In Your Dreams: An Enorace Fanfiction

Chapter 6

What an idiot he was. He almost told Horace! As if there were a more stupid idea........

It just kind of shot up out of his throat, he had no intention on telling him, it just.....happened. And now, Horace was trying to figure it out, but Enoch wasn't having it. He can't find out, he would lose his feelings one way or another and everything would be back to normal, Horace just his friend. Right?

Enoch groaned and held his head in his hands. He couldn't focus on his clay soldiers at the moment after what had happened yesterday. Lumps of clay lay about on his desk, homunculi with only one arm or unfinished bodies stood in front of him.
     
      He stood up with a loud sigh and paced around his dim room. Only a tad bit of light was allowed through the short basement window. He had to tell Horace, didn't he? Sooner or later Horace would figure it out, and its better to tell him. Right? He stopped contemplating and stood at the bottom of the stairs. He could do this. He had to. The dead-riser walked up the stairs, surprisingly not falling considering his shaking legs. His chest ached with anxiety and before he could open the door, he muttered a curse and ran back down to his room. Unfortunately, Miss Peregrine did it for him.

"Lunch, everyone!" Shit.

      The dining room was buzzing with chatter from the older kids and giggles from the younger girls. Enoch strode over to his usual seat at the very end, not noticing Horace at the opposite end next to their headmistress and across from Emma, who was telling some sort of story with a twinkle in her eye. A small bubble of anger filled Enoch's stomach, even though he knew she was just talking to him. Besides, she was much older than him. And everyone was pretty sure Horace was gay (except himself).

His eyes quickly glanced over to Enoch's, and he could feel his heart flutter. Horace looked away as a light pink covered his cheeks and the tips of his ears. It was adorable. Enoch's frown lifted a little and the other kids seemed to notice as they whispered among themselves.

       "Olive, Claire, how is your play coming along?" Miss Peregrines asked once all of the dishes were full of mouth-watering food. Claire lit up and smile brightly.

      "We're almost ready! Can we do it tomorrow?" Olive asked with a sickeningly sweet smile. Enoch groaned and Millard laughed at him, playfully hitting his shoulder. He just glared back at him and shook his head. The girls' plays were utterly terrible and boring, and everyone knew how much Enoch despised sitting on those uncomfortable garden chairs and watching Olive break out giggling every five seconds. Despite this, their headmistress forced him to watch.

      "How wonderful. We all will be looking forward to it, I'm sure," Alma smiled at them and turned her gaze to Enoch who was silently pouting. She raised her eyebrows when he rolled his eyebrows and continued on with his lunch.

      The rest of the children's conversations were drowned out by the silent debate in Enoch's head. One part of him was dreading the next time he would have to talk to Horace. How would he be able to tell him? Their friendship was at risk. It would change everything. Then again, the outcome might not be as bad as he was thinking; he had to tell him. Horace wasn't daft, he wouldn't let it drop. Life in the loop would be horrid if every other encounter between the two would be awkward, or Horace nagging on him to confess. Oh, what was he to do?

      Suddenly, he felt the urge to vomit. Enoch pushed his plate away from him, as the bile rose in his throat. What was Horace doing to him? Enoch leaving in the midst of mealtime wasn't surprising, and only a few turned their heads to watch him walk away.

      The basement didn't seem like a very comforting place to think, so Enoch walked out the front door and allowed his face to be hit with a fierce cloud of cool wind. He instantly felt better, and the knot in his chest he hadn't noticed until now was fading. He took a deep breath of air, his feet leading him towards the forest, crunching and kicking the tufts of autumn leaves that scattered the ground.