#TFA13

[looselucy]

Date Night

33 “Do you want the window seat?” Harry offered as we shuffled down the train towards our spot. “Holy shit.” I chortled. “You can so tell you’re an only child.” “What?” He screeched, slinging his bag into the overhead compartment. “It’s an unwritten rule, Curls. You gotta take it in turns. If one gets the window seat there, the other gets the window seat the next time. Rule applies on trains and planes. Often also applies for the front seat of the car. Everyone knows this.” “I didn’t know this.” “Because you’re an only child.”

The relief I felt simply because we had left my mum and dads house was absolutely insane. It really shouldn’t have been such a lovely feeling, but it was. My stage of the experiment was over, and it had gone considerably well. Harry had done his job wonderfully, going above and beyond, and I no longer had to dwell over my mother’s words, and my blatant disregard for how it made me feel was back, and it felt great. Being away from it felt great, and that was upsetting in itself. “Florence Daisy Valentine, I’ve found a flaw in your system.” He took my bag from me. “It’s a flawed system, that’s why!” I watched his muscles work as he threw the bag upwards. “It often results in arguments, tears, conspiracy theories like oh no you sat in the window seat on the way back from the last place we went, so, yes, you probably have found a flaw.” “We’re making three journeys. We can’t win. This is just the middle journey. How do we figure this out?” “Well that last one,” I playfully pushed him so he’d go to the window seat. “Will be down to Rock, Paper, Scissors.” “Fuck Rock, Paper, Scissors.” He laughed, complying. “I’m not playing that game with you again. It was bloody tiring last time.” “Okay, well it’s gotta be a Thumb War then.” “And I’d know all this if I wasn’t an only child?” “You would.” I cooed as I sat down. “But it’s okay, because you’ve got me to teach you.” “I feel so blessed.” “I’m a fountain of knowledge.” Harry already had the crossword book in hand, placing it on top of the table proudly as we settled in for the journey. We’d barely made a dint in it on the ride to my home, and we were hoping to get a few more done this time around, with a substantial decrease in the amount of scribbles and mistakes. Being on the train was a nice middle ground for us. We’d escaped one family, and we had a short space of time to just be ourselves before we moved onto the next and the pressure returned. I knew it was going to be different with Harry’s family. He loved them and they loved him, but we were still going to have to act a certain way. Harry didn’t think there was much pressure on me, and I hadn’t either at first, but I’d been thinking about it the previous day, when we were in bed together and he was talking so highly of his mother and father. They had really wanted him to get a girlfriend. They wanted to see him happy with someone, someone who was good for him and someone who made him beam. That’s what they wanted to see. I needed to impress. I needed to push past my normality and really pull out the big guns, just like Harry had for me. The pressure was building, but whilst we were on the train, I didn’t have to think about it. “Right, let’s do this.” He grabbed a pen out of his top pocket again. “We’re aiming to get half way through the book.” “It’s not gunna happen.” “It is! Where’s your faith, Ren? Where is it?” “Lost with your brain somewhere.” “Ha ha.” He faked. “Very funny, Florence-” “Fuck off.” “-Valentine. Now help me with this crossword.” We settled in together, Harry flicking through the pages we’d already worked on and finding a fresh one, already a little eager for someone to come and give us our free champagne. Unfortunately, she never arrived. A bemused couple did though. “Excuse me,” The woman said after staring at us for a while. “I think you’re in our seats.” “Oh! I’m sorry.” Harry baffled, reaching into the pocket inside his jacket to retrieve our tickets. “We must have made a mistake, sorry.” He looked over the print for a few seconds, eyebrows lowering with each word. A little baffled, he showed the ticket in his hand to the woman who was questioning us. “I think we’re in the right place.” He gulped. She leaned a little closer, and it only took her a couple of seconds to see our mistake. Well, my mistake. “This is the train to London.” She spoke. “Hm?” I butt in. “This train is going to London. You’re on the wrong train.” “Fuck.” We were both on our feet in seconds, Harry stretching back to retrieve our bags as I continued to curse, mixed with a lot of apologies, but mainly cursing. We darted off as quickly as we physically could, and much to my dismay, we were running. Once we’d bounced off the train, we were running through the platforms, Harry about ten steps ahead of me, the tickets in his hand as he tried to figure out where the hell we should even be running to. “You said you checked!” He yelled over his shoulder as we dashed. “I did!” I was already out of breath. “I did check! It said platform six!” “It said platform