Wanna watch TV?Mature

Lucas

After a while, Damien comes back, looking kinda annoyed, but too dopey to be properly annoyed. If that makes sense.

"Campbell wouldn't tell me why you wanna be called Lucas," he says with a sulky face, standing at the end of my bed. Well duh.

"It's kind of not his place to tell you, dumb ass." He shrugs, shoving his hands in his pockets. I take a good look at what he's wearing, since he's one of the few not wearing one of those stupid gowns in this place. I think he's still wearing his pyjamas, actually. Just baggy, grey sweat pants and a white shirt with a hoodie over it. His hoodie isn't zipped up, and his face is a little flushed, which means he's either too hot, but won't take it off, or whatever it is that he's been put on just makes him have this kind of permanent blush.

I'm going to go with the first one.

"You look like you're kinda hot in that," I mutter, "why don't you take it off and cool down a bit?" He flashes me this look that says... well, I don't know what it says exactly, but I understand. He's not gonna take it off any time soon, and not for any reason, or for any one. "Whatever. You stand there and boil. See if I care."

There's an awkward pause that hangs between us, the silence between us like a heavy blanket. He looks down at his feet, shuffling a little on the grey linoleum beneath us. He looks kinda cute like that, actually. He might be weird, and have issues, but he's not exactly bad looking. Even with a few days' worth of stubble clinging stubbornly to his face. Actually, that probably makes him look better, if anything.

And it makes me incredibly jealous. It's not that I want a beard, but I just don't even have the option to have one or not. An option I want so fucking badly.

He tears his eyes off the floor again and distracts me from my angst with just a few words.

"Wanna watch TV together? You must be pretty fucking bored." I shrug. Why not? I watch him as he pulls the TV on its stand across the room to the end of my bed. He moves up to the side of my bed and sits in that chair, craning his neck to see. I don't know what possesses me to say it, but the words slip out from between my lips before I even realise they're gone.

"Why don't you sit up here with me?" I ask, shifting up to give him room.

He doesn't hesitate, he just climbs up into the skinny bed with me. We fit perfectly like that.

 

The End

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