I Promise. (Damien x Reader)

Episode 7 - Pillow Forts

Your eyes flutter open, gasping for air. Not a dream you suspected, but never-the-less, your brain just loves to freak you out. Your head rests on Ethan's chest, as he snores subtly. He's thankfully a quiet snorer... but on some occasions, you could hear him through the walls. There's a soft grey blanket resting over you like a cloak. You don't remember how you exactly went into this situation of sleeping on him- but it's fine. At least he's comfy, ya know?

But, who said wake up? Was it Mark? Or... hmm... Ethan can't say wake up when he's asleep, common sense. But anyway, you come to your senses after zoning out, and Ethan is rubbing your back. "Hey sleepy-head" He mumbles. His coarse voice vibrates his chest. "Do you always sound like that when you're tired?" You raise your head up, just enough to look into his stare. "My voice isn't warmed up. It's like- tired too, ya know." He sighs. "Is that a good thing or a bad thing?" Ethan asks, after a few moments of silence. "I don't know- an OK thing." You huff. Ethan shakes his head in disbelief.

"Just an OK thing? Okay." He retorts. "I don't know how to respond! I'm sorry" You shrug it off, Ethan nods. You ignore the fact that there were pillows and blankets everywhere. "We made pillow forts-" Ethan sighed. The memory is flooding back to you. A competition, between you and him to see who can make the best pillow forts (unnus annus reference my friend). You nod, a smile growing on your face. "Yeah! Ok. I won by a longshot" You point at the better pillow fort, maximum comfiness that sits right in the corner of the small living room. "____, that's my pillow fort-" Ethan remarks, his head tilted to the side in disbelief. The other pillow fort- which was truly yours was in shambles on the ground.

"Wait- oh no" Your confidence slowly went down the drain, and you burst out laughing. Ethan did the same.

You guys were just crack heads, laying on the floor from the laughter. Both of your abs hurt like hell- but you didn't care. You got to spend this time with someone you truly appreciate, your lil' Ethan (pretend to scrunch up his little cheeks, aww so cute ikr!!). After talking on the floor for about 10 or so minutes, you decided to get yourself off the ground and do something, semi-productive.

"Ethan, I'ma go shower real quick-" You say, pointing your thumb at the bathroom door. You heard a brief 'mrmpphh' from Ethan, as he giggles every now and then. The forts are still on his mind. You sigh, closing the door behind you. As you took your shower- thoughts rang through your mind.

'Why did I dream about Mark?'

'Was Mark real?'

'What happened with the event?'

'What did Wilford do?'

Your mind was trying to process all that happened at the mansion in your dream and when you first met Damien yesterday.

After you turned off the water, you stepped out of the shower, wrapping a towel around you- and walked in front of the mirror above the sink. It was fogged up, condensation dripping down around the corners. You drag your finger on the mirror, writing a small note in the steam;

"Hi Ethan (:"

Your handwriting was certainly, appealing. Satisfying to look at, like cursive, but less complicated.

You cracked open the door, squeezing out - not letting the steam escape the bathroom. It needs to dissipate on its own. If that doesn't happen, it will get to the smoke alarm right outside of the bathroom, and set it off.

You change into high-waisted jeans, and a large sweater, loosely tucked in. You slip on your socks and your black and white converse. Once your hair dried (or by the time you were bored of social media)- you brushed it out, setting it in your favorite style.

Ethan walked in, leaning against the door frame, his arms crossed on his chest. "You leaving to see that Damien?" Ethan asks. You nod weakly like you were concerned for his response. Ethan drops his head. "Okay. Be back soon, movie night" He smiles. "Kay'!" You throw on your black leather backpack and head down the small hallway to the front door, locking the front door behind you once you close it.

The city streets are somewhat empty today, which is nice. Jack is nowhere in sight, which is even better. You felt that today would be a good day, with music just playing in your head. Hamilton, Dear Evan Hansen- all of those musicals just jamming in your conscience.

You stroll cheerfully down the winding rods that lead you to the manor. After about 15-20 minutes of walking, you approach the gates of the large home. They open without you pressing the intercom. It was welcoming. It was like a fairytale home, but if it was medival or even victorian.

You walk down the stone path towards the front door, and you knock on it. An unexpected person answered the door, someone you have only seen in your dream, a mysterious lady - but in a bathrobe.

"May I help you?"