nine!” “Fuck! Shit, yeah. No they were upside down. Fuck! I’m sorry!” We followed the signs as we ran to the correct destination, and Harry kept checking back on me like he thought I would have fallen behind, which I was surprised I hadn’t. Harry’s legs were stupidly long, and he probably wasn’t running at his full capacity because I definitely would have ended up on my own, getting lost. We reached the platform just in time to see the train pulling away from the station. Harry stopped so abruptly that I crashed into his back, dropping my bag and half of its contents flying all over the platform. At least they were flying over the right platform. “FUCK!” I yelled, drawing in more eyes than we’d already attained. “I’m so sorry, Harry. I did check the tickets I promise I did its just-” “Ren,” He was already chuckling as he turned around to me. “It’s fine. There’ll be another-” “I swear to fucking god.” I knelt down to retrieve my things, Harry quickly following. “I just… URGH. I’m sorry. That was idiotic even for me. I just glanced at them. I’m sorry.” He was picking up my things but looking at me, grabbing numerous items and collecting them in his ridiculously large hands. I was just shaking my head, feeling like a royal fool. “I’m finding this funny.” He grinned. “Aren’t you?” “Not really.” “We’ll just get the next one!” “That’s not the point, Harry!” I groaned, flopping my head into my hand. “We had tickets for that train. Now we’ll have to pay again and who knows when the next-” “Ren, would you just calm down!” He placed his hand on my cheek, gently encouraging me to lift my head. “It’s not a big deal!” “Well you’ve only dealt with my fucking clumsiness for just over a month.” I sulked. “Trust me, after a while it’s just fucking annoying.” I really was throwing a bit of a strop, but it frustrated me. It wasn’t as bad when it was just little things, stumbles and bumps and stuff, but when my ineptness resulted in missing trains and giant scars and wasting other people’s time, I found it hard to see the humour. I guess a part of me wanted to be a little more like my sister. She was just so together. She had all her shit sorted and she’d been that way for as long as I could remember. She was composed and elegant and self-assured, and people usually flocked to her because of that. I didn’t make much sense to me that we’d ended up being so dissimilar. “Well I don’t find it annoying.” He shrugged, shoving my items back into my bag. “Yet.” “Not your place to tell me how I feel towards you, Ren,” He got back to his feet. “So shush. C’mon, let’s go see when the next train is.” I zipped up my bag once everything was back in and rolled my eyes as I shot back to my feet, ignoring the faces that were looking at us as we wandered over to the closest information desk, Harry somehow still having a spring in his step even though I’d fucked up. I think Harry just refused to let himself be at all miserable when he was awake, thanks to the fact he struggled so much when he was asleep. He had to be happy now, he had to make the most of everything because the nights were so difficult for him. It was pretty admirable. I spotted the little café on our right as we marched, and I could practically feel the warmth of the red-hot drinks being poured in there for people who arrived half an hour early just to be safe. It would have been convenient if either me or Harry were that type of person. “I’ll go grab us a coffee.” I suggested, already darting in the right direction. “Make mine a tea.” He sniggered. “Fuck you and your coffee.” He continued towards the miserable looking man who was sat just bloody waiting for someone to come and ask him questions about train times, his job seemingly as tedious as mine, as I walked towards the café, yawning straight away simply down to the orange hue of the place. It was already heading up to 6pm, so I was praying the next train wouldn’t be far off. We knew we’d only get the evening with his parents anyway, and thanks to my stupidity I’d just cut our time even shorter. I joined the small queue, looking up to the chalk board like I didn’t already know exactly what I was going to order. We’d spent most of our day with Matilda and James, which was surprisingly enjoyable. James was funny and down to earth and nice to be around, and he seemed to calm Matilda down too. She wasn’t quite as fake and poised when he was there with her, she was more like the girl I’d grown up with, the girl who’d rather be called Matty. “What can I get for you?” The woman behind the counter asked. “I’ll have a tea and a coffee, please.” I smiled. Harry was at my side only a few seconds later as the lonely waitress rushed to do everything on her own, steam bursting around her from every angle and about twenty beeping noises ringing from bloody everywhere. “Don’t throw a fit!” Was the first thing Curls said to me. “Oh god…” “There isn’t another train until eleven.” “OH GOD! WHAT THE-” “REN, IT’S FINE!” He interrupted, wrapping an arm around my shoulder and pulling me closer to him. “Did I not just say don’t throw a fit?” “We’ve missed out on an