Elliot ditched his jock reputation after high school. He happily traded his cleats and shoulder pads for college cafeteria food and seminars notes. Now, without the distraction of football, he has managed to find success at the University of Minneso...
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Being in Pierce's childhood bedroom felt oddly comfortable, like using a favorite blanket on a breezy summer night - appreciated, but not expected. Although Elliot hadn't known him when he was the clumsy boy from Groony Grove Middle School, the tiny twin bed with the banged-up headboard, the hand-me-down dresser his mom had bought at a yard sale, the faded flannel curtains and the dents in the wooden floor had made the entire room a thumbprint. It was undeniably Pierce's whole identity - homey, disorganized, and warm.
And very ironic - how they were sharing a room again.
Elliot shuffled his suitcase to the closest corner, avoiding a three-foot stack of outdated phonebooks. Above, the light fixture was dusty and yellow. The dimness made the space seem stuffy and small compare to the wide expanse of night outside. Elliot almost craved the chill from the snow storm.
"Thank you," Pierce spoke. He propped himself against the short, slanted ceiling. There was a discolored patch of worn-away paint under his shoulder. The stance must've been a nervous habit.
"For what?"
"For being here," Pierce replied. "For being you."
"Neither of those things are voluntary."
The corner of Pierce's mouth jumped. He gazed at Elliot with his usual allure, stretching an arm outward to pull their bodies together. His touch was tired, since his hands had become lethargic from the long drive.
