𝚆𝚑𝚒𝚕𝚎 𝚜𝚞𝚖𝚖𝚎𝚛 𝚕𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚜 (𝙱𝚕𝚊𝚔𝚎𝚏𝚒𝚎𝚕𝚍 𝚊𝚞)

June 18/19th

Tom Blake was drunk.
Unbelievably drunk. I can't believe I let him have so much what have I done? Will was expecting to spend his night by maybe looking at the stars and constellations or maybe watching a movie with his partner but no. No, he was stuck in Tom's small room with bright, flashing LED's changing from red to green to blue every other second. No, he was stuck with a wildly drunk teenager singing break my stride. The Gemini season was coming to a close and Will wanted to look up at the constellation again. Castor and Pollux he thought duel-natured personalities. What a coincidence.
The song ended with Tom's awfully off-key note and Will's small discovery. There was a small break between songs,
"Oh hey Scho remember my uniform I bought a bit back?"
Oh yes how could Will forget Tom's ecstatic chatter at school about how he got a British uniform from the First World War. Tom hates to admit it but he has a thing for history.
"Yea?"
"Mm I'm gonna go throw it on" he slurred and stumbled into his closet. Will hummed to himself and swung his legs back and forth, hitting the bottom of the bed. He pulled out his phone and began to scroll through his selection of ebooks on medieval music and art. As soon as he started reading, a loud thump disturbed his focus.
Tom was sloppily leaned against the doorway with the bottle of vodka in his hand.
"Ya like?"
Will chuckled, "Dear, I think you need to slow some on the alcohol." He stood up and walked over to help Tom stay steady.
"Nonsense!" He slurred, "I've only had five shots! Am not drunk!"
"Sure you're not, just don't start throwing up or something."
Tom pressed play on his phone and the playlist continued. Will zoned out until Tom's screeches were impossible to ignore.
"I CAN BE WHO I WANNA BE AND SEXYYY I CAN BE WHO I WANNA BE AND HOOOOOOT"
"Good lord what are you singing?"
"I LIKE MUSICALS OK SCHO? ITS NOT WEIRD OR ANYTHING AT LEAST IM NOT LIKE YOU LISTEN TO SOME OLD STUFF LIKE BAYDOG!"
"Beowulf. And it's fine just not what I expected.."
He returned to the bed and began reading again, only occasionally glancing up at Tom acting like a lunatic. Who sings showtunes while in a military uniform? And why do I love him for it?
"I EXPECT TO RUN THE WORLD IN SHOES I CANNOT WALK IN!" he strutted and ironically, fell over and landed directly onto Will. Will removed the helmet from his head,
"I think you need to get to sleep, it's 1:30 in the morning."
Tom hummed, "Not that late honestly." He dragged himself onto the bed and curled up next to Will. Will sighed, being the responsible one he had to turn the lights and music off and decided to open the blinds so the moonlight would shine in.
"You gonna change out of that? Doesn't look comfortable.."
"Nahhhh" he slurred.
Will laid down next to the wreck of a person next to him. He debated if he should hold his hand or not, he's rarely seen him drunk and wouldn't know how he'd react.
"Aren't ya gonna change? Doesn't look to comfy" the drunk slurred. True, Will's khaki slacks and white button down wouldn't be good to sleep in.
"I don't have any other clothes with me at the moment."
"Aw why didn't ya say so?"
"I just did-"
"You can wear any of my stuff" he mumbled. Will grabbed a random gray hoodie and black sweatpants then returned to his spot. Tom looked oddly comfortable and was about to doze off. Will's eyes became heavy and he almost fell asleep as soon as his head his the pillow but, like clockwork, was interrupted.
"Scho can you tell me a story?"
"I'm really tired, and besides you don't even like what I read anyway."
Tom shifted and wrapped his arms around the other's waist and buried his head into his stomach,
"Don't care", he mumbled "just tell me a story."
"Um ok let's see.." he began to twirl and play with his, assumed lover's, soft brown curls then proceeded to recite the only story he knew off the top of his head in a soft whisper
Whan that aprill with his shoures soote
The droghte of march hath perced to the roote,
And bathed every veyne in swich licour
Of which vertu engendered is the flour;
Whan zephirus eek with his sweete breeth
Inspired hath in every holt and heeth
Tender croppes, and the yonge sonne
Hath in the ram his halve cours yronne
"What story is this?"
"Oh it's the intro to The Canterbury Tales."
"Explains it, that's how I know you're smart! I don't understand a thing you talk about sometimes!" his voice was slurred, muttered and yet still had a tinge of its signature sweetness. In no time at all, Tom was out cold, fingers still intertwined with Will's.