entire evening with your family, Harry.” I pouted. “Think of it as a hidden blessing.” He beamed down to me. “We’ve now got an evening without worrying whether or not we look like a couple. Pressures off for the night.” “Harry, I’m so sorry.” “Shut your mouth. Now let’s drink these drinks and then… let’s go for a fucking meal or something. Is there anywhere round here we can go?” I peered up to him with my eyes tight, wondering how he could be so bloody chirpy like this wasn’t an entirely frustrating experience. The boy was weirdly nice, overly perfect, all sunshine. “A few places.” I sulked. “Well let’s go! Make a night of it! We can pretend it’s a date.” “Harry-” “I’ll treat you nice, promise.” He winked. “You’re an absolute fool, do you know that?” The girl whipped around with our drinks in her hands, and stumbled backwards as soon as she saw Harry, her eyes wide. “Wow shit fuck. Fuck, sorry. Oh no, I’m sorry! Please don’t tell my manager.” “Wouldn’t dream of it.” Harry smirked at her, retrieving the drinks. “You okay?” “Yeah I’m fine!” She gasped, still staring at him. “I’m just- Yeah. I’m fine. Sorry.” “No worries.” His voice was as warm as the aroma. “I’ll go find us a seat.” He scuttled off as I retrieved my purse from the front pocket of my backpack, a little oblivious to what had just gone on until she spoke. “Is that your boyfriend?” She lowered her voice. I peeked back to her, seeing the way she was glancing over my shoulder to watch him as he moved around the tiny place to find us a table, her eyes flaming at the sight of him. “Uh, no!” I chuckled. “Just a friend.” “How are you friends with someone like that?” She leaned a little closer. “He’s gorgeous.” “He is.” I agreed. “Probably the most decent lad I know, too. Want me to put in a good word? Pass a number along?” “God, no, how embarrassing.” She blushed at the very idea. “Sorry. I probably crossed a line. We just never get anyone attractive coming in here, usually just middle aged men in suits.” “Don’t worry about it.” I grinned. “Enjoy the rest of your shift.” “I’ll try.” I gave her one last friendly look before I made my way over to Harry. I’d seen that happen a few times, women gaping over him. The day we’d gone to get milkshakes, he drew in the eyes of an entire group of women, pointing over to him and eyeing him up. The girl at the pub on Christmas Eve hadn’t been able to keep her eyes off him. I imagined the bar Harry worked in pulled in a large crowd every single night, filled with women who just stood staring at the staff. Harry seemed totally ignorant to it whenever I had seen it happen, but when one of the reasons he’d been hired was down to his good looks, he must have been able to immerse in it a little more when he was at work. He was brushing some strands of hair from his face as I sat down across from him, shooting me a soft smile as he did, completely unaware of his charm. 34 Harry gently lay his napkin across his lap, looking up to me, his face friendly, the waiter still taking notes as he stalked away from our table. I had suggested we just get a Nando’s, keep it cheap and cheerful, but Harry had seemed shocked by the mere suggestion, said if he was going to wine and dine, he was going to do it right. “So I guess this is our first date.” He grinned across to me, reaching for his wine. “Which is weird, considering we’ve already been going out for two months.” “What’s even weirder, Curls, is that I’ve only known you for just over a month. I think that’s what’s weird here.” “I think pretty much everything is weird here.” He chuckled. We’d added a month onto our own timeline to make our relationship seem more plausible, to make it more understandable that we’d be choosing to spend our Christmases with one another. In reality, I had met him on the 15th of November in a group therapy session, a fact I was more than willing to keep hidden. We’d spent a lot time together since that day, and thanks to the warmth that radiated from him, it almost felt like I’d known him for years. Thanks to our circumstances, we were incredibly familiar with one another, and noticeably comfortable. It would have been doing wonders for our agreement. “To us.” He proposed, raising his glass into the centre of the table. I picked up my wine and moved it close to his, holding his eye contact as we clinked the glasses together. “To us.” I replied. “I’m still really sorry about the train.” “Will you ever shut up about the train?” “Yes, at some point.” I smirked. “Not yet though.” Sitting in there, with the low lighting and a glass of wine in my hands, seeing Harry smirk at me from across the table, reminded me of the first night we’d spent together. We’d singled ourselves out from the rest of the group and gotten to know each other. I liked him then. I liked him still. “So, how do you usually woo boys on a date?” He asked, balancing his elbows on top of the table and propping his chin up. “You gunna show me any of your moves?” “I don’t have any moves.” “I refuse to believe that, Ren. I think you have many.” “What makes you think that?” I lifted a brow. “Confident