Before I Ran || Perrentes

Chapter 13: Goblin Market

Tony woke up for good a little later and he moaned as he reached over and checked the time. It was half eight. He was sure they were supposed to be up at the o'clock.

Rubbing his eyes, he sat up in bed and frowned to himself. Surely Vic and Jaime would have knocked them awake if they'd overslept...so why hadn't they? Tony's mind immediately leapt to foul play - until his put his ear against the wall and heard Jaime snoring, and then he realised they really had just slept in.

He swung his legs off the bed, sitting up, rolling his neck, trying to eliminate the stiffness and soreness from the tough motel pillow. Pale light was falling in through the window, blocked by the old, stained curtains but finding its way through the cracks and splattering on the floor. There were rumbles and drones from the freeway outside, but on the inside of the motel, all was quiet. This little bubble was still asleep, and in the silence and calm of the room Tony looked over at Mike.

He was lying splayed out on his back, one arm hooked over his head and the other stretched out to the side with his head turned in the same direction. His chest rose and fell steadily and finally he looked like an average nineteen year old, with all the stress and worries and responsibilities melted away from his face and temporarily hidden beneath the rickety, cheap motel bed. Tony looked at him for what was probably a little bit too long, and then forced himself to drag his eyes away. It was creepy to watch someone while they slept. Even if he was all Tony could think about.

Like a middle school girl with a stupid crush, Tony was smitten, and the threat of his parents hounding him was barely dragging on his mind because all he could think about was that fucker on the bed next to him. Tony wanted to kiss him again, because he'd felt it now; he'd tasted it and experienced that motion, and like a petulant child he wanted more. And like a damn moron, he knew he wouldn't ask for it. Mike was right, after all. It wasn't worth the broken heart.

Was it?

Tony shook himself as he stood and looked around. If they'd all overslept, they must have needed it, so he didn't wake them for a while. As far as he knew, they were in no rush. So he filled the kettle with water and flicked it on to boil, prepared four little mugs of coffee and all the UHT milks he could find, assembled sugar and honey on the sides of the saucers. The simple task reminded him of work in the coffee shop, and it was strangely comforting.

Whilst the kettle boiled, Tony went to the supply bag. A few hand towels had been removed, and they were in Jaime and Vic's room...but the rest of the things that had been removed were scattered around this room, so Tony busied himself moving as quietly and quickly as he could, replacing the items in the bag, throwing away the empty food cartons, re-sealing the half eaten ones. He filled up the four reusable water bottles and put them in the bag too. He then went to the kettle, fully boiled, and poured out four cups of coffee before he went to the door of the adjoining room and knocked. There was no response apart from a disgruntled snore, so Tony twisted the handle and pushed the door open.

No reaction. Jaime's grunts came and went at a periodic rate without showing any sign of waking up. Tony cocked his head as he watched the couple, hesitant; he didn't like waking people up. Vic was topless and swaddled beneath the sheets with his arms and shoulders revealed, and his muscles, although he was small, were prominent and rolling like hills. Jaime was facing the other way and from this angle rather resembled a rock - everything about him was just solid, and he was not the kind of man one would want to run into on a dark night. Tony found himself half laughing at the way they were positioned in bed - all of these TV shows and romance novels wanted the readers and viewers to believe the fire stayed alive in relationships, that it was only customary the couple in hand would wake up wrapped tightly in each other's embrace. But that wasn't the truth. It seemed logical the only acceptable sleeping arrangement, once the initial fiery spark of a new relationship died down and commitment set in, was back to back - after all, nobody wants their partner breathing down their neck or on their face all night. Arm-in-arm spooning was just plain impractical.