Alcohol is a funny thing↠ dylmas

5

A huge headache woke Dylan up. He was sure someone was hammering his head just for fun or something like that, and to make matters worse, the sun was shining brightly outside, its sunrays hitting him straight in the face through the windows - right, he forgot to close the curtains.

Wait, why did I forget to close them?, he thought, finding it strange that something he was used to do every night before going to bed, wasn't done now.

He closed his eyes and groaned because of the pounding headache he was having. With his eyes still closed, he tried to grab the covers to put them over his entire body like an armour that protected him from the horrible and shiny sun; but just when his hands found them, they shifted along the mattress, and it wasn't him the one who moved. He opened his eyes and frowned, wondering what the hell was going on.

When he rolled over to his side, he saw a naked back, milky soft skin with some moles scattered all over the place. His eyes followed the boy's neck until he came across a head of dirty blonde hair - messy and familiar to him. So it suddenly hit him, and he wasn't so sure of the way he should react. Should he panic? Maybe. Should he wake Thomas up and pretend nothing happened, asking him to leave or something? No, probably he remembered every single thing, besides, it would be kind of stupid to ask him to leave when all Dylan wanted to do was to enjoy the moment.

He moved a little more and looked at Thomas' back, running his fingers so slightly through the blonde's hair so he wouldn't wake him up and ruin the moment. It was exactly what he wanted: Thomas sleeping peacefully on his bed, waking up by his side and the bedroom so quiet - his headache was almost forgotten by the time he realized he felt so content.

Did we have sex?, he asked himself and furrowed his eyebrows. Then, the panic emerged again and he stopped playing with Thomas' hair only to lay on his back and fix his eyes on the ceiling.

What if Thomas didn't want to sleep with him? What if he was drunk as well? Alcohol makes you do crazy stuff like dancing naked, saying things you don't really mean or sleeping with your best friend, so Dylan wouldn't be surprised if Thomas told him it was a mistake. Also, he wouldn't be so surprised if he had to fake it didn't mean a thing to him, so both could agree to pretend nothing happened, even if a lot happened, all for their friendship's sake.

The worst of it all was that Dylan couldn't remember much. All the memories were hazy and it was like watching images through a fogged window, which he couldn't seem to clean, but he was sure they did something. Maybe they'd kissed or... or maybe they'd had sex - just from trying to remember his headache came back and got worse. So he sat at the edge of the bed for a while, decided to put on a pair of clean boxers and once he closed the curtains, much to his relief, he stood next to the window and stared at Thomas from there.

The British boy hadn't moved, not even a bit, and Dylan's brain couldn't stop being so intrigued. Well, he wanted to be optimistic about the situation, although all he could think of was the worst case-scenario like... Thomas rejecting him. No, that wasn't the worst. Thomas telling him he is disgusting or... anything similar just because they slept together and maybe Thomas isn't gay or bisexual... or maybe he doesn't even see Dylan as an exception, although Dylan saw him as one of the greatest exceptions he'd ever made without even choosing to make it.

No, he's not like that, he reminded himself. He's not going to do that.

He turned around, and just when he was about to get out of the bedroom,  the mattress crunched and Thomas' raspy voice made Dylan stop dead in his tracks at the frame of the door. "Dyl?"

Dylan turned around and faced Thomas, the latter yawning and sitting on the bed. The sheets covered half of his body - Dylan wondered if he was fully naked - leaving his torso in plain view.