[Featured in FreetheLGBT: Diverse Literature reading list and Humor: Young. Dumb. Full of Fun list]
Colin Mitchell, a photographer at a well-known store, Snapshot, is openly gay--mostly. His ideal experiences are sexcapades that are always subtle, n...
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Colin's eyes could only register darkness when they first fell open, then slowly, he was able to make out the outline of a few items through the heavy black curtain that hung in the air. The centre table. The TV hooked up on the wall. He was in the living room.
Sitting up, Colin rubbed his hand over his face before he finally got on his feet, befuddled and disoriented self, heading towards the bathroom. As the harsh sound of urine hitting water in the toilet filled his ears, he tried to remember why he hadn't been in bed. Surely, there must have been a reason he slept in the living room because the couch wasn't such a comfortable thing to sleep on. He could already feel an ache in his neck that travelled along the line of his spine to his back.
Water swirled in the toilet bowl when Colin flushed it. His eyes shut briefly when he rested his head against the cold tiled wall, willing his muscles to carry him back to bed. Then the coin dropped.
Peter.
He had been waiting for Peter to get back from wherever the hell he went to. Colin hadn't questioned Peter about where he was going because he never expected him to be gone this long with no contact. Nonetheless, he'd surely be back by now.
Colin walked up to Peter's room and opened the door slowly, eyes moving to the bed. It was empty, messed up to a degree he never knew was possible, but still empty. Colin sighed, thoughts running wildly about where his roommate could be.
The intensity of the brightness that came from Colin's phone dazzled him for a few seconds after he turned on the screen. His eyes moistened a bit as he directed the phone away from his eyes and blinked rapidly. He checked the time after his eyes had adjusted.
2:46
And Peter still wasn't back.
He returned to the couch to grab the blanket-- that's when it hit him. Colin had no memory of going to bed with a blanket, especially not one that looked like the one in his hands. Peering closely at the fabric, he saw what looked like the pattern found in those tartan designs.
He was clueless as to why this had been laid over him until his eyes fell on the figure on the other couch, huddled into a fetal position.
"Pikachu," Colin whispered, bending over. Peter still slept on, his cheek puffing up slightly with every breath.
The brunet's hands went under Peter's body and he lifted the curled body up with him. Peter's face contorted as if he was in pain and he let out a small groan, features scrunching up.
Carrying his roommate bridal style, he walked the sleeping boy to his room, kicking the door open with his leg. He was careful not to let Peter's head hit the doorjamb as he passed through it, moving sideways, ever so slowly.
A mewl left the his lips, prompting Colin's attention to shift back to him.
