Dawson is- most people who don't know him would say- as straight as they come. And senior year away from home promises to be a big year for him: no parents in sight, a whole new set of friends, he just seems to have it all. Not to mention that all t...
sooo i was asked to put a warning. this chapter is a lot. lots of feelings, lots of everything.
here's your warning.
hope you enjoy! <3
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DAWSON IS CONFUSED, to say the least. And unprepared to face the very source of his confusion as he enters the tent to pick up the few things he's left behind. His leather satchel and his corduroy jacket.
Dawson walks up to him. "Care to explain?"
Adam pretends to ignore him, as he lifts his satchel from the chair and rests it on the desk. His eyes try to avoid Dawson's at all costs.
"I was just talking to Frank, when he told me that we're going to be sharing the tent tonight," Dawson continues. "Now, imagine my surprise when he informed me that you begged him to switch. Like I'm some kind of—"
Adam wears his jacket and satchel in silence, preparing to leave. His face is stolid like he can't hear a word Dawson is saying, or like his words don't mean a thing to him.
"Aren't you going to say anything?" Dawson bawls at his back.
Adam stops. "I can't share a tent with you," he mutters between gritted teeth.
At first, Dawson is taken aback by the sound of his voice, by how much colder it's become since the last time he talked to him. What went wrong? Dawson is trying so hard to understand what caused the boy to run away from him with such haste and without any explanation.
"Why not?" he crosses his arms to his chest.
"Because."
Dawson is just about done with talking to Adam's back instead of his face. Why is it he can't even look him in the eye? His stomach burns at the sole thought of Adam sneaking out like a one-night stand the morning after. The least Hamilton could do now is look at him. He owes him that much.
"So what, we can watch the sunset together atop a mountain, but we can't share a damn tent?"
Adam turns around. He's indignant, almost to the point of outrage. "Those are very different things."
"Not to me, they're not," Dawson yells.
His eyes widen in horror as the last sound escapes his lips. He falls silent with his heart aching under the steel grip of anxiety. His lips are pressed so thinly together they turn white.
Adam flinches. "What do you mean?"
"I have been good to you the whole time," he pleads, changing the topic. He feels like a beggar and a fool but he can't stop fighting. He won't let go until he knows the truth.
"For what, twenty-four hours?" Hamilton retorts, laughing bitterly.
"I tried," Dawson exclaims, putting his hands in the air, defeated. "I can't say the same about you, though."
