Big bad Damsel

CHAPTER [8] Darren with Jafaar's moustache.

Eleven o'clock morphs into twelve and then one. The time trickles by, marked only by those changing glowing numerals. Damsel's mind is blank; where there should've been dreams was a heavy blackness. His eyes were as stationary as the silhouette of the bedside lampon the table next to the bed, which is where they rested. 

Matthew,

Ereloc,

My mate,

My pack,

Darren,

It was just him in there, staring at the still roof that hung over him, it was just a boring shade of painted grey yet his eyes were wide and open, staring at them as though they were the most interesting thing he's ever seen. After some moments his mind drifted off to memories of his childhood, recalling the times he spent with his dad, the times him and Matthew would sneak out at night,

well it was Damsel pressuring him to sneak out.

Now that he recalled, those memories he thought were blissful childhood memories now made sense to Matthews words, it really was just Matthew putting up with his antics.

Oh how he missed the gentle embrace of the silhoutte in his dream, if he could dream of him again, maybe he could shed himself of all those feelings of guilt and regret, even if it were only just for a second, the scent of his embrace could calm him down immedietly.

Would his mate smell like that?

Would his mate be as warm as him?

Now he'd never know.

He shook his head in a sorrowful manner, he shouldn't think of his mate anymore, now that the idea was as possible as flying pigs.

 He recalled an old russian romantic tale that his mother would read him back in his girly dresses days, where the princess got kidnapped and prince came forth to save her from the treacherous villain. He almost laughed at how ironic it was in this situation, maybe his mate would save him from being held 'hostage' by the villain that was Darren knight.

He snickered, imagining Darren with those disney mustaches, similar to Jafaar's, holding a knife.

 He let the tale mull around his head. Perhaps this old story can pull his thoughts into the randomness that is a prelude to sleep and dreams. 

Damsel was unable to sleep,

again. 

-

Damsel's open eyes started stinging from how long he had them open for, the dryness made him tear up a little, after tossing and turning for what seemed like forever, damsel couldn't help but curse at the springy mattress that literally poked needles into his back, it was impossible to sleep on.

Though there were needles poking his brain aswell.

He groaned as he turned to the nighttable, grabbing his phone to check the time, surely it wasn't already morning, right?

5 am, the icon showed.

He screamed into the pillow, when he went to put his phone back down before he noticed something unbelievable in his notification bar.

"Oh my fucking god!" He gasped.

50

fucking

missed calls.

All from the same contact name,

  Idiot.

Damsel's eyes almost popped out of his head as he stared in disbelief at the notification,