tired yet? ||cashby||

Chapter 11

Rustling sounds came from the front of my room. Groaning quietly, I sat up and rubbed my tired eyes. My bedside clock brightly read 6:23. The room was shrouded in darkness, shadows swallowing me whole, and I watched in confusion as my door peeked open.
Austin slipped inside, closing it behind him. I could only see him for the stray patch of moonlight fallen across his form, his tall, gorgeous silhouette against my bedroom wall.

"Alan!" he whisper-yelled. My foggy brain tried to make words as he found his way to my bed in the darkness.

"W-what?" I mumbled, shreds of dreams sliding back under my eyelids, fighting to take me back to unconsciousness.

"I couldn't sleep," he replied. His words dissolved in the air above my bed. "The couch was too cold."

"Wanna lay down?" I mumbled, barely opening my lips. He didn't answer, just crawled into bed with me. I should've been more aware then, but, honestly, I was so dead tired. Sluggishly, I pulled the blanket up and wrapped it around his shoulders, which were much farther up than mine due to his ridiculous height. My nose only reached up to his collarbone. His hands pulled me closer, and I felt him press a kiss to the side of my head.

"Are you warm enough now?" My words slurred together, and he chuckled.

"Yeah," Austin whispered, molding his body against mine.

"Mmkay," I murmured, slipping away slowly. He ducked his head into the crook of my neck, and I fell back to sleep with the sound of his shallow breaths.

•••

Upon waking 4 hours later, I found myself alone in bed. Sadly, I looked all around, and groaned, my head falling back against the pillow.

"It was just a stupid dream," I sighed. Eyes gazing all around, though, they landed on my camera, which sat on my desk with a picture sticking out of the slot. Groggily, I stretched and walked over, picking it out. The image was of my window, leaking morning light and sending a dark grey-blue color all across the walls. My room was absolutely bathed in it, painting everything in a picturesqueness. It occurred to me then that Austin must've taken this one while I was asleep, and it was confirmed when I looked down on my desk.
Underneath, a stack of photos sat.

"Oh, my god," I mumbled. "It was real." The very first one was of me and Austin, our lips molded together and eyes closed, wrapped in a passionate kiss. Quickly, I looked through the rest of them, remembering each and every instance, details of the night flooding my brain. The next was more fun, us grinning at each other and touching the tips of our tongues together in a cute, couple-y way.
Grinning, I felt warmth pulse through me. There were more, some of just him smiling or making serious faces, looking extremely handsome. One was seemingly taken without warning, him just looking at the camera with a curious, intrigued face.
My gut swam with butterflies, and I quickly hid the photos in a box under my bed, then scampered up the stairs.

The whole upper floor was covered in deflated balloons, empty cups, and sagging decorations. For some reason, I thought it looked even better this way than it had last night. It was almost difficult to believe the grad party had been less than 24 hours ago.
Everything seemed so much farther away than that. Michael and Austin sat up in the family room, facing the TV. I couldn't see his face, only the back of their heads, as a football game played across the screen.

"Get it!" Michael yelled, sitting on the edge of his seat. Austin was jeering at the team as well, in a very masculine way. It made warm tingles crawl up my legs, listening to his deep voice shout at the TV.

"Are you kidding me?" he cried, watching a fumble or something transpire. I had no idea what was going on in the game, but I stood frozen and watched as he groaned and hurled out insults at the players.