Disclaimer: I own nothing, except the plot.
"Hey," someone whispers.
I sigh, knowing it's from him. I hear the plea in his voice as usual. It's unmistakable. I ignore him, however. I just continue to stare at the wall, like I would if this was any other night.
I was surprised that he had shown this sensitive side of himself, though. Especially to me.
It happened a few years ago when we first became roommates. At first sight, I knew we weren't going to be friends. That smile he always had scared me; hell, it still does today.
It was around two am. Very late, yet I laid awake in bed. I had used this time to think, since my day was full with him bullying me. I heard him whisper my name. I shot up in bed, looking around. Why did he call my name? Was it only a dream of him beating me, again?
It was none of these. Almost as soon as I sat up, he followed. I held my breath as I turned my head to stare at him. He stared back, the usual mischievous gleam in his brown eyes gone. It was replaced with a tint of fear. I furrowed my eyebrows and kept quiet.
He muttered something again; I heard his voice crack. I frowned, feeling sorry for him. I heard him slide off the bed, and his knees banging against the hard wood. I cringed, but kept silent. I knew this must be some type of prank. I didn't want to give him my trust this quickly.
I heard him moan and fall to his side, holding himself. I turned my head to look at him. He looked so… broken on the floor. He looked so different than his normal, malevolent self. I bit my lip and scooted closer to the edge of the bed. I placed my feet flat on the floor and stared at him.
I fell down to my hands and knees and started to crawl over to him. I stared at him once I got close enough. "Hey," I whispered, "what's wrong?"
He groaned and rolled over so he could be facing me. His brown eyes looked over me, overcoming me with sadness and sympathy. "Everything's wrong. I can't do anything right." He let out a sigh and closed his eyes.
I frowned. I didn't know what to say. I hadn't known him that long, and I didn't really make an attempt to get to know the guy. I bit my lip and reached out a hand, placing it on his shoulder. I patted it. "No… you can do stuff…" I bit my lip again. Jeez, I couldn't help anybody. I quickly thought of something. "What can I do for you?"
He looked up at me, eyes wide. "Hold me."
I froze. I didn't really know how to respond. I didn't even know him that well, and he expected me to hold him. I furrowed my eyebrows and looked down at him. He had started to shake. "Oh, alright," I mumbled.
I grabbed his shoulders and pulled him towards in between my legs. My arm, still around his waist, I looked at him. He looked back at me, a sick tint to his face. He wrapped one of his arms around my neck and made himself comfortable.
He pressed his cheek to my shoulder and slowly closed his eyes. I stared at him. He licked his lips and let out a moan. "Thank you," he mumbled, soon drifting off.
I didn't know what I was being thanked for…
But, here we both are again; a few years later, and our encounters are different.
He mutters my name. I hear him turn over in bed so he could be staring at me. I try and keep my gaze on the ceiling. He whimpers and curls up into a ball, holding his knees. I sighed, realizing that it's useless.
I slowly slide out of bed, my knees hitting the floor. I curse—a thing I rarely do—and slowly get up. I stumble in the dark, trying to find the edge of his bed. I reach out a hand, feeling fabric brush against my fingertips. I slowly crawl onto the bed and over to him. I hover about him, hearing him whisper to himself.
"Gary."
He turns over and looks at me. "Femme-boy," he weakly says.
We stare at each other for a few seconds before I make a move. I place a hand on the back of his head, lifting it up. He stares at me, keeping quiet. I know what he wants. I dip my head down and slowly press my lips against him. We kiss for awhile, our lips moving slowly against each others. After a few more kisses, he pulls away from me. He mutters, "Thank you."
