Smol Fry | Hercules X Lafayette

C h a p t e r T w e n t y s i x

Laff's POV

Regret is a strong word, almost like hate. To say I had regretted something would mean to have done something quite extreme, such as looked in the drawers at the hotel we stayed in a while back - to this day, I'm still not too sure what exactly was in there. Hercules did, but he wouldn't say. However, I didn't necessarily mean I regretted choosing to go camping, but perhaps I should have checked how well my sleeping bag was going to insulate me. After reading the tag, I had realised that my sleeping bag would protect me from the cold until the temperature dropped below ten degrees Celsius.

Now, that was too late.

It was extremely early in the morning - Half an hour past midnight. If it was not for the man, who had stolen my heart, being next to, I would have probably cried myself to sleep in fear of the dark or death by freezing. I had noticed that my uncontrollable, seemingly violent shivering was only getting worse, and I was becoming slightly more worried by the second. Perhaps it was just me being weak. Nobody else was complaining, or at least texting each other, so it could not really be that bad.

Just as I began to think that, I began to hear the quiet patter of raindrops hitting the tent, however after a while, it stopped, and was replaced by a soft sounding, but strong breeze. After that, the breeze slowly morphed into something more sinister, or at least strong enough to cause the tent cover to move along with it. Due to the fact that Hercules had put up the tent, I was feeling quite safe, but something inside told me that the rain hadn't stopped, but rather, it was snowing, and it may have been turning into a blizzard.

A sudden gust of wind, louder than any thunder I had ever heard caused me to let out a small noise of shock. Completely taken aback, I hid my head underneath the 'covers' as what sounded like a hurricane occurred outside. In fact, it was getting louder and louder by the second. Whatever weather events were happening, I was not enjoying them and they didn't seem to stop. For what felt like days, constant wind, constant moving of the tent covers, constant noises taking me by surprise. As what sounded like the Earth being ripped apart took place outside, I hid in fear of being ripped apart by the weather itself. But I was not prepared for the temperature to completely plummet at the click of a finger.

Oh mon dieu. It was freezing.

So freezing in fact that tears began to  roll down my cheeks. Before I knew it, I was sobbing and a familiar feeling developed in my stomach. The same feeling on the very first night I slept at Hercules'. I took a look around the foreign 'room' I was in and noticed just how dark it really was. I was homesick, homesick beyond belief. I just wanted to be back at the apartment, or at my Grandmother's - somewhere warm or light. I did not feel safe now, I was crying myself to the non-existent sleep I would receive. I shut my eyes, in hope that the figures, morphed from darkness, crept up on me. I hid in the sleeping bag, merely pretending I was somewhere else, anywhere but here.

I was terrified, and there was no other way to put it. I was a wimp, a coward, a weak annoying cry-baby, who is good for nothing but stuttering his words and irritating those who took pity on me. My mother's words were true. A normal human being would be asleep, not being scared by stupid fears that meant nothing to everyone else. Everything she had ever said to me came back, and I smiled sadly, as it was all true, but unsurprising. My tears, an uncontrollable tap, carried on flooding down my face. Somebody else could have had my life, and made a better son, a better brother, a better student, a better person. I am nothing but an irritating, homosexual, imbecilic moron... And it didn't take three people in a dark room for me to know. After all, those bruises would be a constant reminder of that - I did not deserve to forget, or to even live.