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Revelations
What...
What the hell..?
I can't believe he didn't say anything before...
Not like there would have been a good time for him to talk, but...
Oh god.
Haylen felt sick to his stomach, and this time it wasn't from swallowing too much blood or getting his face smashed in or saying something he shouldn't have. It was from what he'd just learned; from what he'd just seen through a window into Simon's shadowed past.
"It's not like I matter anyways. I can't replace Kevin! He was always the greater brother, and I think so too, but I'm not him okay? What the hell, if I want to be that great, should I blow my head up too, huh?!"
"You can't be serious," Haylen said with disbelief, throwing his hands into the air. Simon hadn't yet appeared in the door room, for which Haylen was eternally grateful. He needed some time to think.
So...
Simon's brother committed suicide, and now Simon has the burden of trying to be as good as him.
...dear god.
That's tough.
The tanned boy sat down on his mattress, taking a deep breath and running a slender hand through his dark, choppy hair. It was hard for him to process much right now; he felt so overwhelmed and yet so completely drained at the same time. His head hurt and his nose ached and he almost entertained the thought of knocking himself out to fall asleep.
This is way too much to take right now.
I can't think about everything. My brain probably doesn't have the capacity.
"So... Simon's brother blew his own brains out?" Haylen exhaled, his breath shaky and irregular. "Christ..."
Between my mom and her boyfriend and Simon's brother... it's just happy times all around, isn't it?
With thoughts of the redhead fresh in his mind, Haylen instinctively peered at the door, growing paranoid and wondering when Sy would come barreling angrily through it. He pressed his hand subconsciously to the bruise on his kneecap that had been brand-spankin'-new the day he'd arrived at school, flinching a bit when it ached beneath his touch.
What do they say, though... misery loves company.
Looks like I wasn't company enough.
Haylen couldn't help but wonder what was about to come. Simon would be at their dorm any minute now, and the two of them would have to face each other.
Are we gonna fight some more?
Hell, I sure as anything hope not... I can't take it right now.
Should I bring up his brother? No.
Should I bring up Matt? Definitely no. That's a 'never' no.
Ah, god, I hate people...
Just as his thoughts began to settle and his body temperature lower, Haylen heard the door creak open, and looked up just enough to see Simon's familiar head of hair poke through.
"Hmm," he mused raspily as Simon entered the room, unable to manage much else. "So."
Why are school's halls always made with the same kind of linoleum floors, with those bland tile patterns, repeating over, and over, and over, and over...? It was the only thing Sy's brain was first able to register, the repeating tiles that would orderly disappear under his footsteps, walking automatically with his head hanging low. Yes, he was moping, yes, he was sulking, yes, he was being a depressing show to watch. He didn't care. He didn't exist, at least that's how he saw it. Walking ghost facing something he'd been ignoring. It was better to just lounge here, in this hollowness that left his thoughts in oblivion. To see, hear or feel, nothing.
But his heart still pumped blood, his veins echoing the slow rhythmic beat in his ears.
thump....ta-thump.....thump.....ta-thump.....
There was no way to escape it, he was still here, and Kevin was not. No matter how he had tried he had been unable to accept it, surely why he'd grown the way he did. And now not only was he faced with admitting his own reasoning to himself, but he'd said them out loud to someone else, someone he had to live with, literally.
Ugh.
....
I think I've outdone myself on this one.
His thoughts were returning along with his full consciousness as he neared his own dorm room. Even if he was partly back in the reality that was his cursed world, he didn't feel any surge to cry, nor his throat tightened. His nerves weren't shot though the exhaustion was still there, but there was no way of telling if that was just the remains of the previous events or something in light of the recent coming to. There was only this void he couldn't shake off, that inability that gave the impression he'd forever lost the capacity to smile, cry, or even feel anything extreme.
Apparently discomfort wasn't part of the forbidden array of emotions, and he felt it the second he heard Haylen's "So."" after entering the room. Without much readable body language, he dragged his feet to his bed, not once looking at him, his rasped voice heaving out of his lungs with difficulty.
