, trying not to sound too annoyed, though it's hard when all I want to do is sleep.
I could jump on you and make you take responsibility for messing with my sleep schedule… do you even know that?
“Just organize some papers for me. I need to hand them out to the freshmen.”
Oh great. Paper organizing. My favorite activity.
“Does it have to be tomorrow?” I groan, already knowing the answer.
“Don’t be picky; you’re my servant now, remember?”
I hate him. "Yes, sir."
Well, I guess he's still an idiot with me. And the worst part is, I’m going along with it.
---
The next morning, I somehow manage to wake up at 5:00 AM to get ready for His Royal Highness P’Pha. Why do I even care this much? Oh yeah, because I’m completely obsessed. I take a shower, get dressed, and put on my contact lenses. My reflection in the mirror looks half-decent. Better than yesterday at least. If it weren’t for this ridiculous servant duty, I’d be happily waking up at 8:30. But no, because P’Pha is apparently more important than sleep, I’m sacrificing precious hours of beauty rest.
Maybe I could just take a small nap? I mean, it’s not 7:00 yet.
I collapse back onto my bed, eyes heavy. Damn, I’m sleepy. I stayed up late last night searching for songs for the piano competition. Why am I even doing this to myself? Oh right, the School of Science needs me. Well, they better thank me later.
I close my eyes, just for a minute…
I jolt awake. Oh my god, it’s 7:15! I’m late! Panic shoots through me like lightning as I jump out of bed and run to the third floor. I pound on door number 3, bracing myself for the inevitable wrath of P’Pha. He’s going to kill me. I can already feel the lecture forming in his head.
The door swings open, and there he is. P’Pha.
He’s standing there in a white long-sleeved shirt with the sleeves rolled up, his hair still slightly damp. The messy wet hair look? Are you kidding me? It should be illegal to look that good this early in the morning. Why does he get to look like some kind of model, while I look like I’ve been dragged through a tornado?
