Be My Forever

x | what happened that night.

Maybe I'm way more traumatized than I thought from the fire because when I wake up to a noise in the middle of the night, I'm halfway out of bed and to the door before I realize it's coming from my window.

It takes me a moment to actually calm down, my heart racing. Then squinting, I stare at my dark room.

The sound that woke me up is a persistent knocking from my window.

Oh my Gosh. Warren!

Biting my lip, I go over and push back the curtain. I can barely see him through the window, but it's definitely him standing out there. I unlock the door, slide it up, and pretty much regret my decision to ever help him.

It takes him a moment to focus on me, then he lifts his left hand and points a half empty bottle in my face.

"Finally!" He says way too loud, making me wince a little.

"Warren, hush!" I hiss at him, "Are you drunk? You stink." I can smell the alcohol on him, not to mention the bottle he has. I carefully remove it from his hand, he's been swinging it around haphazardly, and sniff the liquid. I make a face and put the bottle out of the way so he can't find it.

"I-I'm not drunk." He mumbles, "Been waiting hours for ya." I roll my eyes, I doubt that. I'm not the lightest sleeper but I'm not a deep sleeper either.

"Get in here." I say with a sigh, stepping back so he can get into my window.

It takes him all of three seconds before he just falls into my room rather than climb. He sorely miscalculates the amount of force it takes because instead of falling right into my room, he practically launches himself onto me.

I go down with an oof, my breath knocked out of me for a moment, then realize that it's Warren's weight keeping me from actually breathing.

"Warren," I wheeze, "I need to breathe."

He pushes himself up with some struggle and I suck in a breath. He frowns down at me.

"Who put you down there?" He asks.

I roll my eyes, trying to ignore how close he is to me, "You did. Can you get up please?"

He's really heavy and completely on top of me and I'm in my pajamas. Not a good mix.

Instead of getting up, he just puts himself down on his elbows, making us closer than before. He sort of just stares at me.

"Warren?" I don't like the way he's looking at me. Even though I know he's drunk, the intensity in his eyes gives me a feeling that he's clearheaded.

"I hate you, you know."

It's such a sudden sting that I suck in a sharp breath. I know I'm not exactly his favorite person, but I guess his dislike for me is a lot deeper than I thought.

"Yeah, you're not my favorite either." I mumble, avoiding his eyes because I know it's a lie and I think he knows it too.

"That's not true." He states, voicing my thoughts, "And we both know it."

I swallow hard, the air around us changing in a way I don't know, and keep avoiding his eyes.

"Can you get off me please?" I ask again, my voice thicker than before. I don't want to start crying in front of him.

He pauses for a long moment, almost like he doesn't want to get up, and I get impatient. I start pushing him off me, palms on his chest. I can feel his heart beating beneath my hand.

Could it be that his heart is pounding as fast as mine?

I shove away that thought as he finally rolls off me. I push myself up immediately, creating much needed space between us.

He pulls himself up, very unsteady on his feet, and half stumbles over to my messy bed.

"Wait-!" It's too late, he already falls onto my bed before I can stop him.

If there's one thing I know about drunks, it's that it is pretty much impossible to move them once they're asleep. I groan.

"Warren, move." I hiss, pushing him to the other side of the bed. I am not sleeping in the floor, I don't care if I have to share a bed with him. It should be him on the floor but I can tell he's already half asleep.

"Just don't throw up in my bed." I say crankily to him, curling up in my comforter so I don't have to touch him at all.

I stare at my dark wall and sigh. I'm not sure how I'll sleep with him right there next to me, but when I close my eyes for a moment, I feel the hit tear roll down.

I hate that he's right, even when he's drunk. No matter how much I try to deny it, there's a still a part of me that wants him.

I know it's stupid, but when I first realized I liked him, it was because he was kind.

Freshman year near the beginning of the school year, I was sitting out under a tree in the commons during lunch, minding my own business. Warren sat alone across the way and at that time, I knew his name but that was it. He was just another rich kid to me. We both watched a poor kid get beat up by a pack of pretensions jerks with nothing better to do. It was a common occurrence at our school, still is.

Warren didn't have to do anything. Everyone knows who he is at school, people leave him alone. But I watched him get up from his spot, wait until the pack was gone, then went over to the kid. He helped him get up, gave him a napkin to wipe off the blood from the kid's bloody nose, and helped him into the building to the nurse office.

After that, I watched Warren closer. It was odd because he was always surrounded by the worst people, but he wasn't a bad person. He was quietly kind, offering a pen, lending his gym uniform to someone, I saw a lot of it.

I believe he's still a good person, I've seen too much of his kindness to not to, but I saw him differently after our little episode. He might've been kind, but he's also arrogant and sometimes snobbish and sometimes his kindness is just a way for him to be noticed.

I close my eyes, shaking away my thoughts, and hope I fall asleep soon. Warren has started to snore next to me, which means he is completely out now.

Somehow, I manage to fall asleep.