"Just forget it. It's nothing okay. Sorry I flipped, I lost my mind, and before you say anything, yes, you're right, I'm wrong, I'm an idiot floor mat and the rest of it."
He didn't think he could really face anything right now. He didn't even sense that hatred which was so acidly vivid simple moments earlier. He was just another person there, and he respected people, end of the story.
Unable to gather the strength to undressed, or even lift his blankets, he let himself fall over the covers, rolling on his back as he stared at the ceiling. It irritated him, this fatigue and yet, lacking the ability to sleep, or even close his eyes for that matter.
"Haylen?" he whispered, glancing lightly at the boy, keeping both his hands crossed over his abdomen.
"I know I probably aren't in the right place to ask any favors of you, but would you mind, not mentioning any of this, to anyone, not even to me? I'd rather just, forget about it."
He knew the guy had pieced the puzzle together, even if he hadn't declared in full his story, but there was enough to make the general outline of it.
For the first time in a while, Haylen actually felt something. He felt awful. He felt grief, guilt, and even a bit of sympathy, all topped off with a healthy dollop of self-hatred. As Simon apologized and asked Haylen not to bring the subject of suicide up again, Haylen felt like maybe the poor kid's words actually were worth listening to.
What is this...?
I shouldn't give a damn about Simon, not after what he did to me.
But... it's just that...
We have something in common. We have tragedy in common.
How friggin' sad is that.
Haylen fell back softly, the impact of his weight making the hard mattress creak. He rolled onto his side, facing Simon, his ribs digging into the bed beneath him. "Hey..." he offered, his voice on the verge of being gentle. "Simon... I know you're not actually sorry, and that you just don't really know how to feel right now, but whatever. I... I'm sorry 'bout Kevin."
I'm not about to kiss and make up, though.
I don't want to say sorry. I don't want to say sorry for calling him a stupid doormat or anything else that I said. He just admitted it himself, too, didn't he?
Plus, I don't really feel bad enough.
...Yes I do.
Holy hell.
I can't say sorry, though...
Haylen felt his chest muscles tighten with anxiety as thoughts of apologizing to Simon crossed his mind. It was nearly impossible for him to make sincere steps towards bettering situations. 'Sorry' was hardly a word in his vocabulary. Back at home, he had used it far too frequently for it to mean much any more, and yet it was still a terrifying idea to him. He could only think of the many times he'd said it to Matt, to his mom...
The speed of Matt's fist was impossible to dodge, and it crashed against Haylen's cheekbone with a splintery crack, causing him to stumble backwards and land on his basement floor.
"Listen up, you useless little shit!" The older man bellowed at him, squatting down over Haylen's chest to grasp tightly at the boy's throat. "I'm sick of hearing you talk to your mother like she's the cruelest woman in the world! You say one more rude thing to her and I'll-"
Haylen couldn't even close his eyes before one calloused hand detatched itself from his neck and raised up to strike him just beneath the collarbone, accompanied with a harsh laugh.
"I'll do that over and over and over until your chest breaks open and your heart thuds to a stop, you hear me? Don't you talk to her like that again! Apologize right now: 'I'm sorry, Matt, I was a selfish little prick...' C'mon, say it, kid...!" Matt squeezed tighter at Haylen's throat, sneering down at him.
"I don't even know what I said to her-"
"God, I'm still in awe as to how Clara even birthed a hellion like you! Your father must really be a horrible man. Just say sorry, damnit!"
"I'm s-sorry," Haylen choked out, hot liquid nestled in the corners of his eyes and making his thick lashes stick together. "I'm sorry."
Matt let go of Haylen's strained neck, standing quickly and dusting off his jeans. "No you're not. Now make yourself look nice before your pretty mother gets home."
Haylen's throat ached at the mere recollection of that horrible incident. It had happened only a few days before he'd arrived at boarding school, and both the images and sensations were fresh in his mind.
He pushed the thoughts from his mind and continued speaking to Simon. "I know you said not to bring it up, but... it's really not gonna do anything for you if you just keep it all inside."
I'm a filthy hypocrite.