girl like you? Bet you can walk into a room and have anyone you want.” “In that case I wouldn’t need moves.” I rolled my eyes. “I think you like them anyway. I think the moves make you feel good.” I had a few certain things that I’d do on nights out if I bumped into any potential one night stands that seemed to work in my favour, but I didn’t really want to talk about them. They were embarrassing. A lot of eye contact and giggling and trying to turn every single sentence into a double entendre, nothing special. Nothing worth calling moves. I divulged the funniest ones. “I try to make most interactions dirty.” I smiled. “How do you do that?” “I’ll show you how to do it, if you show me how to do it.” I flirted. His mouth dropped as he realised I’d taken his humdrum sentence and turned it on its head, being incredibly suggestive with barely any words. He chuckled lightly, brows still high. “That works for you?” He gawped. “I’ll show you what works for me.” I looked him up and down. “Shit. Okay, stop, you’re getting me all flustered.” He brushed his locks back. “I can see how that would work. Very good.” “Thanks.” I giggled. “I can be pretty forward when I want something. Or someone, I guess.” His eyes were questioning me from across the table, and even though he had predicted I’d have moves, he still seemed surprised by them. Maybe he thought I’d just laugh and avoid the subject, but I felt like I had nothing to hide, not really. “So what about you?” I sat forward. “What about me?” “I shared my moves, you share yours.” “I don’t have moves.” “Bullshit, Curls. Enlighten me.” He swallowed hard, eyes not leaving mine for a second, his skin looking darker thanks to the low lighting that barely illuminated the room. He was quite fascinating to look at, really. His face was sharp and sculpted, but somehow it was still soft, friendly. It seemed everything about him was like that. His body hard but his frame delicate, his humour sharp but personality easy-going, his voice deep and husked but also gentle and inviting. All the contradictions that combined had somehow created a boy so weirdly fascinating, whenever he spoke I found that I had to watch him, like I didn’t want to miss anything. “I do the sex eyes. I’ve told you about the sex eyes. Louis taught me.” “I have such a great image of Louis giving you sex eyes, and you giving them back. How much sexual tension was there between the two of you?” I asked suggestively. “Fuck off.” He chuckled. “But that’s the only move I have.” “You told me you’ve worked in the bar for almost two years.” “Yup. Just before I turned twenty-two. It’ll be two years in May.” “So you’re telling me you didn’t have any moves before the age of twenty-one?” I doubted. “None.” “You’re a liar.” “I’m shocked you would even say that to me, Florence.” He always shot me this cheeky look whenever he called me Florence, and it was amplified whenever he said my full name, but I didn’t hate it as much when he said it. His voice could make all words sound inviting and lovely. “I’m not going to let off until you tell me.” I shrugged. “C’mon. I even gave you an example, and it was embarrassing. You owe me.” He chuckled quietly, seeming a little shy all of a sudden. It was weird to see him blushing and looking ruffled, it was extremely out of character for him, but it suited him just as much as his obscene confidence did. I’d been discovering his layers, and each single one of them was wonderful. I’d yet to find a fault in him and it was slightly baffling. Not that a fault would be a bad thing, faults were normal, humane, and he seemed to be lacking them. He was a vision, in every way. “Flowers.” He simply replied. “I really like flowers.” “So you buy a girl flowers?” “I would, yeah. If I had someone to buy flowers for, I would.” “And why do you like flowers so much?” “How can you not like flowers?” He screeched. “They’re just beautiful. When I was little, every year on my birthday, I’d go on a walk with my dad, and we’d pick all different types of flowers until we had a really big bunch, and then we’d take it back and give them to my mum. Kinda like a thank you.” “A thank you? On your birthday?” “Y’know, like, thanks for my life and stuff.” “That’s adorable.” “I loved it.” “Then why did you stop?” I questioned. “One year my dad was really ill, he had cancer so…” He cleared his throat. “So we couldn’t do it because he was really weak. That was when I was twelve. And… I dunno. We just never did it again. He was upset because we couldn’t go. I think it left a sour taste in his mouth.” Opening up to one another in the way we had been doing over the past few days still felt slightly taboo. I knew our original plan to cut ties in January had been discarded, but it still felt like we shouldn’t be getting ourselves in too deep. I loved sharing with him, and hearing about him. I felt like I could be totally honest and real with Harry, and it was great, but I still felt like we were getting too involved sometimes. I was becoming increasingly attached to him. “That’s a shame.” I swallowed. “Maybe you should go on your own. Pick