SLEEPSONG (BoyxBoy)✔️

Chapter 73

Chapter Seventy Three

Life is strange.

Every journey is different since life never takes the path you expect.

The television in Woody's living room was on and droning, something about a politician of some sort getting mixed up in a nefarious scandal, but for me it was all background noise. I sat silently on the couch, staring off into space with my legs curled up against me and my head pillowed on the big armrest. Woody was sitting on the opposite end, and while I normally would have assumed he was watching it, I knew his eyes were actually on me. 

They'd been on me ever since he'd come rushing indoors from the barn when I'd fallen over in the hallway and had found myself unable to get up again. Not right away, of course, but he must have heard that something wasn't right since he'd looked horrified when he'd charged in.

Getting from my room to the couch had been an extremely painful experience. 

I mean, if I so much as tried to walk like a normal person, my lower spine, my guts, and my butt would scream together in a harmony of silent agony. I was actually so sore that pulling on some pants had been something I was incapable of doing, not even a soft pair of cotton pajama slacks.

I couldn't widen my stance or move my legs apart at all without my body hurting intensely. 

So, instead of being stupid, I'd hung up my pride and changed into the pleated crosshatch black skirt Tiffany had picked out for me when we'd gone shopping. Thrown together with a soft, form-fitting black sweater, the outfit was cute enough for me to get over looking like a girl.

I mean, Sebastian liked me in clothes like these... and I looked good, right?

Right.

I let out a dreamy sigh and gently rubbed my ankles together, missing his warmth. Woody hadn't tried to communicate, but I'd been able to tell just from his overall tenseness and demeanor that he was in an extremely bad mood. Why he was in a bad mood was a mystery, though.

He hadn't questioned me and I hadn't gone out of my way to talk to him because I hadn't had the heart. I didn't want to do anything that possibly could take away my present state of dream-hazed giddiness, so for two entire hours I simply sat on his couch, lost in a daze. 

He'd cast repetitive concerned and frustrated looks at me, brows increasingly furrowed, more and more lines creasing his skin, until he looked like a jittery mess. 

I hardly noticed, but to be fair I was too far gone to notice anything. 

I was happier than I'd been in years.

So happy that I occasionally pinched myself to make sure I wasn't dreaming. 

My hair slid across my face as I shifted my body, carefully repositioning my legs, but I tried my best not to flinch when that ache flooded through my guts. I didn't want to hate this pain. I didn't want to regret it, and I wouldn't, I refused... it was the proof that I belonged to him.

The proof that he'd loved me... that we'd made love for the first time.

Pain was pain, though, and I had zero pain tolerance.

I silently lifted my hand and touched the bite on my neck, absently closing my eyes and running the tips of my fingers along the tooth scars. It wasn't until I heard a rustle and opened my eyes again that I realized Woody had finally come over. I craned my neck, looking up at him through doe-eyed vision and strands of messy brown hair as he squatted down and gazed at me intently.