"And... just... I know you probably want nothing to do with me right now," Haylen finished, biting at his lip, "but I'm actually a good listener, so. You know. If you want to talk or something."
What is this, a little therapy session now?
It's like one of those scenes from a cheesy camp movie, where the two girls pour their hearts out to each other from across the room, both of them lying on their respective beds and facing each other.
Except.. we're not girls. And there aren't tissues and Oreos and orange candlelight involved.
...And seriously, bipolar much?
I think I probably need meds to keep me sane. To make me sane, really.
Sigh.
At any normal time, there were little more that was more irritating than being told how he felt. But this time, he couldn't deny the truth of it. He wasn't truly sorry, at least not about the cruel things he'd said to Haylen. He was sorry about loosing his cool, about loosing control of himself to the extent that his issues came flying out. There was no apology there, just a "sorry" made of regrets. Still, it probably was the first nice thing Haylen had said since they'd known each other, at least the first nice thing that didn't appear to be orchestrated by selfish plan at the end of the line.
"Thanks."
Both boys had their voice slightly hushed, contributing to calm atmosphere residing in the room. The invitation to talk was tempting, in a sense, but there was no way someone like Simon, unable to be the one talking, preferring to listen, could unveil all his story. Still, maybe he could scratch the surface of it.
"You're not always that bad I guess. Just, keep this one to yourself, please?"
After all we are living together.
Plus, I think this has nothing to do with how it was with my orientation.
I don't see him blurting this out.
That'd be beyond low.
Plus, that silence, I think, no, I know he has some issues to.
With a with a sigh he looked up to the ceiling. He could possibly start a little, but doing so AND keeping eye contact at the same time, that would be asking too much.
"It's a long story I guess. But I won't get into it really. Basically, when I was just nine, Kevin, who was like sixteen at the time, had some rough time. I was to young to get it, but last thing I knew, we were at his funeral. Things sorta got...difficult after that, you know. I guess I've been trying to fill his shoes. But that's the beauty about being dead, you always appear to be that much greater. I mean just looking around, the most successful people got the majority of their success after they died. Just been rough, that's all."
It wasn't much of a confession, but it would take a lot more for him to open up, a lot more. Even his best friend back home, his family, didn't know most of the things about him.
But at least that was over, the big picture if you want, in a sense. Of course nothing really was that easy or simple, but it was a start. Now came the easier part, and just tilted his head enough to get a good view of Haylen, a few ginger locks resting near his eyes.
"What's your story? You always get mad so easily and say you hate people. Why is that?"
I still think most of the people he cared for hurt him.
Defense mechanism. No care, no pain.
But if he doesn't care at all, why the anger?
Haylen felt his throat tighten up as Simon vaguely explained the situation with Kevin, but grew far more nervous when Simon asked him what his story was.
No one had ever asked Haylen about his life before. No one had really cared enough. Hell, Haylen couldn't even think of a single person who he'd known that he had talked to more than once or twice. He had isolated himself. He had no friends. He didn't associate himself with anyone. The only people he could recall were mere acquaintances, and the only secrets he'd ever revealed before weren't really secrets, but slurred, shallow desires.
What am I even supposed to tell him?
How do I start?
I suck at this whole 'people' thing.
"I... I don't really have a story," Haylen blurted, his attention turned to the pillow beneath Simon's head as opposed to Simon himself. "Even if I did, it wouldn't matter."
He caught Simon's eye for a fleeting moment, and saw that those piercing green eyes were full of knowledge, and almost disdain, as though to say, 'I just told you something, now it's your turn. And I know you do have a story.'
Haylen shifted on his bed, propping himself up onto one elbow. He stared blankly at the sheets beneath him, chewing at the inside of his lip and thinking of how he could even begin.
He wouldn't want to know, anyway.
And I don't want him to know. I don't want to share.
It's mine. Mine, mine, mine. He can't have any.
With a shudder and an airy sigh, Haylen spoke up. "I... I don't know what to tell you," he murmured, pausing to make sure that he could still hear his own dull heartbeat. His hesitancy to share anything with Simon was wreaking havoc on the beating organ beneath his ribcage.
I wish I could just lie.