flowers for both of them. Maybe that’ll get rid of the sour taste.” “Maybe.” He smiled. “I’m glad he’s okay!” I added. “He’s a trooper. He’ll get through anything will that man.” “I guess you learnt from him then.” His brows lowered, automatically questioning what I was referring to, which I knew he would. That’s when I realised Harry did have a fault, one I was conscious of. He was completely unaware of his strength, and his allure. “What?” He puzzled. “You go through something really horrible most nights, and you’re still wonderful. You’re still happy and charismatic and you don’t let it eat you alive. I like that about you. You’re strong, to be the way you are and to not let it drag you down or… consume you. I guess it was his influence. Makes me excited to meet him.” No one had ever seen Harry during one of his dreams before, so maybe no one else understood it as much as I did. The way he dealt with it was truly admirable, and he probably hadn’t been told it before. He seemed a little stuck for words, pink flourishing his cheeks as he innocently accepted my words. “I guess.” He mumbled. “I know.” I closed. “So what’s your favourite flower then?” He looked up to me then, staring across the table to me, his normal confidence returning. He grinned before he spoke. “Dunno. Kind of been warming to sunflowers recently.” 35 Despite the fact we were midway through a crossword puzzle, and the cluttering of the train as it sped to Harry’s hometown, and the absurdly bright lights that beamed an unflattering glow, I had managed to fall asleep with my head on Harry’s shoulder. He was gently whispering my name, but it was enough to wake me for some reason. I think since we’d started spending our nights together, I was always just kind of waiting for him to wake me up. I never fully let myself be dragged into a deep sleep because I was just waiting to hear him, waiting for his cries. I guess that’s why it was so easy for him to wake me with his gentle voice. “Mm.” I murmured, eyes still closed, rubbing my heavy head over his shoulder. “We’re the next stop.” He told me. “M’happy here.” “Your mascara has smudged a little.” “Do I look like a panda?” I stuck out my bottom lip. “I said a little, not that someone has painted your face during the nap.” “I look like a panda, don’t I?” “A cute one.” I giggled, finally lifting my head from his shoulder and rubbing under my eyes with the backs of my fingers, my eyes uneasily adjusting to the bright light as I yawned, having a hard time coming to terms with the fact I was awake. “Time is it?” I questioned. “Nearly one.” “Fuck. I’m knackered.” “My house is only a five minute walk from the station. We’ll be in bed soon, I promise.” My mind quickly bounced to the fact that I’d be experiencing Harry’s dream in a room I wasn’t familiar with, possibly within ear shot of a family I hadn’t met, and wouldn’t meet until the morning. I knew that would make a difference to how I dealt with it, how I felt about it. I knew I was in for a rough night, and I was dreading it already. I didn’t want to say that to him, or even imply at all that I wasn’t entirely excited to clamber into bed with him again. He hated them and he hated having me there witnessing them, and I didn’t need to make that worse for him. He probably knew I struggled with it, his tired eyes got to witness my blatant distress whenever I was finally able to wake him, so he must have known that it pained me to see him in that state. It just wasn’t something we needed to discuss. I looked out of the window and noticed that the countryside was rapidly disappearing, making way for cosy homes with their lights off, dull streetlamps and empty tree branches stretching up to the sky. We’d finally arrived. I quickly got up, standing on my tiptoes and trying to retrieve our things, but doing a relatively rubbish job. Harry stood with me and assisted almost instantly, smiling dumbly to himself. “You nervous?” I asked him as he passed me my bag. “Not yet. They’ll be asleep so nothing to worry about tonight.” “Will you be nervous tomorrow?” “I don’t think so.” He said as we started to shuffle down the train. “I think they’ll be able to see how great you are, so it’s not much of an issue.” “Fingers crossed. I’m a bit worried.” “Don’t be. We’ll be fine.” I knew we’d be fine, if we could get through it with my parents I imagined we could definitely do it with his, because from what I’d heard they were lovely. I just so desperately wanted them to like me, not even just because they thought we were in a relationship. I wanted them to like me for me, to think I was a nice person. I was getting worked up already. We jumped off the train once it had come to a halt, and I was still kind of yawning and tripping over myself as we began our short journey, buttoning my coat up in the hope of keeping out the cold, but it didn’t do a great job. I started falling behind pretty quickly. “Harry!” I cried. “Sorry.” He chuckled, halting for a second so I could catch up. “I’ve got little dinky legs compared to your ridiculous trees-” “Trees?” He shrieked. “-so you