Bad Boy, Good Boy (boyxboy)

27 - don't hurt me (part 4)

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chapter 27 – don't hurt me (part 4)

In the morning I have a headache.

I wake up, realizing I've been frowning in my sleep, which is the main cause for the pain inside my skull. Lately I've been frowning a lot in my sleep and I'm not sure whether it's the dreams or am I just purely unhappy with how my life is going. What is there to frown about? Is my subconscious not happy that I've managed to successfully become a badass?

Well, I guess I'll just have to deal with the frowning for a while. Two months until graduation, then summer, and after all that I'll be gone. I'll disappear into a city somewhere for at least a couple of years, and after I've established my career and become successful, I'll return and laugh in the faces of everyone who looked at me the wrong way.

I curse out loud as a pang of discomfort shoots through my head, and stretch my arm across the bed, only for it to land on something other than my bed. This confuses me.

I blink my eyes open. So far my vision's been blurry.

Then I remember I'm not the only one in my room. Which means I've just accidentally hit the very sleeping Cameron. He doesn't seem to have felt it, though, and I'm glad. It would be awkward as hell to wake up the same time in the same bed.

I never thought I'd be sleeping with the enemy, figuratively speaking of course.

Sometime during the night or the early morning he must've turned to face me, whether that was a conscious decision or not – I'm hoping not, otherwise it would be weird. I glance at his sleeping form. So much less annoying now that he is awake. This peaceful Cameron I could actually deal with. I actually can stand to be near this version of him. His face looks younger in his sleeping form. He has lighter hair, more of an olive skin tone, but not as dark as mine. He looks sweet. Not a (literal) fighter at all. I narrow my eyes at him, wondering why he's fighting at all.

Fuck, I've gone all soft. Let's just be clear – I do NOT like him. He gives me chills, like when the water is way too cold and you might just freeze your arse off, or the kind of chills when you're walking down an alley and it smells horribly and you're mind is racing with all kinds of different, but equally horrid thoughts, like maybe there's someone following you or maybe the next turn left there's a clown with a knife and you know you won't make it home.

Everything about him is wrong and I don't know why exactly. Because he hasn't done anything for me to be weirdly and strangely afraid of him. He's actually been kind of nice to me.

Or am I just overthinking?

And if so, what exactly have I been overthinking and how much? Like, is there a scale on which I can measure how much overthinking has been done my poor awful brain?

Fuck.

I get out of bed, throw on a shirt and put some shorts on, and drag my feet to the bathroom. I can smell cinnamon. Someone's making breakfast, and – having left the door open – I'm sure it won't be long until Cameron can smell it too.

I've already started this morning on the wrong foot. And someone's going to have to drive him to his dorm. Which will be me. I roll my eyes and my neck, take a leak, wash my face with cold water, and start brushing my teeth.

And then I hear a faint "Good morning". Immediately, I turn around, but it wasn't directed at me. Which means he's up. Which means he's in the kitchen, having met someone from my family. Which means they know I had a boy over.