I wish I could just make something up.
I could make my life into a friggin' fairytale.
How grand would that be.
It could be called 'the boy who cried wolf, and wasn't lying, but no one was there to give a shit.'
Haylen felt like he needed a script. He had no filter. If he began speaking, he wouldn't be able to cut things out or sugar coat it. He needed a paper to read from.
My name is Haylen Vega, and I am a waste of oxygen. My mom has volunteered a death wish for me, her boyfriend beats me every night, and my real father has been in jail since the day before my thirteenth birthday. The end.
"I... I can't. Think of a way to explain," Haylen sputtered, his mouth dry and his eyes a little wetter than usual. "I.. don't want to tell you anything."
In a person there was more to understand than just words, and Simon knew that. There was no inkling of deception or frustration for being the only one to say something. Heck, in any other circumstances he wouldn't have said anything himself, simply lied that everything was just fine, or simply blame it on the stress of his 'coming out of the closet' thing. He understood why Haylen couldn't speak any part of his story, like it was stuck, well lodge behind that growing ball clogging the throat canal. That ball that makes it hard to swallow and breathe just by thinking of the story stuck behind it. He didn't actually need to know, not if main character of that story wasn't ready to tell his tale.
Shifting himself up on his elbows he gave Haylen a warm comforting smile, his eyes softer than they'd ever been in a very long while, looking at the boy's newly wet eyes.
"It's alright." he whispered.
Standing, he casually walked to the bathroom, not bothering with the light and grabbed a cloth which he rinsed under temperate water before returning to the room. With the strain of his inner battle, Haylen's nose had started to bleed again a little, but he didn't even seem to notice this thing about his own body, possibly to concentrated on the events inside to acknowledge those outside.
Carefully, Simon made his way to Haylen's bed, sitting so that he was close enough to his face, studying the features with a warm barely visible smile on. It was one of those face you see new parents wear when they show care to their new one. Simon had often been like that, happy to care for people, a sense he'd develop by trying to please everyone. It was no burden though, for he always received that sense of purpose from it, feeling useful and appreciated. He didn't need popularity from it, didn't request anything in returned. It was his use, and being useless was his worse fear, surely why he felt such despair when he thought he couldn't love another ever. He wanted to know he could be useful to at least one person until the end of his time here on earth.
"Hold on, you're bleeding." he softly whispered, sliding a free hand behind Haylen's neck before gently cleaning out the loose blood with the warm wet cloth, talking a little all the while, just to make sure he wouldn't feel awkward receiving this treatment, something else to focus on.
"You know, you don't have to tell me your story if you can't. It's fine. Some things I guess are better left unsaid. I know it sounds all corny and stuff but it's still true."
Haylen was in utter disbelief. He'd expected for Simon to react badly to his refusal to speak, and instead, the boy was suddenly perched on the edge of Haylen's mattress, wiping gently at his bleeding nose with a warm cloth and telling him it was alright if he didn't want to share.
What...
Something beneath Haylen's chest suddenly began to feel warm, and a pleasant tingling danced up his spine. Being cared for... being cared about... it was so new to him, and it was so strange.
Sitting up, he gazed at Simon through tendrils of his dark hair and sighed as the redhead tended to his bloody nose. "Simon... Sy," he exhaled, unable to manage much else. "You don't have to do this... I'll clean it myself."
I'm a jerk.
I should just let him do his thing. Just because I'm not used to this doesn't mean I can't accept it.
Yeah, I'm pretty solid, but I'm not invincible.
He wrapped his cold fingers around Simon's wrist, contemplating tugging it away, but instead changed his mind and moved his hand to brush against Simon's smooth cheek, then falling to rest in his lap. "I... I guess I should. You know. Tell you stuff."
He clenched his jaw, playing with the inner studs of his liprings with his tongue. He was still completely uncertain about confiding in someone.
I have major trust issues.
I can't just... tell him things.
What if he tells other people? What if he makes fun of me for it?
...Judging by how he's acting now, and by what's happened to him, he probably won't make fun of me for it.
But I don't know! This kid is unpredictable!
