Hate (BL)

07

Dylan Skylar

I never thought Grayson would stick around for so long.

At first, I was surprised by how different he seemed after we went out for drinks. Then, I realized he hadn't really changed at all. He still does whatever he wants, no matter how I feel about it.

Like right now. He's still here.

It's the weekend, and he hasn't left my house since Monday. Even when I finally lost my temper and kicked him out Thursday after he brought his stuff over without asking, he was back the next morning like nothing happened.

It's not just frustating, it's unsettling.

How does he know so much? How did he figure out so quickly that I had so many problems. And how did he know every one.

Does he have cameras in my house?

I glance around my room, suddenly suspicious of everything in it.

He's such a creep.

But at the same time, he's like a live-in housekeeper. He cleans. He cooks. He yells at me when I don't eat. When he's not doing that, he's sprawled on the couch, watching random anime.

And every day, we fight.

My mom laughed during our FaceTime call on Friday, saying we sounded ike a married couple. That made me want to gag.

The worst part is, he has a key.

If I kick him out, he can just let himself back in.

He's like a squatter I can't get rid of.

I sigh and roll out of bed, slipping on my worn-out slippers. I can already feel the weight of his next lecture.

He's been feeding me too much.

I don't want to look at the scale. I don't want to know the number.

I already feel it in my body.

Disgusting. Fat. Ugly.

No women would want someone who looks like this.

A sharp knock on my door jolts me out of my spiral.

"Get up from bed, or I'll drag you out."

Grayson's voice filters through the door.

"I'm up," I mumble, shuffling to open it.

He's standing there, arms crossed, hair slightly messy, but his expression annoyingly put-together.

"You stay in bed so long," He scolds. "It's Saturday. Do something."

"You're acting like my mom," I mutter, leaning against the doorframe.

"I wouldn't have to if you, a twenty-five year old, acted like an adult."

"I had a perfectly comfortable life before you came," I snap. "I should've left your ass at the bar."

"I'm making your life better."

"Correction: worse. Next thing I know, you'll be renovating my whole house."

"I should. All your walls are bare. I expected more. Jason said you had nice decorations."

"I like them bare. It's my house. How about you go to your own?"

Grayson doesn't flinch. "Let's go to Target."

"How about you go home?"

"Breakfast is on the table. It's getting cold."

"Stop making me breakfast."

"Some orange slices and a toasted bagel," He continues like I didn't say anything."Since I know you don't like bacon, sausage, toast, and especially not eggs. Cleaning up after you threw up the other day was hell, by the way."

"Why are you doing this?"

"Let's see if you like the bagel."

"Are you listening to me?"

"Do you want water or a smoothie?" He asks, tilting his head. "I got fresh groceries this morning."

I snap. "Can you just listen to me? I don't want all of this. I was fine alone. I was fine when I didn't have breakfast every morning. I was fine when I cleaned my own house. I was fine cooking for myself. And I was sure as hell fine when you weren't in my fucking life. What is all of this? This is so fucking confusing!"

Grayson stops at the bottom of the stairs, his back to me.

"Guilt."

His voice is quieter now, almost fragile.

"Well, I don't care," I spit out. "Go home and do whatever the fuck you were doing before all of this."

Grayson turns around slowly, his expression softer but still determined.

"Well, I care." He says firmly. "I regret being such a dick to you."

He steps closer, his gaze locked on mine.

"Let me make it up to you."

"Well, practically moving into my house isn't helping," I snap.

He lets out a small sigh, looking almost sheepish.

"Sorry."
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Uploaded 10/29/24
Edited 01/18/25