SomeWhere On... (BXB)

...Canon Street - June

"Are you okay?" he asks again.

"I'm fine." It comes out flat.

Murph sighs and reaches out for me. "Tommy – "

"I said I'm fine."

He backs away, shaking. Murph's jaw clenches and he leaves.

I lean back on my bed again. That was a shitty thing for me to do. I know it. He knows it.

And what's fucking worse is that he can't afford to come over here, and yet here he is. Because I somehow managed to fuck up. Like, even with his help, I still somehow managed to not snag a job, to screw up our plan.

Go fucking me.

"Can I come in, or are you going to bite my head off again?" he asks from the door.

"Pup, I'm sorry."

Murph walks in with a glass of water and a grilled cheese sandwich and crisps. "Doesn't mean you get to be a dick at me."

"Pup, I'm sorry."

He puts the stuff down on my desk and turns to me, adjusting his glasses. "I know." Murph ruffles his hair. "I understand...that I moped around for months over the contest thing, but I want to try and rectify that with your situation."

I don't know what 'rectify' means, but I get what it means from what he said.

"I know."

Murph sits down next to me. "So our summer plans blew up in smoke." He takes my hand. "What about those other jobs you applied for?"

I scowl. "I heard back from, like, two of them. By the time I got back to them after what happened, they already filled the positions."

"Tommy – " He stops to yawn, which somehow makes his frown bigger. " – I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry." His head drops onto my shoulder.

"Why're you apologising?" I ask. "It isn't your fault."

He grumbles. It's cute.

I sigh. "Like, it's not like you knew I would get kicked out."

He looks at me. "Okay, you have to stop saying you got kicked out. No more 'I fucked up'. No more 'I bombed it'. You know better than that, sweetie."

My nose wrinkles. "Sweetie?" What am I, 80?

Murph blinks. "What, you have 'Pup' and 'luv' for me. Why can't I have a cute name for you?"

"Because 'sweetie' is what old women call their grandkids."

He inhales and purses his lips. "Sweetheart?"

"No."

"Teddy bear?"

"Why?"

"You're cuddly." He grins. Dimples, but now isn't the time to be distracted.

"Kinda a mouthful, don't you think?"

He gasps. Loudly, and in my ear. "Teddy? Get it? Like, like 'Tommy teddy bear'?" He's staring at me hard with a big, open-mouthed grin, waiting for my reaction.

"No."

Murph deflates. "Come on."

"No. I'm not a fucking stuffed animal." I stand, and go for the grilled cheese.

"Hm," he hums. "You're right."

"Thank you."

"You're definitely a cat."

I'm about to take a bite out of the sandwich. But I stop. "A fucking cat? Like the feral things running around in the alleys?"

Murph nods, beaming. "Absolutely. You're antisocial, have specific tastes, open up to only a few people, have a constant 'I don't give a shit what you think' look on your face, and..." He leans forward, blushing. "...you're still kinda cute."

God, I hate it when this boy gets mushy.

He gets up and trots over to me. "And you don't like being touched!" he shouts, giddy, as he runs his hands through my hair.

"Pup, stop!" I hiss, swatting him away with the grilled cheese. "W...why you..."

Murph's laughing. "See? A cat." His arms snake around my neck. "It's okay, though. Because I like cats."

Can you fucking stop.

I'm actually embarrassed for him. But that doesn't stop me from turning red and trying to get away. "Shut up."

"My very own kitten," he giggles.

"Oh my God, stop."

"Goodness, I love my kitty cat sooooooo much!" he shouts, ruffling my hair.

"I'm going to murder you," I whisper.

Murph's still smiling. "Aw. Wouldn't be the best way to end a trip, right?"

I sigh and scratch my head. "We...we can discuss my nickname later, okay?"

He nods enthusiastically. "But do you feel a little better?"

Then my brain processes. Murph managed to distract me better than Steve, Gavin, and Jess combined. And that includes taking me out to bars. Movies. Restaurants.

If I didn't love this guy, I would've assumed something was wrong with me.

"...a little," I mutter.

Murph tips his head into my chest. "Now I know how you feel when I was moping."

I put down the sandwich and hug him. "Pup, you're way better at making me feel better."

"Untrue," he says, looking up at me. His blue eyes are bright. He waves his hands in front of his face. "Disregarding everything else about...then, within an hour of you showing up at my house, you helped me get out of my slump. And that was just...you being you." Murph buries his face in my chest again. "I'm just trying to return the favor," he mutters.

I inhale and tighten the hug. It does make me feel a little better, knowing he's here, but I'm just mad that I'm the reason he's spent so much to come see me. Again. Which is taking away from his, like, need to move out. Which he hasn't done, either.

And I'm not sure if I'm all too pleased about the long weekend he has planned for us.

He pulls back and kisses me hard. "Just try not to think about it too much this weekend, okay?" Murph taps his fingers on my neck. "It's our first vacation away, and I'm excited."

"I'm not. You haven't told me where we're going."

Murph blinks. "All I'm going to say is that we leave Euston Station, tomorrow," he says, nodding.

I sigh.

At least if Murph planned it, I shouldn't havetoo much to worry about, right?