I stood impatiently in front of Nico's door, the bright white walls blinding as they reflected the morning sun. The dial tone kept ringing and ringing, until finally there was a crackle and a rough, tired groan. I swallowed as the voice spoke, the sound so close to my ear it was as if he was standing right next to me.
"It's too fucking early, Wes," Nico complained, annoyance clouding his tone as I scoffed.
"You said I could come any time," I countered, Nico growling into the receiver. "And it's already 10am." I heard the light thump of footsteps upstairs, stepping backwards to look into the window. As I did so, the curtains which had been drawn were wearily parted, revealing Nico's sleep-tousled black hair and bleary blue eyes looking down. My breath caught as I couldn't help but stare at his naked chest, his lower half blocked off by the bottom of the window. I found myself giving Nico a small wave, face flat, as the boy just huffed.
"Spare key is under the rock next to the Rosemallows," Nico said, and I looked around. In a sea of colourful flowers, I didn't know what Rosemallows were. Nico seemed to have seen my confusion through the window, sighing. "They're the red-orange ones... no, not those ones. Left... left... no, too far left. Next to the Hydrangeas. Yep, there you go." Nico hung up abruptly once I had found the Rosemallows, and I grumbled as I finally found the rock he was talking about, picking out the key from under it. Letting myself into his house, I loitered around the entrance for a few minutes, waiting for Nico.
He didn't come down.
"Nico?" I called, my voice answered by a muffled 'upstairs'. Gritting my teeth, I slowly walked up the familiar stairs, hands gripping my backpack tightly. Knocking on Nico's door and receiving no answer, I popped my head inside. Peering around I couldn't see Nico anywhere, but the door to his bathroom was slightly ajar with the light on, the sound of water running. He's fucking showering? Now? While I'm waiting for him? I laughed incredulously as I glared at the bathroom door. Carefully stepping around his clothes on the floor, I stood beside his desk, grimacing as I plucked off some of the clothes that were covering his chair and sat down on it. The screws screeched with my weight, and I let out a tense sigh as I gently spun in the chair.
Growing bored, I looked at all the things on Nico's desk - some school books that looked untouched, a few sports trophies from many years ago, some more discarded clothes, drained bottles of alcohol and a few empty cartons of smokes. At the back of the desk was a small, dust-covered photo frame, and I carefully plucked it out from the pile.
Inside it was the picture of an older woman, hair only beginning to go grey, and a young boy with short black hair and bright blue eyes. His gapped smile was wide as the older woman hugged him from behind, her wrinkled face soft as she looked down at the boy.
"Huh," I said, wiping the dust off the glass to see the image more clearly, the boy definitely a younger, more innocent Nico Beckett. "So he was actually a pretty cute kid. Too bad he turned into that."
As I said that, the door to the bathroom opened, revealing a freshly showered Nico. I nearly dropped the photo frame as he emerged, hair dripping down his neck, the water droplets dribbling down his pecs to dangle from his pert nipple. There was the faint shadow of stubble across his chin having just woken up, his lip ring slick. My throat was thick as his skin gleamed, his muscles wet and disappearing down into the towel that was wrapped around his waist. Nico noticed me staring, and chuckled deeply. The sound cut through my rapture, and I quickly got up from the chair, striding over to his wardrobe.
"I'll bring the beans downstairs," I said, pulling the large box from the upper shelf of the wardrobe, struggling a little with the height and the size of the box, not wanting to drop everything on the floor. I gasped as I felt something wet press against my back, Nico's hands rising up beside mine to steady the box, helping bring it down. As he did so, his hands never left the box and ended up encircling me from behind. I felt some water drip down the back of my T-shirt, my fingers fumbling.
YOU ARE READING
Sheets | ✓
Romance[BxB] Waking up next to someone after having a little too much to drink was no new, riveting story in this day and age. Waking up next to another boy, when you were also a boy, was a little more interesting, but still nothing to write home about. B...
