Requested prompts

Requested prompts bundle 1 - "I need a place to stay." - COF/AOM

It was late, David didn't have a watch but he knew it was late. It was dark out, and cloudy too, almost unnaturally so. The streetlights didn't work in this side of town, and so he had to rely on his eyes alone, though they were red and hazy. Countless thoughts came and go in his brain, letting off a certain buzzing, but he was content nonetheless. Clumsily, he made his way along the littered street, stumbling as he went. David pauses, licking his dry lips, and pulls out a tin to start rolling a cigarette against a wall. His knowing fingers worked precisely despite his affliction, and when three were made, he was content. He puts one between lips, cupping his hands to light it and inhaling deeply. He sighs out the smoke, feeling any remaining stress leave his body with the chemicals. Satisfied, he began to walk again, ambling down the remainder of the black path with a slight sway.

Some moments, he seems to forget the cigarette hangs from between his lips, and almost burns his hand, but then flicks off the ash, and takes another drag. His brows scrumple in thought, a sort of deep concentration, and then he shakes his head, and sets pace once more. The cold doesn't seem to hit him, and his skin tingles with warmth, his brain with excitement. It was a long way back yet, but David didn't mind. He was fine with the deep night, not even fear could reach him in his state.

What started as a few unnoticeable droplets of water steadily grew, until the rain was pelting off his skin with such ferocity that he felt the stabbing of millions of tiny needles on him, hurting through clothes. To make matters worse, the temperature was dropping fast, warnings of storms left forgotten in his brain. Snow flurried in the atmosphere around him, chilling him along with the rain and leaving him shivering. His clothes were no doubt soaked through now, and his cigarette had almost bent from how hard the rain was hitting it - but never mind, it was out, sodden, and so David threw it to the ground with a curse. His brain told him to light another, and he almost agreed with that logic, until it occurred to him that he had stopped walking. He shakes his head again, wet hair flopping over his eyes as he pulls up his hood, a rare occurrence indeed. His legs seem to move ahead of his body as he speeds towards the destination, the icy feeling starting to drip into his bones now, though he could not shiver. It was strange, but unthought-of as he continued along the way.

It was late, he knew it, the clock told him so, but he could not bring himself to sleep. Nightmares still gripped him. He dropped his pen, having gotten lost in the thought of them once more, and swore to himself, leaning down to pick it up. He finished off the last few details of the entry, and shut the book without a word, slipping it into a box on the top of his dresser. He stretches, feeling his back click, and groans wordlessly. A quick glance at the clock; 02:40.

"Damn." He mumbles, voice hoarse from sleep and terror. He stands, scratching his head aimlessly, wandering towards his window. Storms always calmed him, so hopefully it would be the same tonight. He could hear the rain against his roof, tapping. It was sort of calming in an unnerving way. His hands drew back the curtains, and he very nearly screamed. His voice, luckily, cut out from before. There was somebody there, at the window. He couldn't make out what they looked like, and he quickly patted himself down, eyes scanning the clock to make sure he wasn't dreaming again. 02:44. He lets out a sigh of relief, and almost forgets about the figure standing outside his window, tapping on the glass along with the rain. Did he forget to take his meds again? No, his meds bottle was upside down, it was right this morning. He swallows thickly.

"Simon!" The voice rips him from his thinking. He opens the window a crack, voice wavering.

"What do you wan- David?!" He questions, eyes widening. There stood the older male, clothes soaked through with the rain, and shivering heavily. Simon hoists the window the whole way up, motioning for David to come in. He puts a finger to his lips, and David nods, clumsily entering through the window. Simon eyes him up cautiously, the slight light of his lamp illuminating him from the side, casting an ominous shadow across the length of the room. "David, what are you doing here?!" Simon hisses, voice quiet. The last time he had seen him, they had gotten into an argument, and had not spoken since. That was weeks ago. Of course, with all David had going on, they could never meet often, but this time, Simon felt like he was missing the older male.

"I need a place to stay." David manages to stutter out through the shivers that wracked his body. Simon sucks on his tongue, raising a brow in less than amusement, but then nods, his expression dropping.

"You need to get out of those clothes." Simon says, voice laced with concern. David makes no attempt to move, his sopping wet clothes making a small puddle on the carpet. Simon moves towards him, watching him intently. "You're high again, aren't you?" He sighs, and just watches David sway, struggling to stand. "Okay, fine." His hands reach forwards, unzipping David's hoodie and dropping it onto the floor next to them. He makes quick work of his turtleneck, and stops when David remains wearing his jeans. "You, uh, gotta take them off, you'll get sick if not." His face flushes, but in the lamplight its not that obvious. David unbuttons his jeans and makes a move to remove them, staggering to the side. Simon sighs, helping David support his weight while he removed his trousers. Simon sits David down onto the side of his bed, rummaging through a drawer to throw him a tee shirt. Simon picks up the soaking ball of clothes and quietly opens his door, tiptoeing over to the bathroom and setting the garments into the bath to dry. He creeps back over to his room, and shuts the door as silent as possible.

David is lounged on Simon's bed, hands behind his head with his eyes closed. "David!" Simon whispers out, annoyed. David opens an eye and grins stupidly, still in only his boxers. Simon rolls his eyes, moving to the bed to grab the shirt. "Dude, c'mon!" He huffs, lifting David's arms and helping him into the slightly too small shirt. He black haired boy swatted David away slightly, so he could climb into bed as close to the wall as possible. A single bed made for uncomfortable sharing situations, but it wasn't the first time, so Simon didn't seem to care anymore. The horror of dreaming had worn off, and he was tired. Simon takes little notice when the bed dips behind him, and closes his eyes, that is until something cold and wet slides across his ear. Simon jolts, eyes snapping the the older man who had his head buried in Simon's neck, wet hair dampening their shirts. The younger male found himself once again heating from the idea, but tried to dismiss this as best as he was able. David slips his arms around the younger man's waist, comfortable in his warmth, and letting out an odd sound, almost like purring.

When the heavy blanket of sleep is pulled from him, David groans quietly, finding his arms trapped. He opens his tired eyes, and smiles at the sight. Simon, asleep, cuddled in his arms. He looks so peaceful, David thinks to himself, but the clock reads 5:49 and the sun was already streaming through the gap between the curtains. David gently eases himself out from around the black haired boy, and brushes a stray tress out of his eyes. He was groggy, mind aching but he had to leave before Simons mum woke up. He lets himself linger there, for just a moment, watching the rise and fall of the others chest, and leans down, gently pecking lips against his nose. Then, quietly, he stands, removes and folds the shirt to place on the desk, and goes to get his clothes.
Once he's dressed, he returns, and grabs a pen, gently scribbling down a note to leave on the desk. When everything is back in it's place, David lets himself out through the window, and heads on his way.

Simon awakes, rubbing his eyes tiredly. He feels oddly cool, like something was missing, but a tingling on his face. He sits up, eyes falling on the small piece of paper resting on his shirt.

Thanks, I owe you one. I hope you slept well.

Simon, who had slept the best in months, smiled to himself, and began to go about his day.