have to accommodate to my needs. That’s what a good boyfriend would do.” He stopped dead in his tracks then, mouth dropped open as he looked to me with nothing but true offence in his eyes. “Are you saying I’m a bad boyfriend?” “I may have been implying it.” “Fuck you, Valentine.” He said, grabbing my hand and intertwining our fingers. “I’m a fantastic boyfriend.” “Why are we holding hands?” “Because I’m a great boyfriend, and now I can’t get too far ahead, can I?” He took off again, pretty much dragging me with him but he had a huge smile on his face, and so did I. We wandered to his home as quickly as we could without our grips ever detaching, happily chattering into the deserted streets, somehow feeling incredibly safe even though it was so late and so eerily quiet. It seemed like a really nice area for one, but I also think it was just having Harry’s hand linked so sweetly with my own. He made me feel comfortable. He made me feel safe. “This is me!” He said, nodding towards a house to our right. It was a semi-detached home, a perfectly normal house, one that I warmed to automatically. It just looked nice. It looked like a happy family lived in there. We walked down the path, Harry pulling a lone key from the inside pocket of his jacket, and we let ourselves inside. I tripped over the slight raise of the door frame as we walked inside, Harry laughing and shushing me at the same time, automatically removing his shoes and adding them to an already substantial pile, so I did the same thing. I took my opportunity to glance around the hallway we had entered, quickly eyeing up everything before we went straight to bed. The stairs were right ahead of us, and the wall they were pressed to was completely covered. There was an array of family pictures, art, lamps, paintings and small posters. It was absolutely littered and completely random but totally organised, a sharp contrast to the blank wall across from it. It looked wonderful. Harry had mentioned his dad worked in interior design, and seeing just the hall of his home was enough proof of that. “I love this.” I whispered, spotting a picture of a young Harry in his school uniform. “We’ll explore tomorrow.” He said. “Let’s get some sleep.” As quietly as we could, we wandered upstairs, brushing past a few closed doors before we walked into his room. It was bright white, almost too white. Before he’d even flicked his lamp on it was hurting my eyes. Everything was weirdly organised. He had three movie posters in frames perfectly aligned over the top of his bed. The Shining, Star Wars, and The Breakfast Club. He had a white desk too, everything down to his pencils neat on top of it, a Mac laptop closed and lined up perfectly. His bedsheets were the only obvious burst of colour, a deep purple. “You a fan of white?” I sniggered as he wandered to what I predicted was his side of the bed, flicking on the lamp that was on the white stand beside it. “Um… It used to be blue.” He admitted. “Once the dreams… started getting worse… I couldn’t…. I couldn’t deal with it. Just painted over it with the only paint we had in the house.” “Oh.” I shuddered. “That’s… Fuck.” He shrugged, unbuttoning his shirt and preparing himself for another night of uneasy sleep. Wishing I’d kept my mouth shut, I began to undress too, feeling a little more self-conscious since we were in a place I’d never been before. “Can I borrow a t-shirt?” I asked. He pulled open the drawer of the cabinet with the lamp on, throwing me the first thing he grabbed without questioning why I wanted some clothes on this time round when we’d been so incredibly open about our bodies the day before. I liked that he didn’t question it. When I got down to my knickers and bra, I finally looked at the t-shirt, grinning at the sight. “Didn’t have you down as a Joy Division fan.” “Why’s that?” “Can’t believe you actually have taste.” “Fuck you.” He chuckled again. “Always so mean to me.” He got into bed as I pulled it over my head, rushing to join him, wishing he would be a little calmer if he was in his own home, but I wasn’t really sure it would make a difference, I was just being hopeful. I snuggled in happily, turning on my side so I was facing him, and he turned to face me, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath in. I knew he was going to say something, and my eyes were sparkling as I waited for his words. “Please bring me back to the white room.” He whispered, tucking the sheets up more. “Please bring me back to you.” He sounded so sad, the thought of another trying evening already tainting the happy boy who I got to spend my days with. It hurt. “I promise.” I whispered back. I watched him as he drifted off, whispering his name a few times to confirm he was asleep. I just wanted to see him in his initial stages of slumber, just as proof that even though it was temporary, he could sleep calmly. It was nice to see him like that, his lips all puffy and his cheek squished against the pillow and absolutely nothing in the world bothering him. It was impermanent, but it was there, and it was incredibly soothing to see.