Beautiful Images ::VHope::

Welcome Back

Day 1

I hum calmly, carefully making pancakes for breakfast. I have bacon in the oven,and bowls with fruit for toppings. I try to make everything in this apartment feel welcoming. I want it to feel like he will want to live here, too. I sit at the table, tapping my foot. It's 8:30,he should be waking up by now. At least, he's usually awake. I frown, heading to the bedroom. I push open the bedroom door, peeking inside. HoSeok lays on the bed, engulfed in a comforter. The only thing that pokes out is his hair near the top of the bed. I smile, walking into the room. I run fingers in his hair, whispering to him to wake him up.

"HoSeok, baby." I lean down close to slowly remove the blanket. "I made breakfast for you." I feel pride in waking him up, waking him up with voice control. His head pokes out, a sleepy smile painted across his face. I smile, too, unable to handle how much I love him.

"Breakfast?" He asks. I nod.

"Pancakes, and bacon, and fruit." I reply. He smiles again.

"Whipped cream?" He looks at me quizzically.

"In the fridge." I help to completely unwrap him. And he skips off the the direction of food. I laugh after him. He piles food onto his plate, seemingly not caring how much he eats today. It makes me happy. It's the way that he normally is. For a second I believe that everything is getting better already, but that thought fades quickly as I notice HoSeok hesitate halfway trough eating. I set my coffee down, tilting my head.

"Is something wrong?" I ask him. He shakes his head, but immediately runs to the bathroom. I pretend I don't hear him making himself sick. I stare at the food left on his plate, and sigh.

Day 2

HoSeok skipped classes even though I told him he shouldn't. He doesn't seem to care anymore. I fought with him about keeping the wine in the fridge, yet he laughed in my face and took it anyway. He's being rude; he's acting childish.

He dances in the living room, but I'm not too focused on watching him. He's drunk and honestly pissing me off. I understand. I really, honestly understand that this is a relapse for him. A relapse into a dark place. I sympathize with him on that level, but the wilder he gets, the more I want to kick him out of my house. I shake my head, and continue cleaning the living room.

HoSeok flops onto the couch, his cheeks flushed with alcohol he drank too much of. I scold him for jumping on the furniture and he just laughs at me. He's testing me. A few minutes pass, and the frustration that I feel is filling the room rapidly. I know that he can feel it. He moans softly, making me turn around. His back arches slightly as he pulls down his pants. I stare at him, frowning.

"Baby, what are you doing?" I ask him, setting down the duster. He laughs, a faint glimmer of tears in his eyes. He looks up at me, pulling up his shirt to expose his toned tummy. My eyes flash down to look at his boxer briefs for only a moment before meeting his eyes again. "HoSeok." I whisper, shaking my head.

"I already know you want to." He says calmly. He's not wrong. I would love to take his offer, but not because I am a creepy guy. I love him, and I'll admit to myself that I do want to have lots of sex with this boy. I want to for the rest of my life, just not when he's heartbroken and drunk. Not with tears running down his cheeks. "You can touch me." He offers, similar to the way he offered during my rage. It hurts to hear him say that, and I wonder how many boys have heard these exact words. I shake my head, not really wanting to know the answer to that.

"Baby, I don't need to touch you." I say softly, sitting beside his legs. He whines, repositioning himself on the sofa in an attempt to entice me more. I shake my head. He stretches his legs across me. "You're upset, and I get that. You're drunk, so you can try all you want, but I'm not like other guys." I look over at him, finalizing my choice. His tear filled eyes stare back at me for a while before a fake smile spreads on his face. He sits up, crawling across the floor until he sits between my legs. His fingers slowly trace up to the button on my jeans.