The Pajama Kid

Chapter Eight- Cheese and Jam?

*whispers* Guess who's back, back, back- back again :))

Will's POV

A throbbing pain rings in my head, dizziness and fatigue building up in my throat like rotting, putrid, acid.

Sharp noises shriek in my ears whilst bright flashes shine in my eyes. My stomach clenches and churns; fighting the urge to fall down-

I carry on.

As I make the tedious decent down the stairs, my hands curl into fists at my sides.

Freddie clutches at my frail waist, with a stunningly gentle but firm grasp. He's supporting the majority of my weight but I still can't stop the aching.

"Nearly there" he gently whispers in my ear, a supportive smile settling onto his gorgeous face.

I chuckle, halfheartedly, and place another foot down painfully.

After around half an hour of trying, I reach the bottom of the stairs and almost collapse on Freddie.

He hoists me up, gently, into a semi bridal style position and walks into the brightly lit kitchen. My mum looks up, then screams with shock.

Freddie sits me down on the sofa- giving me an apprehensive glance.

"Will? Why are you downstairs? You're supposed to be resting- you need to rest!" She fusses around me, flustered and confused.

I sigh, quietly, and grip Freddie's hand firmly in mine.

"Mum..." I begin weakly, "I-it's good for me to move, I can't expect to get better holed up in my room!"

She looks at me with a fuming expression,

"No! William, the diet will help you! Please, this exercise is not good for you...you're making it worse."

She grips the glass in her hand so hard; I'm afraid it will shatter. Her hands are shaking wildly, her delicate face scrunched up in unkempt agitation.

I don't know what to do.

Freddie places a gentle hand on my trembling shoulders, before addressing my mum.

"Ma'am...he needs exercise, he's withering away up there and a diet won't fix that."

She glares, her eyes swelling with unkempt tears, before storming upstairs towards my sister's room.

I can vaguely hear the loud sobs and aggressive shouts echoing from above.

I sigh, quietly, before resting my head on Freddie's broad shoulder. It's not her fault, she just worries too much sometimes. Dad says that I need to do exercise to get better but mum always denies it.

I suppose she doesn't want me to injure myself further- she wants to keep me out of harms way.

I'm guided to the table, a supportive grip around my waist.

A freshly made ham and beetroot sandwich is placed in-front of me. I smile slightly; he remembered my favourite combination.

A soft kiss is placed on my lips; my cheeks turning bright red. We kiss again- hands grazing against one another; grasping sharp intakes of air. His arms lock around my waist, pulling me closer to him.

We break apart slowly, gasping and panting from the lack of oxygen. It was so intense, beautiful and shockingly passionate.

Freddie sits down next to me, nuzzling his face slightly into my hair before pulling away. With stilted silence hanging heavily in the air, I glance over to his plate and-