Elija Grimes sleeps with everyone he bumps into and even finds himself in bed with his three 'straight' friends. His actions have enormous consequences and it's questionable whether those are good or bad.
(Standalone)
Written: May 2016 - Jan 2017
A/N: This is gay and it's mature so, yes, there will be homosexual fornicating. Have fun reading.
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~ Elija ~
I can't say that I've seen that before.
Above me, a light gray ceiling with small round lights, fitted in in a random pattern. Light flowing in over the top of the curtains, revealing the dirty stain on the far right corner.
Who was it this time? I turn over to find out, my face landing in a bush of dark hair—a strange way to receive an answer to a question. A sigh leaves my lungs as I remember. The dark-skinned girl with the big afro. Rolling back onto my back, I look up at the lights again.
Leave or leave a number? That's always the question. It depends on how good the person was. If they were, I make sure we can get in touch, and have the opportunity to be each other's company again. If they weren't, I take my leave and hope I never see 'em again. Which rarely happens, sadly. I've experienced some, let's say, very awkward encounters.
But this girl... She was quite alright. I would be more than happy to have her again. I can already imagine the surprise on her face. Guys like me usually leave in the middle of the night. I've never understood that concept. If you want to leave, just do it. Don't wait for the other person to fall asleep like a coward.
So I let myself fall back asleep, to not have to wait for her to wake up, and soon enough, I'm being shaken, gentle hands holding onto my upper arm, fingers wrapped around my bicep. I lazily stretch my limbs, pointing my feet all the way to the edge of the bed, my joints popping satisfyingly.
"You're still here," she says, incredulous.
"Hmm... yeah. Hey, d'you wanna do this again sometime?"
"Oh, sure. I uh... I didn't expect you to."
"You're worth it," I say around a yawn.
"Uh, right, then. Let me get you some coffee."
"Why, thank you..."
Shit, I forgot her name. I swear, this happens every time. I can only hope it doesn't bother her. Some people—most people—don't like it when I forget their name. They don't want to meet up with me anymore. They get mad. I get it. I suppose it isn't thoughtful.
"Shay," she says, surprising me with a forgiving smile.
"Cool name."
"I heard."
I give her a lazy grin—I know I most likely said it before, last night—and stand up from her bed, reaching for the ground to gather my clothes, all over the room, carelessly thrown away in haste the night before.
