I never thought

I'd wake up in your bed

Jake shifted and groaned, a comforter sliding against his bare chest. His hand slowly went to an eye, rubbing out some tears. The comforter continued to be pulled away, stopping at his naval. Jake slowly opened his eyes, yawning loudly.

Michael let his blanket go, leaning on the bunk bed. He pushed his glasses up, hair still wet from his morning shower.

"You're crashing on the beanbags next time, okay?"

Jake made a soft noise, slowly sitting up. He looked up at Michael with half lidded eyes, smiling a small bit.

"Mornin' bro."

Michael scoffed out a small laugh and stood up. He walked the two small steps to a red beanbag chair, stepping over it and sitting down.

"Hangover?" Michael questioned.

"Nope." Jake replied, smirking.

Michael scoffed, throwing his arms up in the air. Drama queen.

"Why do you never get hangovers? It's not fair."

Jake shrugged, chuckling softly.

"It's in the blood," he joked, tugging at his hair.

Jake pushed the comforter off, crossing his legs. Thankfully he still had pants on. He rubbed his right knee, where his leg ended. The stub was always itchy when he woke up. He started scratching it, watching Michael set up Netflix with their shared WiiU.

"You let me sleep in your bed again?"

Michael snorted, running a hand through his dewey locks. He flipped on a documentary and put the controller back on the armoire.

"You never get into bed." He turned to face his roommate. "This time Jeremy had to sit next to you until you passed out."

"And you two...?" He hit the top bunk, knuckles rattling the bedframe. Michael just shrugged.

"Nah, he went back to Brooke's room."

Jake looked around and found his prosthetic leg, discarded but politely. The leg sleeve was stuffed in it, and he pulled it onto the bed. He started putting on his leg, slow and lazy.

"So you slept in my bed?" Jake fought yet another yawn.

"Better than the beanbags."

Jake nodded, standing up and stretching. He finally lost the battle of the yawn, choking out a soft groan as his back cracked. He watched Michael pull out the glass bowl from his pocket, grinder already in his lap.

"Did I keep you awake?" He asked, worried he was a burden on his roommate. Michael shook his head.

"I kept myself up. If anything, your babbling helped me sleep." He admitted.

"What time is it?"

"3. Pm."

"Shit."

Michael laughed and patted his own lap. He shrugged, none too upset.

"At least it's Saturday."

Jake smiled and walked over to his closet, not minding the small cramped room. Both the boys needed to clean, clothing and books everywhere. The trash was close to overflowing and there was very little walking space. It didn't help that Jake's wheelchair wouldn't quite fit into the Jock's closet, forcing it to be set in the corner. Neither minded. It made the room cozy.

Jake jolted and stepped back as something snapped under his foot. He looked down at the old wood flooring, seeing a black razor. It had been broken in two. Jake kneeled down and picked it up, flipping the two halves over in his fingers.