Roommates

Part 5**

"Can't you take one night off?" Shawn mumbled, his mouth full of Cheerios. You contemplated putting off your paper as he shovelled the oat cereal into his mouth, a drop of milk concentrated on his lower lip.

"I mean, I guess," you spoke with a grimace, dreading the amount of work you'd have on your plate the following week.

"Lovely," he grinned widely, being careful not to let any milk spill from his mouth.

"Just, not too late, okay? Don't get mad if I nod off," you muttered, meeting his chocolate gaze from across the kitchen island.

"Come on," he groaned, throwing his head back in joking frustration. "I'll play for you while you do the work next week. You'll get it done faster."

"Actually, I won't," you giggled with a shake of your head, circling the countertop to peel the empty bowl from his fingers. "I don't work too well with music."

His mouth curved into a smirk as he watched you place his dishes in the sink, preventing him from breaking another cereal bowl. He'd already destroyed one this week, along with a wine glass. The boy was a walking disaster.

"Ever think maybe you chose the wrong person to live with, then?" he continued to grin, leaning in a little closer as you ran the tap to fill the bowl.

"You make up for it in other ways," you smiled bashfully, a pink flush creeping up your sun-kissed cheeks.

"Mm," he hummed, moving behind you and placing his large hands on your hips. His lips brushed your ear as you fumbled with the sink, knees threatening to buckle beneath his touch. "Tell me more."

"Shawn," you groaned. He was always searching for praise, wanted—needed—to hear the dirty details of the effect he had on you.

"'Shawn', eh?" he spoke lowly, a soft kiss being placed along he curve of your jaw. "That the guy who had you screaming last night?" he spoke, barely a whisper.

"Shawn!" you squealed, giving one of his hands a playful smack as you turned in his grasp.

"Sounded a little like that," he nodded with a smile. You looked up at him with a shake of your head, taking in his features. His hair was a mop of fluffy curls, wispy and awry from the sleep he'd recently woken up from. His eyes were puffy and bright, seemingly content with what was in front of them. His nose was swollen, as it was some mornings, and his lips a soft, pale pink. Stubble was growing from his chin and upper lip, a clear indication that he hadn't had the time to shave yet. The curls really got you, though. Always those damn curls.

"I'll stick around tonight. Happy?" you asked, sounding defeated.

"Mmhm," he grinned, placing his lips to your forehead.

Small acts of affection we're becoming a common occurrence in the comfort of your own home, and it really wasn't helping the no-feelings-allowed contract. How could Shawn expect you to live with him, have sex with him, spend all your time with him, and on top of that, be somewhat of his safe space? It seemed that all of his frustration and stress disintegrated in your presence. Everything work-related fell away into an insignificant abyss the second your lips touched, which unfortunately, meant things were moving into dangerous territory. Shawn was dreamy, but you feared he was too dreamy to hold up your end of the deal.

You slipped from his grip, trying to ignore that he was stifling a frown from the loss of contact.

"I'm gonna, uh," you paused, your mind going blank as you desperately wracked your brain for an excuse to get out of the apartment. "Is there, is there anything I can do? For tonight?"