Haylen knew deep down that it would feel at least a little bit better if he could talk a little bit about his internal conflicts due to the happenings back at home, but he was truly torn. If he told, he wouldn't be the only one to know, and part of his safe little outer shell of secrecy would be broken. But if he didn't tell, he didn't know how long he could last in boarding school - surrounded by other people - before he'd shatter and announce his problems to the entire school in a fit of insanity.
I'll tell.
Not everything, but something, at least.
Just... one step at a time.
Taking a quivering breath, Haylen cleared his throat, trying to plan out his little speech. "I... I haven't told anyone this, you know... I haven't had anyone to tell, and honestly, I don't know if I would have spoken up about it even if I did. But uh, I don't know... I feel like I can..."
Trust?
Confide?
Relate?
"...I feel like I can.. I dunno. I just feel like you're the right person to tell. God, I feel pathetic." Haylen turned his head slightly, looking away. "My mom... she's just - I can't even explain. She's possibly the worst human being I know. Everything is wrong with her, and she'd be far happier with me if I were laying beneath the dirt. And then there's my dad, who's been in jail for five or so years now. He was kind of the only one who had ever been there for me, so... that wasn't a good time. And then..."
...Then there's Matt.
Oh god, I can't tell him about Matt!
God damn, I can't tell him... I almost want to tell him, but I can't...
On impulse, Haylen tugged down his jeans just enough to reveal a large purple bruise that covered the better half of his upper left thigh. He could feel his forehead breaking out in a cold sweat, and his words were caught in his dehydrated throat. "A-and this... I thought you were gonna see it the other night, but it was dark, and I wasn't really facing you anyway, but I was so worried... it's from.. from someone my mom knows."
I can't even bring myself to say his friggin' name out loud.
What the hell.
Haylen's eyelashes were glued together with salty liquid, and he felt like such a baby. He'd felt more emotional distress in the past few days than he had in a while, and it was beginning to take a toll on his tear ducts. "M'sorry, I don't mean to cry..."
There it is again. A meaningless little 'sorry'.
While he wasn't about to go into detail about Matt, or talk about how much his mom actually hated him, or the many, many other details that he feared almost too much to discuss with himself, Haylen felt that what he'd said was enough for now, and desperately hoped that Simon would understand.
There was no jolt or surprise when Haylen brought his hand to Simon's wrist, stopping him. What was more surprising, was that he didn't even have to speak a word before the boy let go and accepted the act of being tended to. The blood having stopped it's dripping, Haylen placed his head comfortably on Simon's lap. That beautiful and tormented person, frail and seeming somewhat helpless in this situation. It was appealing Sy, drawing him closer, making him want to touch him, and there was no surge or request from his inners to deny this. Putting down the cloth on the ground, he brought a stable hand to his hair, playing in the chocolate satin bristles while listening attentively to Haylen, judgement free.
It was a short and skimmed story, much like his own, but he could understand, to a point. He knew what it was to not be accepted the way you truly were, and in a sense, he admired him for being himself even through this rough patch. The story seemed to reach to an end when he saw Haylen's hand move down, pulling his jeans down, revealing a gruesome bruise only beginning to yellow. With deeply furrowed brows, he stared at the pool of mis-colored skin, brining his free hand to gently graze the surface of the injury.
Whoa.
That's pretty recent.
"No, I hadn't noticed..." he breathed out, barely audible.
The sound of uneven breathing a slight tremble reverberating on his lap brought his attention back on Haylen, the boy crying. As much as he liked to care for people, he wasn't all that used to seeing another guy cry, though he saw nothing shameful or misplaced about it. Unsure, he kept one hand in his hair and began to rub his arm, feeling rather powerless in front of this distress.
"Don't apologize, there's nothing wrong with crying. You've been through a rough patch. At least here this can't happen anymore right?"
Something warm crept along Simon inside, a dash of something with large quantities of worry. Something inside him made him want to protect Haylen, and it was strange, wishing this after all Haylen had put him through during this very day.
Maybe it was just a rough start.
Somehow, after today is over, I'm not completely sure the rough part is all over.
But I guess for now we can put this aside.
