Mistakes Made ✅

Chapter 14: Feelings

A/N
GUYS I AM SO SO TRULY DEEPLY SORRY FOR THE LATE UPDATE 😭

- caught up with school
- got sick the other day
- writer's block
- tryna regain self-control *glances at Troye's new music*

BUT HeY IT'S HERE WHOOP

Your comments and votes have so so so so much motivated me :'D This book has reached 1K wOULd YOu LOOK aT THaT (Man don't judge me for being happy let me live)

I love y'alllll

Enjoy c:

Never, in all of his life, had Jordie ever considered to get out of bed early on a Saturday morning. But that was merely where his cognition was trying to direct him, due to the sense of uncomfortability of being in bed with a boy who had never quite vacated his brain - and heart, for that matter.

Really, he had been awake since the crack of dawn, opening his eyes to Errol's sleeping figure right in his face. As far as he was concerned, Errol had been facing the other way when he slept during the previous night. All in all, scooting back in a haste at finding Errol's face only a few inches away from him when he woke up was a practicable reaction.

For some reason, however, Jordie couldn't find it in him to go back to sleep, nor did he feel like getting out of the bed just yet. Instead, he found himself simply staring. Not in a dazed manner as one might find themselves doing after waking up - bleary eyed and all. Rather, it was more towards gazing into Errol's considerably pristine features.

Of course, Jordie had looked into Errol's face up close before - mostly during their heated quarrels. But never this close where he could practically trace out the lines of emotions; neutral; slackened; serene. A sleeping face. One might find that Errol was fairly dashing. And he irrefutably was - Jordie couldn't deny that himself. But now he mused on whether anyone had actually observed Errol with a stress-free mien, because only now did he come to realise just how plagued the boy looked when he was awake. There was definitely a significant contrast.

His eyes glazed from Errol's golden lashes to his shut eyelids, making out the subtle movement of his eyes behind them. Left, right, up, down, right, left. For a second he pondered on what sort of dream the boy must be having. Almost unconsciously, Jordie's gaze dropped to the boy's pink chapped lips - and remained there. He simply stared at them as though they were an exotic scientific discovery, his finger gingerly tracing their outline on the mattress beneath him.

It wasn't the first time he paid attention, really.

Funny, how the people around him kept saying that time would help someone get over a person, as it would heal wounds. For a few months, Jordie had. At least that was what he'd been compelling his mind to tell him, because he was aware that the other part of him protested such conclusion. And he couldn't seem to grasp the palpable sense, especially when he saw Errol for the first time months after the boy left their old town. It had certainly driven him places, hurling his brain into a bedlam and leaving him to stew in a seemingly perpetual befuddlement.

All those verbal harassments weren't supposed to be projected at Errol. If Jordie were to admit it, he was merely taking out his trifling anger on someone who didn't deserve it, on someone who had inexorably drawn his attention, sent a cupid's arrow into his heart, all because he didn't know how to compose himself.

He doubted his obnoxious behaviours were anywhere near justifiable.

Stupid feelings, he scolded himself.

"Are you planning to watch me sleep all day?"

Almost at once, Jordie averted his gaze so he was looking at the drawn curtains behind Errol, the latter of whom was beginning to stir. "I wasn't watching you sleep," remarked Jordie, feeling his cheeks heat up.