Wanderlust (Kellic)

Chapter 8

God I love writing sexual/romantic tension.

By the way, the Craig mentioned in this story is Craig Owens

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Chapter 8 - Call Me Hopeless, But Not Romantic

At around two in the morning, I wake up suddenly, my heart pounding and my breathing fast. I was just having a nightmare again, and the images are still fresh in my mind.

But I try not to focus on that right now, because I can hear some thumping and crashing. I rub my eyes and sit up, which is when I see a dark figure, Vic, quickly pacing back and forth in the room.

"Vic?" I say groggily. "What are you doing?"

Vic runs his fingers through his hair, making a noise of frustration. Then he grabs something off of the desk and throws it across the room.

"Vic!" I hiss. "What’s wrong?"

Vic kicks the leg of the desk, then continues pacing, his hands balled up into fists. “Fucking Craig,” he mutters. “Fucking everyone. That’s what’s wrong. The whole fucking world is wrong.”

I climb out of my bed and make my way over to him. “Vic,” I say, putting my hands on his shoulders. “Why are you up?”

Vic bites his lip, his anger starting to fade. “I couldn’t sleep. Couldn’t stop thinking about shit. Sorry for waking you up.”

Before I can say anything, he pushes past me and crawls back into bed, sighing and brushing a few pieces of hair out of his face. He closes his eyes, but I don’t really want to go back to sleep yet. I don’t want to risk falling back into another nightmare. I normally don’t get them often, but then again, I normally don’t fall in love, and that, I think, is what’s causing them.

"Kellin?" Vic whispers, opening his eyes and staring up at me. The anger has completely left them, and now they look kind of sad, almost pleading.

"Yeah?" I whisper back, standing at the edge his bed.

He hesitates. “Uh…actually, never mind.”

But I’m curious now. I lean forward slightly, resting my hand on the sheets next to where he lies. “I, uh…I had another dream,” I admit.

That seems to catch his attention. He looks up at me, concern written all over his features. “Was it about Jordan?”

I shake my head. “Not this time. But it scared the hell out of me.”

After another moment of hesitation, Vic takes my hand in his, glancing away. “Do you want to stay with me?”

I don’t even have to answer. I just climb into the bed with him—slowly, cautiously—and pull the covers over us, ignoring every instinct that tells me how far from safe I’ve gone.

"You know about Jordan," I say, "so are you ever gonna tell me who Craig is?"

Vic wraps an arm around my waist and pulls me closer to him. “Maybe,” he replies. “But not tonight.”

I close my eyes and rest my head against his chest. I can hear his heart beating, and I can feel his hand moving around in slow, soothing circles on my back. I don’t know if he realizes he’s doing it, but I’m not complaining. The affection feels nice.

Somewhere in the back of my mind, a voice points out, Yeah, this is totally platonic, Kellin. Absolutely. No romantic feelings whatsoever. I tell it to be quiet and stop getting my hopes up. What do I know about romance anyways?