Haylen hadn't felt anything but hatred towards the entire idea of boarding school since the moment he'd stepped through the door, but right now, he couldn't think of a time when he'd been more grateful to be with another person. Talking to someone in meaningful words as opposed to either sensual whispers or sorrowful whimpers was an entirely new concept to him, and it was a little hard to grasp, but it was something he'd be able to get used to.
He considered what Sy had said. "Don't apologize, there's nothing wrong with crying. You've been through a rough patch. At least here this can't happen anymore right?"
"Yeah, it's just... I don't know."
I'm not gonna tell him about the nightmares.
I'm not gonna tell him how bad my mom and Matt have affected me.
I'm not gonna tell him that some of the only things I think about include things my mom has said to me and injuries Matt has left me with. I'm not gonna tell him how badly I wish I could talk to my dad again.
I'm just gonna go with his theory for once and remember that here, there's no Matt. There's no Mom. Nothing to worry about. Right?
He rubbed at his eyes with his scarred palms, though by now he was feeling moderately okay, and most of his tears had dried up. Sitting up briefly, he rearranged himself so that he faced Simon, and then pulled the other boy down to lay on the mattress. He scooted forward, nuzzling his face against Simon's broad chest. He felt so warm and secure, so comfortable and at ease, and yet he couldn't stop thinking about how strange it all was.
"Thanks for everything," he voiced quietly, sniffling a bit. He felt exposed and vulnerable, raw emotion shining in his eyes. He wasn't entirely happy with himself for cracking in front of Simon, but it was bound to happen.
Now I know what people mean when they talk about having a rollercoaster of a day, holy shit.
I'm used to a steady downhill.
Snuggling closer to Simon, Haylen entwined his jean-clad legs with the other boy's and slung one arm over his side in a half-hug. He wanted to blame his sudden softness and willingness to be anything other than cold towards another person on his drowsy state, but he knew that his odd mood was due to the fact that Simon had begun to chip at his icy surface.
I freaking hate cuddling.
I never cuddle. Hell, I used to kick those other damn boys out of my bed.
What am I doing.
"Mmnh, m'so tired," Haylen slurred groggily, letting his bruised eyelids drift shut. "I don't even think it's that late..."
Today was the weirdest day of my life.
I go from hating this kid with every fiber of my being to hopelessly pressing my face into the crook of his neck.
Maybe he's tolerable.
I mean, as of these past couple moments, he's been way nicer to me than anyone else I've ever known.
I guess we'll just have to see how everything goes tomorrow. We won't be able to ignore our conflicts forever.
But for now... maybe things will be okay. Just for tonight.
With the hints of a genuine smile on his chapped lips, Haylen faded into slumber, sleeping cozily against Simon.
Sy let Haylen pull him down besides him, but felt a little bit like an elephant in a porcelaine store cuddling to a guy. Even if he now knew what he was, it didn't mean everything about it instantly felt natural. Still, something about this was comfortable, sharing a bed. The warmth and the company.
"Mmnh, m'so tired, I don't even think it's that late..."
"It's not very late...just been a long day." he trailed with his own sleepy voice.
Haylen partially placed himself over Simon in a fashion where he could feel his heartbeat thumping against his side. It was kind of....nice. He wrapped his arms around him before leaning his chin, comfortably snuggled withing Haylen's mass of hair before drifting off in a deep dreamless sleep.
The next morning, the sun was what woke Simon up, rubbing his only opened eye to better see the time on his alarm clock. He had plenty of time still and nothing to worry about. A little disoriented, he glanced down when something soft tickled the side of his cheek and found Haylen, sound asleep on his chest. A serene smile decorated Sy' lips while he watched the boy sleep for a little, memories of the previous evening flowing into his waking mind.
They hadn't really budged from the time they'd fallen asleep to this exact moment, which was a rare thing for Simon. Normally, he woke up to a rather chaotic scene of blanket knots, scrambling for a pillow that he sometime found in illogical places. But not this night, this was just calm, and he found himself fully rested, the exhaustion he had felt completely evaporated.
That really feels awesome.
