Silent Worlds || BOYxBOY ✔️

Twenty

Hiii. I barely write authors notes but just wanted to say a quick thank you to people who have read this story, commented on it and have voted for all the chapters. It means so much to me. Please keep commenting so this story gets pushed to more readers. Plus I love reading the comments. I appreciate it all 🥹 Hope you like this next chapter! stay safe!

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Thomas woke with a jolt, his senses on high alert. The grimy bed he was laying on shifted besides him, the mattress dipping slightly as Mathew slid under the covers. Thomas's heart pounded in his chest, a cold sweat breaking out along his skin as the familiar presence settled in beside him. Every muscle in his body tensed, instinctively curling away from Mathew as much as he could without making it obvious.

He squeezed his eyes shut, willing himself to stay calm, to breathe slowly. Mathew couldn't know he was awake. Not now. He had to pretend.

The sheets rustled for a while as Mathew adjusted himself, the heat of his body radiating uncomfortably close to Thomas's back. Thomas's skin crawled at the thought of Mathew lying next to him, his breath catching in his throat. He hated it, the proximity, the memories, the way his stomach churned with disgust and fear. His mind screamed for him to move, to get away, but he forced himself to lie still.

Mathew's breathing was uneven at first, still settling from whatever had brought him into the room. Thomas listened intently, his own breath so shallow it felt like he might suffocate. He could feel the mattress shift slightly as Mathew rolled onto his side, facing him. For a moment, Thomas thought Mathew might touch him, and his body instinctively stiffened, every nerve on edge. But the touch never came.

Minutes passed, each one stretching into an eternity. Slowly, Mathew's breathing began to even out, the soft, rhythmic rise and fall signaling he had drifted into sleep. Thomas waited. He waited until he was sure Mathew was fully asleep, his own breath shallow and quiet, fighting the urge to panic.

And then, without another thought, he moved.

Carefully, inch by inch, Thomas slid out from under the covers, the fabric of the sheets whispering against his skin. He winced at every sound, his heart pounding in his chest like a drumbeat. His ribs hurt, his wrists felt awful. But he didn't stop. His feet touched the cold floor, and he held his breath as he slowly stood up, glancing over his shoulder to make sure Mathew hadn't stirred. Mathew's face was relaxed, lost in sleep, oblivious to the tension gripping Thomas's every muscle.

Thomas's heart raced as he tiptoed out of the bedroom. He couldn't stop to think. He couldn't stop to plan. His body moved on autopilot, driven by the need to get away, to escape. He knew he had to move quickly, quietly, any sudden noise could wake Mathew, and if he woke up...

No. Don't think about that.

The living room loomed before him, still as suffocating as ever. It was eerily dark. Mathew's apartment felt like a prison, each shadow hiding a thousand bad memories, but Thomas didn't let his eyes linger. He looked around the room, his eyes adjusting to the dark, but he couldn't see his phone. His heart pounded in his chest. It was probably still in Mathews pocket. He couldn't risk it. Thomas found his backpack and his jacket on the floor and grabbed them as quietly as he could.

His pulse thundered in his ears as he reached the front door. His shaking hands fumbled with the lock for a moment, panic creeping into his chest as it resisted. Finally, with a soft click, the door unlocked, and Thomas pulled it open just enough to slip through. The hallway outside was empty, silent, and he closed the door gently behind him, praying Mathew wouldn't wake.

Once the door clicked shut, Thomas bolted. His legs carried him down the hallway of the apartment complex, his body running on pure adrenaline. He didn't stop. He couldn't. His breath came in short gasps as he made his way down the stairs and out into the cold night air. The streets were deserted, the city asleep, but Thomas felt none of the usual comfort of solitude. His mind raced, the weight of what he'd just done pressing down on him with each step.