the bonus book | ✓

your back beneath the sun

I am staring at the white of my ceiling like I usually do. I will like my head to be empty and open like that white space but there are these constant chatter that just won't stop, no matter how hard I try. I close my eyes and try to breathe in and out, count as I do. But they won't stop, the voices. Inside my head, it is so loud, so loud.

God, I want peace and calm and to fall asleep like the exhausted person I am, instead of breathing in and out in exhausted gasps and trying my hardest to calm myself.

I give up.

Sometimes I want to cry just for the sheer torture of it all. How could my brain, the one that was supposed to help me, my own body part, instigate such torture on me? It's honestly harrowing.

I look out the window, the windy night, the leaves of the tree rustling. I climb out of the window and sit on the roof, trying to feel the wind on my skin. I wrap my arms around myself, trying to hold myself together.

Then I remember I am not alone anymore.

There is somebody who can hold me together if I just tell him to. If only I say the words, he will be running in here for me, climbing to the roof and wrapping his strong arms around me and pull me to his chest, all the while keeping a straight, emotionless face.

The thought of that makes my throat felt heavy. Sometimes I love him so much my heart aches.

I swallow and climb down the pipe. I reach the ground and duck until I reach the front gate. I think he is sleeping by now. He will be so angry at me for walking alone at night. I am afraid a little bit, concerned for my safety, but the thought of his seeing his face, even him glaring at me, the frown on his lips, makes me feel soft and a little bit giddy.

I will be alright as soon as I see his face. I just know it.

I thank my lucky stars every single day, every single day for bringing Oliver Carlson to my life.

I walk all the way to Carlson house. I know they keep a spare key in the flower tub. I stick my hand into it and find it instantly. I open the lock, get inside and lock the door behind me.

The living room is dark and quiet. I walk forward and slam into something.

It screams.

A girly scream.

I roll my eyes.

“What the actual fu-” Owen jumps almost to the roof. “Who-”

“It's Gwen,” I say, “Can't you turn on the light instead of walking around in dark?”

“Can't you not sneak into my house like a thief?”

I grumble, “Shut up.”

Owen opens the fridge door. The soft light washes down the kitchen and he reaches for a pizza box. It makes my stomach rumble as soon as I see it.

Owen turns around and raises an eyebrow.

“No, thanks,” I say.

Owen laughs out, “As if I was ever going to offer.”

“Wow, you're rude,” I say, “You used to be so nice.”

He keeps chuckling as he puts the pizza box on the counter.

“I gather you're here to sneak into your boyfriend's room, so do that kiddo and leave me alone with my pizza.”

I scrunch my nose, give him a glare and leave.

Something more delicious than pizza waits upstairs anyways.

As I stand outside, I hesitate a little. He must be sleeping. He's not someone who leaves his room and eats pizza midnight.

Sometimes I think Owen was my brother instead of his, because that's totally something I will do.

I push the door open. He's on his bed, sleeping on his stomach. The comforter around his waist. His blonde hair is haphazardly around the pillows, looking soft and inviting.

I sigh.

Why is he so perfect?

I walk to his bed. I get rid of my hoodie and the big pants I put on before taking the walk. I slowly slip under the comforter in my loose tee and those big shorts I buy from men's section, into his large bed. He sleeps at one side of it, as if intentionally leaving space for someone on the other side.

That someone may be me.

The thought alone makes my heart beat in my throat.

I turn towards him and appreciate the smooth expanse of his back, from his neck to his waist. He's shirtless back should be something worshipped, with my hands preferably. I didn't even know backs could turn me on. I stare the two dimples and want to touch them. I have seen him without a shirt a few times, every time I love it more than the previous time.

This is what luxury may feel like, being able to stare at Oliver's back in the dark.

I can write an essay about this.

I breathe in and out and realize my head has gone quiet. I am so calm and comfy. It's the best feeling in the world.

****

Someone is rubbing their nose in my neck. I think.

I mumble and try to turn around. But I'm being spooned. I feel solid weight behind my back, arms around my waist and a leg over my thighs.

I smile.

“When did you come in?” His morning voice press into my neck.

I giggle involuntarily. Oliver pinches my stomach. I cry out.

“Ow!” I slap his hands. He laughs into my shoulder.

“Sometimes around midnight. Please don't scold me,” I say as I turn around to behold the sight of his face in soft morning light.

As soon as I do, I think my heart bursts.

I grab his face and press my lips on to his, quieting whatever he is planning to say.

“I met Owen downstairs. He screamed when he bumped into me. Then he was having midnight snack, rummaging the fridge like a raccoon.

Oliver rolls his eyes. I think of licking his Adam's apple. It seems like a good idea.

“Well, there's no use scolding you anyways,” Oliver says, in a tone, as if he already gave up and pulls me into him tighter.

I sigh into his neck and wrap my arms around him. It's Sunday. We don't need to get out of his bed.

“Are you alright though?” He says into my hair.

“I've never been better,” I tell him, pulling his soft hair.

****

A/N: I just wanted to write about Oliver's back. I thought you might appreciate it lol.

I'm home from college and wanted to write. And the only thing I'm good for, is writing Oliver Gwen scenes. It's been three years and I still can't leave them alone.

I was thinking about writing a Prom scene. Although don't get excited or anything cause I might not.

I also wrote some *ahem* well mature scenes cause Gosh, y'all are loud screaming robbed. One of them is kinda literary, metaphorical, and kinda good idk. Another one is well, ahem, well, how do I say, it's very DESCRIPTIVE. and there's no way I'll let you read it, hehehehe.

It's the office scene by the way, you know the one in the epilogue.

Bye.