Hmmmm, he's really adorable like that.
He watched Haylen sleep a little longer, lingering on the details of his face, only now seeing things he hadn't noticed before. How perfectly square his jaw is, the thickness of his eye lashes or the blended freckles on his cheeks, the little scar near his lips made him want to just, touch it a little bit. His lips...even asleep they were spelling out an invitation.
What first started as a simple studying of Haylen grew into something more....lust filled. His body quickly burning up, he found himself unable to let him sleep any longer.
I am a morning person after all.
Running a hand through the boy's hair, he lowered his head close to his and whispered in a semi-cheery voice.
"Haylen. Haylen wake up. It's morning.."
The boy stiring against him, he carefully rolled to his side until they were face to face, his more awake eyes deviously looking to Haylen, finding their way until he was looking at his lips before kissing them a little with a light moan, wrapping his arm against his waist, pulling him close until both their shirts were firmly pressed to one another.
After the little kiss he leaned his forehead to Haylen's, looking him in the eyes.
"Well hello." he breathed, his body squirming a little in eagerness.
I can get used to this kind of waking up.
Mmmmnmmm. Waiting is agonising.
Haylen couldn't remember a previous time - ever - that he'd been awoken by a kiss and a body pressed frantically against his, but damn, he loved it.
"Hey, mmnh," he murmured groggily, peering at Simon with a heavily-lidded gaze. He jutted his chin forward and flicked his tongue out to taste at the inside of Simon's parted lips, slipping his hands beneath the other boy's shirt. "You're.. you're so warm, and you taste like morning... it's kind of really sexy." His speech was slow and seductive, thickened by sleep and tranquilized with early-morning exhaustion.
I could deal with this.
I could definitely deal with this.
Haylen decided to take advantage of the fact that not only was Simon lacking in experience, but in this case, also still waking up and not as fast to react. He rolled the redhead onto his back, climbing on top of him to sit on his hips, thighs slung on either side. "You know, you disgust me a little," Haylen chuckled, his voice laden with sarcasm. "The way I can just guide you along... you're like my little pet. My pretty, pretty little pet."
How do I even have the energy for this right now? Pouncing on someone first thing in the morning is not part of my usual wake-up routine.
He bent forward, their stomachs pressing together. Haylen's lips attached to Simon's neck like a leech to naked skin, provoking a synonymous moan from the both of them. He suckled all down Sy's throat, watching as reddish-purple blotches already began to form on his honey complexion. "The way you've been acting as of late has been making it really hard to hate you," Haylen mused, pulling at the neckline of Simon's shirt to nip at the fragile skin that was stretched over his collarbone.
Looks like emotional, broken little Haylen has gone back into hiding.
Thank god.
He skillfully maneuvered Simon's shirt over his head, soon stripping himself of his own and hoping that Simon wouldn't take new notice of the connect-the-dot bruises that lined his ribcage. With a dark laugh, he took the boy's bottom lip between his teeth, gently sucking at the wet flesh. He then sat up and rolled his spine, every bone from his shoulderblades to his hipbones cracking. His movement made his torso twist and flex in a rather desirable way, and he watched Simon's face as it was seized by an expression of bliss.
"You may be decent at silent treatments, but now I know an easy way to break them," Haylen said as he kissed along Simon's jaw, biting playfully at his earlobe. His voice lowered to a barely-audible whisper as he muttered dirty things into the shell of Sy's ear. "I could teach you a new game. I like to call it the loud treatment. I'm sure you'd be excellent..."
I need to stop.
This isn't doing anything but feeding my constant craving - my addiction - towards mindless physical contact.
"...but perhaps we'll try that one a different day. For now, we'll be good boys."
He must think I'm the walking personification of every mother's nightmare.
I'm pretty sure that would be accurate, though.
Haylen picked up Simon's hand and kissed his smooth palm, lazily trailing his lips up and down the boy's limber fingers. He planted more kisses on each fingertip, grinning ever so slightly as he did so.
I might just become a morning person, after all.
Everything in this situation was devious and mischievous. No girls aloud in the dorms... the rules skipped in Simon minds, making him chuckle inwardly as he watched Haylen overlap him, making it a very, very pointless a rule.
