{ #5 } Eclipse Of The Moon (MxM || 18+)

Chapter 34 - Time-Out

Eclipse Of The Moon ~ Book 1 of Aaron
Chapter 34
Time-Out

Sunday 24 August 2003

"Aaron. Wake up."

Mmm... I'm so tired...

As an intense ray of light suddenly hits my face, a grunt of exasperation escapes my mouth and I roll to lie on my stomach to hide away from that blinding bitch hanging from the ceiling, wrapped like a burrito in my comforter. I forgot to turn up the thermostat last night, too numb to even get up again from my bed when I grasped how cold it was in here. After I realized that Ivan had already nosed in my homework and found out about my recent idleness, all I wanted was to reach my bed and drown into oblivion.

I wasn't that lucky.

I knew how bad I had messed, not only with my jaunt to the nightclub, but also with my lack of seriousness during Ivan's absence. I could only imagine how disappointed he was in me, how betrayed he must have felt, and the mere thought kept me awake for all night long. In fact, it feels like I barely fell asleep and I wouldn't mind a few more hours in the warmth of my comforter.

Wishful thinking...

"AARON, WAKE UP! It's the second time I'm asking, and believe me, there won't be a third time," Ivan growls as he roughly snatches my comforter and discards it on the floor.

The sudden cold has me sit up and glare back at the man who's standing at the foot of my bed, even more so when I briefly peek at my alarm clock and see that it's only 7am. No wonder I feel so tired and grumpy, I remember I saw the clock hit 6 in the morning. I may be fully aware that I must shoulder my responsibilities and deal with the consequences of my acts, it doesn't mean I'm going to capitulate so easily.

Fuck. Between a certain someone's strictness and my exhaustion, the day promises to be problematic at best – painful at worst.

"Ivan, it's barely 7," I sigh, rubbing the sleep off my face before I look up at him. "I'm tired..."

Without surprise, he is standing tall and tense, his arms folded across his chest and glowering down at me. He looks tired too, his eyes smaller than usual, and it doesn't soften his angry features the slightest bit. Quite the opposite. I don't know how many hours of sleep he got or how long he has been up, but he is already dressed in blue jeans and a white dress shirt that looks so sexy.

"Do I look like I care? No. Be downstairs in five minutes."

His grave voice holds its habitual sternness and inflexibility. It's the voice that leaves no place for pleading or reasoning, and anyway, before I even have time to open my mouth, he is already out the door and on his way downstairs.

Did I say the day was going to be painful? More like excruciatingly painful.

Exhaling a long sigh of frustration, I crawl out of my bed and drag myself to the bathroom, still in my boxer briefs. After a quick trip to the toilets and then to the sink to spray my face with cold water as an unsuccessful attempt to wake up, I stop by my bedroom to slip into a pair of dark-blue sweatpants and go downstairs to face the beast.

I find him in the kitchen, seated at the island counter and surprisingly quiet and relaxed as he sips on his tea. Someone has been busy it seems if I judge by the other mug filled with tea, a plate of toasts and another one with freshly baked pancakes resting on the table. Not willing to start the conversation, I simply hop on my stool across from him, and since he remains silent, I help myself with a few pancakes that I cover with marmalade and start eating.

I'm so fucking tired, though. And here I thought I could have worked all night long and go through the day as if all was normal. Bullshit. And the more minutes tick by, the worse my mood gets.