After about twenty minutes, the floor becomes uncomfortable and Joe stands, wiping furiously at the tear tracks on his cheeks. He looks at his bed and realizes that he had been in it less than an hour ago, getting fucked by Connor. The sheets seem to mock him, soiled with lubricant and his own come. Anger still bubbling beneath his skin, he rips the sheets off, throws them on the ground, and kicks them under the bed. He flips off the lights with shaking hands and crawls onto his bare mattress.
Everything is cold and hard.
And empty. The room is so empty.
Joe doesn't know if Caspar will come back tonight and he hates that it bothers him so much. Usually, Caspar would either tell him he would be returning or that he'd be staying at Tyler's. Either way, Joe hasn't slept alone in a bed, any bed, in over a month. If Caspar didn't come back, he'd sneak into Connor's room late at night and snuggle into his warmth. He hated sleeping alone now. He'd been completely spoiled.
That's when the painful realization hits him; Joe does the same thing that Caspar does.
If Caspar wasn't going to come home, Joe would turn to Connor.
If Caspar was hanging out with Tyler after class, Joe would turn to Connor.
If Caspar went to a movie with Tyler, Joe would curl up in Connor's arms and they'd watch a movie in one of their dorm rooms.
If Connor was busy studying, Joe would stay in with Caspar.
But he had never turned to Connor when he and Caspar had an argument. Then again, they never really argued much. It's a foreign, uncomfortable feeling that settles in the pit of his stomach when he notices how depressed he feels not knowing if Caspar will return.
Joe hates it, he hates it so much. He hates how Caspar causes all of his emotions to jump to the most intense ends of the spectrum. With Caspar, Joe's never just happy, he's ecstatic. With Caspar, Joe's never just mad, he's livid with rage. With Caspar, Joe's never just sad, he feels like curling in the fetal position and crying for a week. Everything is so much more.
And god, when Caspar touches him, Joe goes mad with desire. The word lust is an understatement and all he wants is moremoremore than he had a second before. Caspar takes him to a new high with every warm breath, every soft sigh, every single kiss.
Joe bites his lip to keep his scream from sounding in their room. Through watery eyes he stares at Caspar's empty bed and he remembers throwing Caspar's pillow on the floor.
He slides out of bed and moves over towards the door in the dark. The soft, plushy pillow hits his foot and Joe picks it up. He dusts it off.
And clutches it to his chest, burying his face into the cool material as the tears continue to pour from his eyes.
He's been crying for the past half hour.
Sniffling, pillow still in his arms, he climbs into Caspar's bed.
Everything is warm and safe and familiar here, Joe thinks. Caspar is everywhere here. Curling around the pillow, Joe tugs Caspar's blanket up over his shivering body and up to his nose.
He wants Caspar to come back.
The door opens.
"Joe?"
Relief floods through him and the tension falls away when he hears Caspar's voice. Joe cries loudly and he hears Caspar's quick footsteps on the floor and then he's there, he's right there on the edge of the bed so Joe twists his fingers into the material of Caspar's pants and just holds on.
Caspar responds in kind, toeing his shoes off and sliding under the blankets. It's like they're holding the pillow together but Caspar reaches around it to pull Joe closer. He presses his forehead to Joe's as Joe smothers his cries into the pillow.
