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
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~ Seth ~
He kissed me. He has a boyfriend and he kissed me. Gray fucking kissed me! And now he's passed out in the subway in the seat next to me, leaving me to completely freak out all on my own, about the fact that he fucking kissed me. Like, what the fuck am I supposed to do?!
Do I even do anything? Maybe he won't even remember when he wakes up. That's the best I can hope for. I honestly have no idea how to deal with this. Can I get one of those magazines that has an article on what to do when one of your best friends kisses you while he already has a boyfriend? That would be very helpful right now. I even find myself glancing at the magazines the other occupants of the train are reading, and I slap my own forehead for being so fucking dumb!
Why the hell didn't I push him away? I just let him press his lips to mine and I didn't do a damn thing. I might even say I kissed back, but I wouldn't know. My brain is currently very busy with trying to forget it. Not that that's going well. It's all I can think about.
I let out a groan, catching the attention of the man in front of me. "Is he alright?" he asks, nodding at Gray.
"Yeah," I reply, looking at his flushed cheeks. "Drank a bit too much."
"Oh," the man chuckles. "Happens to the best of us."
Yeah, everybody kisses their best friend while they're not supposed to because they have a boyfriend every once in a while. Happens to the best of us. What were you thinking, Gray?
Before either of us can say anything else, we've come to our stop, and I attempt to wake Gray by calling his name—several times— but he keeps sleeping like I'm not standing right before him, practically yelling in his ear. I guess I'm forced to touch him. Great.
I grab onto his shoulder and give him a light shake, but he still doesn't wake up, so I shake a little harder, and his snore cuts off right in the middle. He shoots up with wide eyes and for a moment, he actually looks kinda sober, but I quickly see the drunken gaze returning to his eyes.
"Oh, are we here?" he slurs sleepily, just as the doors of the subway open with a loud squeak, and I nod and offer my hand to pull him up. He stares at it for a second and I jiggle it around impatiently. I don't want to miss our stop and be forced to sit in the subway for even longer!
He grabs my hand and I quickly let go when he's up, because it only brings forth memories I would rather not remember, and he follows my out onto the platform. In complete silence, he trails behind me, and I have to look over my shoulder from time to time to see if he's even still behind me, but he's always there, only a few feet away, eyes on the ground.
I'd pay a thousand—heck, a million dollars to know what's going through his head. Is he thinking about the kiss we just shared? Or is he just staring at the gravel between his feet, too drunk to realize? I nearly smack into the door of our apartment because I'm so lost in thought. I didn't even notice that we're already back home.
