Chapter 7

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All Sullivan could feel was soft fur, his hand unconsciously gripping and releasing the coat, reminding him of the stray cats around the trailer. Then that feeling disappeared, and out of nowhere an unfamiliar presence gently lifted Sullivan from the dirt, cradling him as if he were glass, so fragile that he could break at any moment. He leaned his head against the stranger's shoulder.

   Walking with careful steps, the figure navigated the woodlands, their strides purposeful yet tender. Each footfall was a whisper, a promise to keep him undisturbed, to float away from the pain for a little while.

****

   Sullivan began to stir awake, due to a few things.

He felt sick, his head ached.

His chest throbbed and stung.

Mouth, bone dry, like a hot summer afternoon.

His green eyes fluttered open,

'Where am I?' Was the first thing that he thought of as his eyes scanned the unfamiliar room.

   He looked around the bedroom that is stacked with boxes, some opened and some still taped shut. Gold medals and posters hung on the wall by nails or tacks; most were bands he was unfamiliar with. On the right side of the bed, beside the bedroom door, there is black dresser, adorned with different sized trophies on top.  In the corner there is a black desk with a laptop along with a couple of books and journals opened messily on top. Beside the desk, on the floor, was a stack of journals.  Across the foot of the bed stood a black bookcase full of... well... more books.

   'That's a lot of books.' Sullivan couldn't help but think, compared to the books he has at home, that he continuously read over and over again.

   Black curtains hung from a sliding window on the left side of the bed; the curtains flowed inward slightly from the cool breeze. It was still nighttime, the redhead noticed. 

   Sitting outside of the window on the roof was Jasper, smoking from a not surprising, black vape, puffing out little rings of smoke.

   As he took another drag from the vape, his lip's part gently, allowing a thin stream of smoke to escape. The tendrils of smoke weave and swirl around him as he takes yet another drag from the contraption. The wisps of smoke seem to caress his features, reminding Sullivan of an alluring demon, all he needed was horns and a pointy tail. 

   Jasper looked enchanting, staring up at the night sky, the smoke flowing out of his lips as he held the chemicals in before exhaling, creating an almost magical atmosphere.

   Sullivan knew that smoking is terrible for the lungs but watching Jasper inhale those toxins, the only thing he could think of was being surrounded by that thick fog.  Wondering what it felt like to inhale the deadly smoke into his lungs, damaging them in the process. Would it be as relaxing as how Jasper looked in that moment. He looked,

Magical.

Alluring.

And... Gosh... So beautiful. 

   Sullivan shook his head slightly, removing the sinful thoughts from his mind. He didn't know what was happening to him; he didn't like guys, but... For some reason, he couldn't get Jasper out of his head.

   The redhead groaned when he tried to lift himself up, the pain from his chest heightening. Only to hear movement then a thump from Jasper jumping through the window to check on Sullivan.

   "Don't move, Ivan." Jasper huffed, grabbing the redheads' shoulders, gently pushing him back into bed, smoke flowing around him as it puffed out through his nostrils, like a bull.

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