Open [boyxboy] ✓

thirty-eight:: when you admit there's a problem.

[Self-acceptance is the key to happiness; Building by Javon Johnson (and the wild music video from Alessia and Troye was so gay, I loved it)

TRIGGER WARNING. HERE'S THE SAD ASS LONG AWAITED REPETITIVE CHAPTER HERE.

THIRTY-EIGHT: when you admit there's a problem.

I'd woken up by myself, laid back on my bed and a blanket thrown over my body. My throat was scratchy, my eyes dry and my cheeks stiff, I must've cried myself to sleep. What a great way to wake up, my shirt sticking to me and my forehead dry from sweat yet my hair damp, a towel sat folded perfectly on my bedside table.

Paul must've done that.

But I didn't care about that, I cared about the fact that my boyfriend wasn't laying beside me and his pants weren't on my gaming chair where he'd left them because of the fact that he always slept in his boxers. The side he was laying was cold to the touch and made -as if he'd never been there- and panic ran through me when I thought of the possibility that he left, he got sick of me and he left. He meant it when he broke up with me.

No, no, no, no, no.

He didn't leave, he wouldn't, I didn't fuck everything up. I kept telling myself that Paul kinda sorta almost loved me and we could talk things through but that was hard when his sneakers weren't in the place he'd kicked them off the night before.

Pulling myself out of bed, my fingers fiddled with the bottom of my boxers as I stood. My head hurt, my eyes did too as I shut them, leaning over to grab the pain-killers out of my drawer. I'd always kept them in there, heavy headaches in the mornings weren't too frequent but they happened every once in a while so I took precautions. Pouring two out, I stood from my bed and made my way to the bathroom, eyes catching onto Paul's shoes by my door.

So he didn't leave.

I'd never felt more relief than I did when I saw his beat up low converses sitting neatly by my door and I smiled slightly even through the pain in my head. Tightening my hand on the pills in order to take my mind off of the pounding, I continued my walk to the bathroom that connected mine and Jade's bedrooms. Turning on the tap, I popped the pills in my mouth before leaning down and drinking from the tap.

I could hear a small knock on the door and sat up, wiping at the side of my mouth, my eyes catching brown ones in the mirror. His curls were laying flat against his forehead, wet as if he'd just taken a shower and I noticed the towel in his hands and the new clothes. There he stood, bottom lip pulled into his mouth, his lean torso nestled in one of my shirts that were slightly too big around the neckline considering my shoulders were higher than Paul's. His collarbones were peaking out, small tattoo there and fading hickey beside it.

His hands we're playing with a pair of my navy blue basketball shorts that were bunched at his hips, showing that he had to secure it tightly and his feet were clad in mismatch green and gray socks.

"Hey." His voice was soft as was his smile as he pushed his hands into his- my shorts.

I couldn't get over how good he looked in my clothes.

Rubbing the side of my head, I pulled a small smile in return before turning around and resting my elbow on the counter. Even through the throbbing, Paul still made me smile. "Hey." My voice was barely there and it kinda hurt to talk, I'd probably done a lot of mindless wailing once Paul was there the night before... I'd cried in his arms like a child and I hated that fact.

Biting at his bottom lip, he looked down at the towel in his hands before stepping further into the bathroom to place it in the clothes bin, "Your dad um, he saw me and offered a shower and some clothes to change into but I thought I could just wear yours."