Undercover (Boyxboy)

Chapter Two

“Ethan, calm down. It’s alright. You’re dreaming.”

“Why do you sound like him? Stop it!” I roared at George.

“Ethan, wake up!” Harry’s voice came from the wrong face once again. I was getting angrier and angrier.

“STOP IT!”

I managed to break one of my hands free and punched George square in the face. His momentary shock at this allowed me to wrestle free from him and the other agents holding me down.

I didn’t even think twice. I rolled off the edge of the cliff and followed my beloved.

My eyes opened instantly. Was I in heaven? Why did heaven look like my apartment room back in the complex? Was I destined to spend eternity in this small apartment with Harry? I would take it happily.

As my groggy eyes cleared up, I began gaining some clarity. I looked to a moving figure on my ground and reached over instantly to turn on my light beside my bed. I raised my fists to the intruder but retracted when I saw Harry, rolling around clutching his nose.

“You bastard! You fucking bastard, you’ve broken my nose! The pain... The pain!” Harry’s dramatic voice rendered me speechless and my lips trembled.

It had all been a dream. The whole god-damn thing. I had thought those nightmares had ended a few weeks after our last mission – apparently something must have triggered them to return.

I was still in shock from the dream and all of the emotions I’d gone through in it were resurfacing. I started shaking, so I balled my hands into fists to try and hide it.

“Aren’t you going to help me, you son of a bitch?!” Harry was sitting in an upright position, clutching his nose that had blood pumping from it. Oh shit.

It seemed I’d just realised that Harry was in fact injured, and not just looking for attention.

“Shit, yeah, sorry. What happened?” I asked as I ran to get the first aid kit in the bottom of my wardrobe – Harry insisted we didn’t need one in the apartment but I hid one in my room for situations like this. Harry had said that if we plan for injury, we would get injured. I seriously questioned his thoughts on the world sometimes. Also, the day they were handing out first aid kits in the main lobby was the morning after he’d gone drinking, and he had too big of a hangover to get out of bed to get one.

Right now, however, he seemed more than delighted that I’d gone and gotten one. It really was stupid that every apartment wasn’t given one automatically – an argument I’d raised plenty of times with the committee. It was all a big hoax on saving money, or whatever their stupid excuses were.

“You punched me, is what happened,” Harry grumbled in reply to my question, taking a cloth I’d handed to him and pressing it against his bleeding nose. He leaned against the bed for support and leaned his head backwards.

“I punched you?” I asked incredulously. I’d been asleep – how the fuck had I punched him? A memory of the dream came back to me with that question. George, at the cliff’s edge; I’d punched him square in the face. Obviously I must have lashed out in my sleep, too.

It would also explain Harry’s voice coming out of George’s mouth.

“Yes, you punched me! You were having another nightmare – I thought those had stopped,” he squinted at me, lowering his head forward slowly. His nose wasn’t broken. He wouldn’t be able to touch it if it was, never mind apply pressure to it with a cloth. It was just another thing I loved about him; he never ceased to entertain.