So Tell Me How It Should Be [Chris x Ricky Fanfic]

Chapter 10

A/N

Guys. I'm. So. Fokin. Sorry. I might be sick as hell BUT HERE'S AN UPDATE after 99 decades <3 <3 ilysmxooxoaooxasrewrrasdf

--

Moments later and a lot have happened. Ricky got a comforting talk with his new friend, Jessica, and even got her number which was written in a piece of paper. Chris and his friends got drunk as hell, and they ended up passing out in the bar.

They had to go home, except all of them were drunk except for Ricky, so he had to drive.  He took the keys out of Chris’s pocket.

“I’m going to borrow this for a moment.” Ricky asked for permission even though he knew Chris wasn’t going to respond.

Ricky carried them to the car one by one. He felt his back ache as he carried each one of them to the car.

“I could get muscles with this.” He thought.

Ricky drove out of the place and he was on his way home. The five was loud and reeked of alcohol and that would be a big bother to the others, but Ricky didn’t seem to mind at all. After all, they’re his distraction from his past.

They’d finally reached home. Ricky stopped the engines and noticed his band mates were asleep.

‘Fucking had to carry them again?’ he told himself with a face that was slightly annoyed.

He managed to carry each and every one of them to the living room and decided to take a break. He can feel his arms were sort of falling off from his body. He drank a few glasses of water and started carrying every one of them to their rooms.

*

Ricky had finally finished carrying Devin, Josh, Brandon and Ryan to their bedrooms, leaving Chris at the sofa.

Ricky’s back was aching sore though he still managed to carry Chris as he groaned in pain.

He stepped on each step on the stairs, bearing the weight that Chris had, and one time he had almost slipped, but of course he was cautious enough to avoid it.

At last, they finally reached their room. Ricky swung the door open and put Chris in the bed and sighed.

Ricky went to the closet and opened it. He held out his hand to reach for the same futon Chris had given his before.

He was about to pull the futon out of the closet, but something, or rather, someone, pulled him away.

“Sleep with me,” Chris hoarse voice had shot Ricky’s eardrum like a bullet. He felt his hair at the back of his neck stand, repeatedly saying shit in his mind.

Shit about to go down.