the roommate → brad simpson | ✓

twenty nine - "no shit sherlock"

Almost three weeks had passed by since the party.

Brad hasn't spoken a word to me, he hasn't even looked at me, and I gave up trying after a few days. I understood how he felt, and I realised I should give him time to think and figure out how he's feeling, as should I.

I was confused at myself. Why was I so bothered that Brad could've slept with someone? I was every time I walked in on him with a girl. It just didn't make sense to me, because I'm certain I don't like him.

I sigh and finish up my last essay of the night. Brad had gone out to another party, a common reoccurrence over the past week since he found any excuse to stay out of the apartment. He sometimes didn't come home, and I could only assume he was with a girl or staying at his friends. For some reason, I always hoped the latter.

It was four in the morning when Brad came stumbling into the dorm. Even though we weren't talking, he tried his best not to wake me up but he failed. I turn over on my bed to see him getting his shoes off. My eyes linger on his hands that looked cut and bloody. Did he get in a fight?

He had noticed that I had turned around, I knew he had because he opened his mouth to say something but stopped himself before I turn back around, closing my eyes.

He gets changed in the bathroom, getting a shower as well, and when he's done he saunters over to my bed, sitting on the edge and running his hands through my hair soothingly.

"You're so beautiful," he whispers, and I can smell the alcohol from where I'm stood. "I truly don't deserve someone like you in my life. I don't. You're so beautiful and innocent and you're sassy and impatient but I like that about you. You won't take my shit."

He lets out a sigh, pressing his lips to my cheek softly before moving away. His hand continues to run through my hair as he sits next to me.

"I'm gonna be a better person for you. I will. Let me figure things out first, like how I'm feeling and stuff. But I'll change for you. Maybe then you'll want me."

I didn't know I felt like crying until a tear slips out and my hand moves up to wipe it away but Brad does it first with his thumb.

He stands up to leave and go to his bed but I don't want him to leave. I grab his hand and open my eyes, silently telling him to lay with me.

"Okay."

He didn't take a split second to think, he climbs under the sheets and rests his head on my pillow, pulling me close so that his arms are around my waist and my head is resting on his chest. My fingers move from his face to his hair and I watch as his eyes bore into mine, sometimes flickering to my lips but he doesn't do anything.

"Go to sleep. I shouldn't have woken you up."

♡

I didn't want to move when I had woken up. I was so comfortable against Brad's chest that the thought of moving appalled me. Brad hugs me tighter as he stirs away, one hand on the small of my back and the other in my hair.

He smiles down at me as his eyes open and he presses a small kiss to my forehead. I assume he remembered last night.

"Good morning," he says, resting his forehead against mine, our noses rubbing together. My hand is on his cheek, my thumb slowly tracing over it as I move it backwards and forwards.

"How are you feeling?" I ask, referring to the hangover he's probably going to have from all his drinking last night.

"I'm feeling a lot better now," a small smile is on his lips. "A lot, lot better. I missed your voice."

I smile at the fact he's complimenting me like it's second nature and the way he's holding me tightly as though if he lets go, he'll lose me forever. It was such a strange moment for us to be so close after almost three weeks of not talking.

"I missed yours too," I whisper back nervously, moving my hand from his cheek and looking over him to look at the time. It was almost twelve in the afternoon.

"Have you got classes soon?" Brad asks, his eyes never leaving my face as he watches me. I shake my head. My first class wasn't until one in the afternoon today. "Great. Stay and cuddle with me."

"I have to get ready for class, Bradley," I frown at him but he pulls me close, my leg on top of him as he lays on his back, one arm around my shoulder, his hand running through my hair, and his other hand playing with my fingers.

"You can stay for a bit longer."

My eyes flicker to his hand, a few small cuts on his knuckles, and I move my hand out of his grasp and take his hand instead.

"What happened?" I ask, a frown on my face and he lets out a small sigh.

"I got into a fight."

"No shit Sherlock. Anyone could've figured that out," I roll my eyes at him as my fingers trace over the cuts lightly. "Why'd you get into a fight?"

"If I tell you, you're gonna have to promise not to get mad at me," he says and I nod slowly. "Promise?"

"I promise."

"Pinky swear on it," he wiggles his pinky and I loop mine with his. "Okay, well I was at the party last night and Thomas was there. He was more drunk than I was and he was making out with other girls because him and Britt broke up. I just stayed out of his way because I was already in a bad mood."

I sit up on my bed so I can look at his face. I cross my legs and face him as he leans against the headboard. He was playing with my hand again, watching it as he spoke. I could tell he was nervous.

"But he found me outside with some of my mates—I wasn't smoking, they were. I'm trying to stop," he clarified. "He started provoking me and calling you names and it was pissing me off because I think I—never mind. He was calling you names and I was getting annoyed so I told him to leave for both of our sakes but he started pushing me around so I punched him. I didn't get hurt, he suffered most damage to be fair."

I hide a small smile, looking down. I shouldn't feel honoured that he was defending me against someone who hated me but I did, because even though we weren't speaking, he still stuck up for me.

Brad's hand moves to my chin, moving my head up, "you're not mad?"

"I promised I wouldn't be," I tell him. "I'm not mad anyway. I'm annoyed—at him, not you, though."

"I wanna stop ignoring you, I wanna go back to being friends," he says, sitting up properly. "I miss being able to annoy the hell out of you."

"You're good at that," I comment, a small smile on my face. "But I'd like that, too, being friends again."

"Good."

unedited.