𝓜𝓲𝓰𝓱𝓽𝔂 𝓓𝓾𝓬𝓴𝓼 𝓘𝓶𝓪𝓰𝓲𝓷𝓮𝓼

Charlie Conway

My eyes fluttered open slowly when light emitted toward me suddenly and I groaned quietly, lifting my arm out below the covers to tug it back over my head. As I fixed the blanket just below my chin and lifted my head, my eyes squinted to adjust to my surroundings. The room was dim with the bit of light coming in from the window as the blind had been raised a little. It was the same room as the night before, nothing looked to had changed since then.

Noticing someone walking around the room, I reached my hand back to feel for the boy beside me. My hand finding part of his body to which I didn't know which exact part, and he moved, knee bending as he turned over.  The boy lying with me was still there, so I assumed it was the other occupant to the room. 

Hm, yes, the other occupant to the room.

This wasn't my room and I sure as hell knew that and I had no intentions on staying the night. It wasn't right, yet felt right. So, so right and I didn't quite care in the moment that I was somewhere I wasn't supposed to be. And secondly, well, I could be kicked out of school for it.  The school had strict rules we had to adhere to and I always followed, I wasn't one for breaking them and though I just did, it was by all means an accident. If no one found out, there wasn't a reason for me to worry anyhow.

Inhaling, I lifted my upper body up and dug my elbow into the mattress for support, glancing across the room. My legs stretched out, rubbing against my boyfriend's as the coldness of the untouched sheet felt good on my warm feet. The roommate, whom I knew all too well, was hunched over by the door tying his shoes.

Golden hair flopped over his forehead in a middle part, freshly combed apart with his fingers I assume because it was something he always did. Face held red cheeks from the way he slept on his side, the pillow marking glued to the right side of his face. Collared shirt was neatly pressed the other day from laundry and his jeans suited him quite well, a pair of pants he never usually wore. I always told him he looked good in jeans but he never listened to me.

He and I held eye contact for a few seconds as he caught me watching him, and it wasn't staring because I didn't gawk over him. "What time is it?" I asked him, yawning.

His head turned as he stood up, facing me with his bag slumming over his shoulder. "Eight forty-five."

Part of me had internally panicked, but the other half of me really did not care as I just wanted to lie back down and sleep. I saw him rub the back of his head. "When'd you get back last night?"

He shrugged. "Eleven...You guys were already passed out."

I nod, looking away, tracing circles in the mattress. "I'm sorry."

He furrowed his brows, turning away from the door briefly. "Are you?" He looked at me. "Last I recall this is my room, too."

"I know." I exhaled, feeling bad. "I wasn't planning on staying."

"So, why did you?" He asked me, he wasn't trying to be mean about it. I know he wasn't and we usually got on terms really well. The two of us kind of had to; we were like best friends. "Well?"

I closed my eyes for a second to ponder, which I shouldn't have needed time to think, but did. Adam was still looking in my direction when I met his stare. "He was having a rough night." 

He gulped, rubbing his neck for a second. "Very valid, Y/N...Did he tell you he broke his stick?"

Shaking my head, I lifted my hand to my chin, biting on my thumb nail quietly. Adam had turned and opened the door, leaving and I sighed to myself, almost wanting to roll my eyes. Lying back against the two pillows I shared, I held my other arm over my stomach once the blanket had been pulled up again.