His only reason (Emblem 3 fanfic)

His only reason (Emblem 3 fanfic - Chapter 13)

I woke up famished. My stomach was growling so loud, I’m surprised it hadn’t woken up Wesley, whom was contently asleep next to me, head drenched in his pillow. Just seeing him at peace erupted a cheeky smile on my face, he was so beautiful when he wasn’t stressed out.

Silently sitting up, I stared back at his calmed face, where his mouth was slightly opened, and his chest was broadening with every breath. His bottom lip quivered with every cold breath he exhaled. The room temperature must’ve dropped, or somebody must’ve been messing with the thermostat in the middle of the evening.

I got up silently, careful not to wake Wesley, and walked out of the mysterious room I’d woken up in the night before. I was greeted by a bigger living room, a small kitchen was set in the far right corner and a 6 person dining table was set in a smaller dining area. There was a balcony to my left, which exposed the complete beauty of times square, which even at this hour of the morning, was buzzing with people.

Businessmen overtook the streets, despite it being an early Saturday morning. The city truly never slept, and clearly the workforce hadn’t either. There were a few homeless people roaming the streets around them, holding small paper cups out to every man who ignored their presence, pleading for a quarter or two. One in particular caught my eye, there was a young man, most likely in his 20’s sat in a wheelchair next to a small dog, which sat on a piece of tattered blanket to his right. They both looked malnourished, and over exhausted.

Every man who walked by though, took little notice to the pair, his only hope was if a man dropped a dollar accidentally, or would take the time out of his day to un-glue his eyes from his smart phone. Technology took over our generation, and it’s depressing really. I’ve never had enough money to afford that new smart phone or new gadget that would ‘change the way we’d live’ but I knew well enough it wasn’t a necessity, just a way to grab people’s money.

As you mature, you realize the little things in life really do matter, no matter how cliche that may sound. I’ve come to acknowledge this, and for that reason, I knew what my first tattoo was going to be. “The worst things in life come free to us”, a beautiful lyric by the talented Ed Sheeran, which will be crafted in a small font on my left ribcage. Not just for the homeless man and his dog on the street but in general. My father’s murder, cancer, death. Everything comes to us at no charge, no matter if we’d like it or not. When you appreciate the little things in life, the new 'smart phones' and hottest new pair of shoes don't really seem to matter anymore.

I was so captured by my thoughts I hadn’t noticed the scent of fresh pancakes being baked, so when I turned my head to notice Keaton, singing softly with his back to me, flipping pancakes I was surprised. His hair was messy, and lying flat on his forehead. He was wearing a matching pair of dark blue flannel pajamas, one of his socks cared for a hole by the pinky toe. “Why are you awake?” I questioned, briskly approaching the off-guard boy in his baggy sweat pants.

He turned back, astonished that I was behind him, and grinned. “We’re supposed to be on some sort of diet, to look better for the live shows”, he started. “But I always wake up extra early to get in some breakfast. Those 90 calorie breakfast bars don’t quit cut it. Want a bite?” Keaton held up a small piece of banana pancake on the fork that was hanging in his left hand, and placed it near my mouth. I took a bite, cheekily licking the fork, appreciating the ‘small gift’ he’d given me. Surprisingly it wasn’t bad, and I congratulated him on cooking proper pancakes. His eyes glistened, and he turned back to the frying pan, ready to clean it off before his band mates awoke. 

“It reminds me of that Jack Johnson song,” he chuckled, turning off the stove, flipping his last pancake onto a tiny plate. “Song is meant to keep ya from doing what your supposed to, like waking up too early.” His smile grew, and his voice deepened. “Maybe we can sleep in, I’ll make you banana pancakes,” He turned back and moved in closer towards my face, putting his right pointer finger under my chin, lifting it so we were eye level. “Pretend like its the weekend now.” His eyes lingered, searching mine, but we ended up having a short laughing fit, and going to sit around the dining room table, feeding each other pancakes and attempting to get through those ‘get to know each other’ question sessions. 

“You go first,” I insisted through a mouthful of banana. Without hesitation, the first question nearly exploded out of his mouth, “What was your first impression of me?” The day before, in Penn Station. After rethinking my answer a couple of times, I sided on this. “I thought you had a fantastic music taste, since we were both clearly enjoying the man in Penn,” I started, as his cheeks began to blush. “And, your voice was beautifully harmonizing with his. I just didn’t know why you wouldn’t answer me, and why you walked away.” Ignoring my oblivious next question, he asked for a ‘different question’, insisting he hadn’t ignored me and I needed to ‘check my eyes’.

“What was your first impression of me?” His hand immediately reached for his fork, and quickly shoved some food back into his mouth, preventing himself from answering. He repeated this a few times, until I repeated, and he looked back up at me. “I thought you were the most.." He searched his plate for the right word to say. "Awsome person in the whole train station-- Other than the man you spilt your coffee on, he was quite a looker.” I shook my head, smiling to my vacant plate, and quickly licked my lips. Not the answer I was expecting. “You saw that?”

He nodded, but our session was cut short by Drew, who yawned his way into the kitchen, slouching himself over the seat opposite of me, beside Keaton. His flannel pants sat low on his waist, and his chest was bare. “What are you eating?” He asked, rubbing his dulled eyes. I glanced at Keaton, who’s eyes widened and he was violently shaking his head at me. “Keaton made me pancakes, we were going to run out to the coffee shop but we figured we’d wait for you.”

Drew stared at me, trying to look for a crack in my sentence, but unable to find one, he agreed, getting out of his chair. He began to walk for a coat rack that lay right near the front door of the small hotel room, where he grabbed a dark blue ski jacket. “Do you want me to wake up Wesley?” Keaton answered for us, agreeing that it was too early and we shouldn’t wake him up, he’d been up all night making sure I was alright. Drew didn’t hesitate though, and quietly walked out the door, yawning, holding it open for both Keaton and I.

I was still dressed in the clothing I wore the day before, but noticed my jacket limply hanging on the coat rack, next to Keaton’s. He handed it to me, and zipped up his own. It nearly overpowered his thin figure, hiding his perfect small curves. “You look like a marshmallow,” I smirked, nudging him out the door. With a roll of the eyes, we made our way to the hotel elevator, but not without noticing how nicely ornamented the hallways were. The carpet was a brick color, which gold detailing and small dazzled lights lighting up every few feet of the hall. The ceiling was entirely mirrored, so if you really wanted to know how the top of your head looked, you most certainly could. Drew took a liking to this ‘mirrored hallway’, looking up every few feet to check out his reflection, winking at himself then attempting to keep up with Keaton’s brisk pace.

“Why are you walking so fast, bro?” He pestered, nearly ripping Keaton’s arm off as we neared the elevator doors. “No reason,” Keaton responded, shuffling his fingers inside his jacket, nervously awaiting for the elevator’s floor number to reach 7.

“I’m sure they’re not going to run out of coffee, if that’s why you’re anxious.” “That’s clearly not the reason,” Keaton sneered back at Drew, granting him a glare. Confused, I stepped back, but accidently stepped into another person waiting for the elevator.

“Oh, I’m sorry-” I turned to apologize, but it was Wesley. He was grinning, hands stuffed in his jacket pockets. “I woke up just in time,” He answered, as the elevator door jutted open. The whole elevator ride down, Keaton was silent. 

Author's Note: Sorry it took so long!! Hope you like, loving the Wesley/Keaton comments, whoo will she choose ;) MSG for One Direction was good though too, next update friday, yeh?:)x