roommates ♢ muke ✔️

xiv

"you should really take a break," michael comments casually as he crams a mouthful of chips into his wide mouth.

"not until i'm done," i reply firmly.

my head is lowered until my nose is almost grazing onto the paper. the pen hangs tiredly in my hand. my writing is messy and sloppy; i'm too tired to improve it.

i sneeze loudly and sniffle as i feel a pounding headache start. just as i thought, i caught michael's cold.

even though the room is sickeningly hot, i can't help but shiver as a cold chill passes through my body.

"you need rest," michael states firmly as he takes away my lined paper. he snatches the pen from me as well.

"it's due today," i sniff tiredly.

"i'll do it for you," michael offers. "you just lie down on the couch and i'll make you some hot tea."

i start to protest but i realize that michael won't care. he's already making himself useful, boiling a kettle of water on the stove and grabbing the biggest, warmest blanket in our dorm room.

he tucks me in before ruffling my hair and offering me a sip of my favourite ginger lemon tea. he even remembered to add my spoonful of honey.

"i'm not tired," i say stubbornly as i try to get up.

michael shakes his head and forces me to sit down. "sleep, you need it. i'll sit here the whole time. i promise."

i pour my lip to argue but michael grabs my arm and pulls up my sleeve. he clicks on the pen and starts doodling on my arm.

based off the fact that he's an art major, i can only assume that he's drawing some sort on intricate masterpiece.

i yawn. i find myself slipping into michael's arm as my eyes flutter shut. the peaceful sensation of ink rolling onto my skin and michael's steady breathing lulls me into a deep sleep.

-

when my blue eyes snap open again, the dorm room is pitch black. michael was sitting next to me, staring at me. he didn't leave, just like he promised.

in the dark, his pale green eyes seem to glow.

"welcome back sleepy head," michael teases in his raspy voice.

"what time is it?" i question as i look around to see the time.

"around eight in the evening," michael fights back a smile as he drops the black pen onto the coffee table.

the pen! i nearly forgot that michael was drawing on my arm as i slept.

it's much too dark in the living room so i rush up to the washroom to see what he drew.

i expect something gorgeous; maybe a self portrait of myself or a delicate sunset. something detailed and thoughtful.

i turn on the bathroom light and the dim light flickers before turning on properly. i blink to clear my vision and i squint at my arm unsurely.

there's hundreds of little black etchings on my arm. from my wrist, all the way to my biceps.

i look harder at the small detailed art and my mouth drops. and not in the good way.

michael has drew hundreds of tiny detailed dicks on me.

-

qotd: how old are you all?