August 24th- Book One in the May 3rd series

Chapter 54- SWEET TEA AND CHOCOLATE MILK BROS

Warnings ⚠: Child Abuse, Rape, Violence, Religion, Drug Use, Alcohol Use, Use of Slurs, Homophobia, Bullying, Mention of Suicide, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicidal Actions, Gun Use.

Josiah's P.O.V.

-Sunday, November 7th-

I didn't sleep at all. Not surprising, but I still hope Damien got some rest. He seems to have been getting less and less sleep ever since we met.

Another sign that I'm stressing him out.

Me, and all the other shit that's going on in his life.

My phone went off with a text about an hour ago, but I haven't checked it.

I pick up my phone and turn it on, bringing it close to my face to read the sender's name.

From Pierre...?

Pierre: Did Damien get home safely?

Did he...what?

Was he not home?

I look out the window, finding that it is officially light outside. That means I can get up and see if Damien is awake yet.

And apparently check if he's even here at all.

I have to. Considering I can't go anywhere or do anything without him...

I run my hand along the wall as I go to the door and open it, jumping back immediately.

Damien is standing there, hand up like he was about to knock on the door.

He takes in a little surprised gasp, and it's the cutest thing I've heard all week.

"What are you doing?" I chuckle.

He holds out a Pop-Tart.

"Pop-Tart." He says simply.

"I'm not hungry." I tell him as I take it and immediately bite into it.

Delicious...sugar...

Yum.

"You seem hungry." He remarks.

I acknowledge to myself that I didn't eat anything yesterday. Oh, well. Definitely isn't the first time I've done that.

"I'm definitely not. Are we doing anything today?"

I try to forget about yesterday altogether. It was just an awful day and nothing good came from it.

He rubs his eyes and then sticks his hands in his pockets. "Do you want to maybe...go get lunch? Like a date? Like...a date date?"

"...Out to a real place? With real food?" I hesitate.

"Yeah." He replies.

"Umm... Sure. When?" I munch on the Pop-Tart, eyes going back and forth from the floor to his face repeatedly.

I hate it when people look at me.

It's just the feeling of eyes burning into my soul and the fact that anyone sees me at all. It's worse when I can somewhat see them and I know for a fact they're staring.

He smiles widely. "I don't know. Like 12-ish?"

I push my hair out of my eyes and look out the window as I finish my breakfast.

"Sounds good. I'm going to finish some homework then get ready to go." I yawn and go to my backpack.

He doesn't leave the doorway. He is still watching me.