Fifty Shades of Larry (On Hold)

TWENTY-SIX

➖TWENTY-SIX➖

Laurent approached the door, his hands clamped to the sides of the grey baggy sweatpants he was wearing. His black wife beater clung to his torso tightly making his beating heart a little more visible.

It was late in the night, Laurent had been back from work almost 3 hours. His head had been jogging with countless scoldings and reenacting of how the day would have gone if he had not been stupid enough to leave the office when Larry needed him.

But he was here now, ready to fix his mistakes. Ready to get back on Larry's good graces. So, he knocked on the door. Twice.

Letting his hand fall by his side again, Laurent waited for an answer, a respond or even a sound. He knew Larry was in. Larry had left the office early that morning and had been home since then. Felix had confirmed this.

He was probably still angry, that was why he wasn't responding.

"Larry?" Laurent called, leaning his forehead on the door. His long fingernails scratched on the door in frustration. "Can we talk?"

This is all you fault, Laurent. It is you fault.

His guilt showed him no mercy. It pricked and poked him and almost drove him crazy.

But I only trying for help! He retorted, defending himself. He hit his head against the wooden polished door, a sigh leaving his mouth.

"Larry Bourgeois," He called, tiredly. He was sorry. He needed to tell it to Larry.

But Larry was as stubborn as glue. He wasn't letting off. He was adamant at not hearing Laurent's apology.

When Laurent realised Larry wasn't opening the door, he moved away from the door and walked back to his room.

Tomorrow is another day, he told himself. Although he wasn't sure what tomorrow might bring. Larry might send him packing. He might fire him. He might lose everything he had achieved so far, including in his relationship with Larry.

Laurent stopped walking. He was going to try harder. He turned around and walked back to Larry's room. This time around, he didn't knock. He turned the knob of the door, pushed the door and stepped into the conducive and spacious room.

Larry's sweet scent at once swept him off his feet and he was immersed in a totally different feeling, one that required him to hold Larry and bury his face in his neck or any part of his body.

The room was dark, Laurent couldn't see a thing. But he was familiar with the room and the landscape so he knew where what was, and so he made his way to where he knew Larry's bes was. Slowly, gently, his feet tapped the cold tiles of Larry's floor, but soon his feet cushioned in thick cloud rug and he knew he was near Larry's bed.

Could Larry see him? Was he even awake?

Laurent could now faintly make out the budge figure of Larry under the sheets. Was he still hurting?

"Larry," Laurent whispered. If he was asleep, Laurent didn't want to wake him.

Daring himself, Laurent climbed the empty space next to Larry and lay down, facing him. His eyes fixed on Larry's face. His eyes shut, lower lips pulled into his teeth, his forehead creased.

He was awake.

"Larry. I so sorry," Laurent whispered. "I non mean for hurt you."

Laurent felt Larry shift on the bed. He feared. He expected to be shoved away - off the bed. Larry was probably disgusted by him staying there.