Give Me A Label (I'll Make Confetti)

Chapter 37: Life Is Like A Boat

Greg was woken from a fitful sleep by a banging on his bedroom window. He jolted awake, snorting as he did and wiping away drool, and turned to try and see what had woken him.

It took him at least a minute to wake up properly and realise someone was trying to climb through his bedroom window. He sighed, figuring it was Dimmock, and slid from bed. He stumbled across to his window, scrubbing away the last remnants of sleep, and pushed his bedroom window open.

'Mycroft?' he spluttered, eyes widening. The other boy was wearing tight red jeans, a black button-up shirt, and black chucks. He had a few leather bands around his neck and wrists, and thick black eyeliner highlighted his blue eyes, lids smudged with dark red eyeshadow.

Mycroft grinned lopsidedly at him, and it didn't take Greg long to realise the other teenager was drunk. He hurried to lean through the window when Mycroft tried to climb through, and after a lot of grunting, swearing, and giggling- that was from Mycroft- Greg got the red-head into his bedroom.

He closed his bedroom window part way and when he turned it was to see Mycroft swaying dangerously, staring around Greg's room.

'Mycroft, what are you doing here?' Greg asked, stepping closer. He didn't want to just reach out and touch Mycroft, not after earlier at the movies. He moved just close enough to grab Mycroft if the other teen fell.

'Went to... party,' Mycroft said, voice thick and speech slurred. Luckily Greg had dealt with many drunk teenagers, and a drunk Mycroft, so he got what the other boy was saying.

'You went to Matt Sanders'?' Greg asked. When Mycroft nodded he said, 'You didn't drive, did you?'

Mycroft snorted and shook his head, stumbling after he did and leaning heavily against Greg. He giggled and stuttered, 'N-No, no d-drivin'...'

'Okay,' Greg said. 'What are you doing here?'

'Guy,' Mycroft murmured, 'a guy... h-hit on me.'

Greg felt his heart skip a beat and bile rise in his throat. He could picture it; Mycroft and some hot guy, kissing and touching each other. It made anger surge through his gut and his fingers curled into fists.

'T-touched... mee,' Mycroft slurred, shaking his head again. Greg once more steadied him. 'Kissed me,' he mumbled.

'What?' Greg demanded.

'Wasn' you,' Mycroft grunted. 'Not y-you, not you, it... it w-wasn't...'

'Yeah, he wasn't me,' Greg cut in, rubbing his eyes with his free hand. He pulled Mycroft around until they were face-to-face. 'Why are you telling me this?'

Mycroft blinked, his eyes roaming over Greg's face, trying to focus. 'He... w-wasn't you,' he said.

'I know, you've said that,' Greg said.

'I w-wanted it... be-be you...' Mycroft slurred.

Greg stared. 'What?'

'I w-wanted... want... y-you,' Mycroft murmured. He reached out, stroking a hand along Greg's stomach. 'Al-always... you...'

'You... you want me?' Greg asked. Mycroft nodded. 'Even after today?'

Suddenly Mycroft stumbled back and Greg went with him, keep the red-head standing.

'I'm sorry,' Mycroft slurred, sounding like he was in pain. 'I'm s-so sorry.'

'About what?' Greg asked. Mycroft was swaying more than before and Greg made him sit on the bed.

'Today,' Mycroft said, practically whimpering, 'I didn't mean to-to push you a-away, I'm sorry.'

'It's okay, Mycroft, you didn't do anything wrong.'