Yes, Mr. Demon Boy? (BoyxBoy)

Chapter Nine

Chapter Nine

Mason

“Oh! Mason, sweetie, what are you doing here?”

Mrs. Smith’s tired eyes lit right up as soon as she realized who was standing on her doorstep at 7:15 on a Friday morning. I flashed one of my breathtakingly gorgeous Mom smiles, then looked up at her shyly. I listened as her heart rate elevated slightly, her pale skin flushing a light pink.

“Hey Mrs. Smith, just coming to pick Troye up for school,” I responded, my voice low and gravely as I took a step closer to her. She gulped, blinking a few times, before subconsciously opening the door wider as I drew closer.

“Oh, yes…” she said distractedly, moving out of the way so I could get in. As soon as I was in the clear, I bounded for the stairs, yelling a quick “Thanks Mrs. S!” as I went. Right as I got to the top, she finally found the courage to yell back.

“Good luck! He hasn’t budged all morning!”

I bit my lip, pausing at the top of the stairs. This may be harder then I thought. But I willed myself to keep going. That’s what Casp would have done.

“Troye?” I called quietly, pushing open the door to his room. There was no answer, so I stepped in. I glanced around his room. He had two unoccupied twin beds on either side, a nightstand in the middle with a dresser on the opposite wall. The room was surprisingly clean, both beds made, no dirty clothes lingering on the floor. This was weird.

I prickled up my ears at the sound of a steady heartbeat not far away. I stepped out of Troye’s room and moved along the hallway slowly, listening as the beating got faster. I paused outside of a door that had a “Beware of Dog” sign taped to the front of it. I felt myself smile. Troye was in Dallas’ room.

My thoughts wandered to the two weeks Casp had visited England about a month ago. I did the same thing Troye was doing now. I spent every night cuddled up to Casp’s old teddy bear he called “Joshua,” waiting for him to come home. It sounds so stupid, but I missed him and sleeping in his bed was the only thing that would make my heart stop aching.

Slowly, I turned the knob and peaked my head in.

“Troye?”

The lights were out, but he was definitely in here. The mass of blankets on the queen bed had a small tuft of brown hair poking out of it, letting me know that Mrs. Smith was right when she said he wasn’t budging.

“Go away,” he grumbled, his voice somewhat muffled from all the comforters. I sighed, and stepped up to the bed, sitting on the edge.

“Troye you gotta get up, kid.”

“Fuck you,” was the response.

I ran my fingers through my hair, pulling at the ends. This was definitely going to be harder then it looked.

“C’mon, dude, please?”

He didn’t even respond this time, but his hand flew out from under the blankets as he flashed me the middle finger.

“Troye, Dallas really needs you to—“

“Dallas?” he shouted, cutting me off as he burst through the blankets to face me. Even in the darkness I could see the massive circles under his eyes and puffiness from crying.

“Yes, Dallas he—“

“Why the fuck didn’t you say that in the first place?!” he screamed, scrambling to get the blankets off himself. Once he did, he rushed to the closet and pulled on a sweatshirt and jeans so fast I had a hard time believing he changed at all.