Drowning In River (BoyXBoy)

4: Sporks and Lazy People Heaven

He leaned up against his car, and I waited for my bus, sneaking glances at him from time to time. His lean, tall structure just watched me. His blue eyes setting fire to the pit of my stomach. How did he know? I don't understand. It scares me to know someone who isn't Taylor knows. Better yet, figured it out. I had told Taylor. River just.. Knew. I look over at him again as I took the final puff of the cigarette he forced into my mouth. He doesn't respect personal space. That's obvious. His eyes stay on me, uncaring that I noticed. Our eyes lock, and he cocks his head to the side.

"You're tense." He says. Well, hell yeah I'm tense. I'm absorbed in emotion right now. I shrug my shoulders and try to relax. But my head screams with everything that has taken place today. I fought. I was noticed. River knows I'm gay. I told him I wasn't, but he so obviously doesn't believe me. I hold back a groan as I grab my bag, preparing to walk to my bus.

"I'm fine." I say as I go to cross the street. River's hand finds it way to my shoulder, stopping me. I look up at him, my heart beating wildly again. His expression holds an odd form of emotion. Hurt? Worry? Guilt? What ever it is, I catch it for a split second before it's washed away with a careful smirk.

"How about you come to my place? I can bring you home later." He says. I look him over, unsure if he's serious. We just met, why is he inviting me to his place? He could kill me for Christ's sake.

When he busts into laughter, I realize I said that out loud. His firm hand grips my should as he laughs like it's painful. For him, it just may be. I've never heard him laugh before, but this sounds forced. Strained. As if it's not only foreign to me, but to him as well. "I'll come." I finally say. He looks up at me and cocks his eyebrow as a smirk replaces the dimples caused by his laughter.

"My laughter can do that to you?" He chuckles now. It's more free than the empty sounds he made moments ago. I roll my eyes at him and shove his shoulder, walking and ducking into the passenger seat of his car.

The drive consisted of me going through cases and cases of CDs while he smoked and attempted to look at his phone while I wasn't looking. When I caught him about the third time, I took it and shoved it in my back pocket. He pouted and whined the rest of the drive as I looked over the wide variety of music.

Pulling up at the enormous two-story stone house, the setting before us took my breath away. There are rows and rows of bare trees as the fallen colorful leaves blow through the autumn air surrounding the pond that sits just in front of the house. The red stone appealed to the natural scenery wisping around us. It was truly beautiful. It was a place I didn't even know existed.

"Damn. You live here?" I ash him. He smirks and shakes his head.

"No. My parents live here. I live behind the house." He replies as he drives past the beautiful home. Just behind it is a small shed-like shelter, small and square. Much more simple than the home in which his parents stay, but just as beautiful. The variety colored leaves litter the open space surrounding it, and two bare trees stand just in front of the tiny apartment.

"Why don't you live with your folks?" I question. He sighs as he parks.

"My parents are strict assholes, so I moved in here so they couldn't tell me what to do all the time. My roof, my rules, my life." I nod in understanding as we exit the car and walk into the small house.

The room we enter first contains a bed, a TV, a book shelf and a couch set against the counter that separated this room from the kitchen. The walls are painted this blue-black color and have band posters covering most of the space.  He doesn't seem to listen to one particular type of genre. Just like his CD cases, his walls are covered with different types of music. I see a few bands I'm familiar with, like Slipknot and Skillet. Then there are some older bands like The Smiths and The Beatles. There is even a One Direction poster behind the TV.

"This is the living bedroom." He says as he throws his jacket on the couch on the way into the kitchen.

"The living bedroom?" I ask, raising my eyebrow, he chuckles and nods.

"Yeah. It's the living room and the bedroom, so bam. It's kind of like a spork." He nods at his thought and smirks as he pours his juice. He's always smirking.

"I like sporks." I point out. He chuckles as he takes a sip.

"Sporks are fucking amazing." I laugh and lean against the counter, looking over at him. "This is the kitchen. The best place in the house because. Well. Food. You can't have your spork with out your food." I laugh again, and he leans against the fridge, watching me with a smug smile.

"What?" I ask. His smirk deepens.

"I think I like your laugh." I arch my eyebrow as I feel butterflies in my belly.

"You think?"

"Mhm. It's a nice sound. I'm not used to nice sounds, but I think I like it." I nod my head and cross my arms.

"You should try it sometimes." Now I smirk at him. He rolls his eyes and takes another swig of his juice, running his fingers through his hair. He chuckles.

"Laughter isn't a necessity."

"I could disagree."

"You could but you won't." I shrug, and look through his cabinets.

"You don't have very many things to cook with." I inform the obvious, he shrugs, finishing off his glass.

"My only necessity is a microwave. And sporks. Sporks are needed for life to prosper." I look at him, tracing his smug expression with my mind. After a moment I smile at him.

"As are living bedrooms." He chuckles and holds his arms out in acknowledgment to the front of his home.

"This, my friend, is lazy people Heaven. Sporks and living bedrooms are all a lazy person needs. And a microwave and TV dinners."

"You can't have a TV dinner with out a TV either, so that is needed as well." I nod my head to the plasma set on the dresser."

"Indeed, so a living bedroom, a microwave, a TV, TV dinners, and sporks."

"Lazy people Heaven."

"I'm living the life."

________~|~
River's parents' house to the side or top.
I really like sporks.
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