"You know, you disgust me a little, the way I can just guide you along... you're like my little pet. My pretty, pretty little pet."
Simon just nodded, perplexed, but it wasn't a surprise anymore to hear this type of talk from Haylen, it was just his version of normal.
This kid has some strange way to dirty talk.
He didn't put up any kind of fight when Haylen leaned over to relieve him of his shirt before taking of his own, revealing a new set of bruises on his rib cage. Sadly for Simon's compassion side, the emotional hormones of his body were fully overran by the large amount of pheromones coursing through him. Thus, instead of noting them out loud, he opt for running two clenched hands up Haylen's jeans covered thighs, groaning in satisfaction and heated anticipation.
"Good boys?" he asked, knowing there was no serious in Haylen's statement.
Everything seemed to be a game to this guy, but right now, Simon was more than willing to play along. He pushed himself up and wrapped his arms around Haylen's bare chest, kissing the tanned skin, trailing over the muscles of his abdomen. Well, if he wanted a game....
Simon's hand broke free of Haylen's and he grabbed both his wrists, holding them in an iron grip before trailing up to his collar bone and neck line, all the way up to his ear lobe, whispering.
"Well if you want to play the good boy game, then I guess you'll just have to be quiet. But it might not be easy..." he chuckled a little.
Hours later, a sweaty Simon had rushed himself to the bathroom for a quick shower. The neighbors had successfully remained undisturbed but more time had gone by than he'd expected, and he this time, he really didn't want to be late for English class, not after the events of the previous day. It was a quick in and out cold shower and he was out, making to leave enough time for Haylen to get his own bathroom time before leaving for class. He got out of the bathroom, a towel around his waist, his wet hair a little all over the place.
"All yours."
Other than that, Simon realized there was nothing he could say. This little morning activity was something easy to deal with, but what about everything after?
Hmmm... I didn't think of that.
That might be weird.
Haylen gave Simon a quick once over and
nodding knowingly as he informed him of the newly-empty bathroom. "Yeah. I'll
be late for english, but I don't care."
As Haylen closed the bathroom door behind him and stripped off his boxers, he
could hear Simon finish getting dressed and ready and leave the dorm to go to
the English/Creativ e Writing room. As soon as he heard Sy's footsteps
fading far into the hallway, he turned on the shower faucet and slumped
wearily against the tiled wall, sinking to the bottom of the tub.
"What am I even doing," he wondered out loud, burying his face in his
hands as lukewarm water pelted his entire body.
First I get into a fight with him, then I tell him stuff that I never
should've told anyone, then I fall asleep snuggled next to him, and when I
wake up in the morning, I get too caught up in my own selfish lust to care
about anything else at all.
Something is very wrong with me.
Haylen shivered as the water ran cold, frigid liquid coating his torso and
legs in a slick sheen. He could barely muster the willpower to stand and wash
off, and once he did, he finished up as quickly as possible and darted from
the bathroom with his grey towel wrapped loosely around his waist.
He got dressed in record time - his favorite black v-neck and pale jeans - and
flung himself down onto his bed, procrastinating on going to english class.
"God, you're the only one who knows what's gonna happen from here on out,"
Haylen shouted tauntingly, staring at the ceiling. He'd never been big on
religion, but in times of desperation, he named his insanity after a higher
power so that it could seem like he was simply praying as opposed to talking
to himself. Call it offensive, but that's how Haylen dealt. "Care to inform
me?"
Silence.
Haylen laughed.
"Hah, just what I expected. First you gift me with some whackjob mom who will
literally be the death of me, then you bring along Matt, and now you won't
even give me any hint at all as to how things will work out with Simon?
Why am I even talking to you?" Haylen glanced at the large bruise on his
thigh, noticing that it was in the hideous purpley-yellow stage of healing. "I
have no idea what I'm gonna do about Simon."
Silent treatment?
Hahhh. You're so amusing.
As opposed to giving himself more time to worry and ponder, Haylen picked
himself up and made his way to the
English/Creative Writing classroom.
