Breakfast
Night by night
I let you eat me alive
I want you to eat me alive
-- Glass Animals, Your Love (Déjà Vu)
Back in the room, he crawled into his old spot, adjusting Laith’s arm over his shoulders, similar to how it’d been before. Regardless of what Emily had said, the fact of the matter was that Laith was here with him. Not in her apartment, not in Ryan’s bed, not in the club with some stranger—with him. Right now, he had to celebrate that. It was easy to forget how much he actually had when his eyes were always on the prize, always wanting more. Sometimes, he had to look back and appreciate how far he’d come. A week ago, he would’ve never imagined cuddling Laith like this. It’d seemed like an impossibility.
Despite not being tired, he managed to fall asleep. It was a short nap, or it felt like one. Movement woke him up soon enough, the rocking of a ship, turning to the side. Something touched his face, soft like a pillow, warm. When he breathed, his lungs filled with amber. He pictured Laith on a ship, leaning against the taffrail with a pirate hat and a white blouse on, unlaced at the chest. The way he crossed his arms squeezed his pecs together, puffy sleeves, sun shining over his skin.
A hand ran up Theodore’s back, palm flat over his shirt, riding it at the bottom. Fingers brushed hair out of his face as the very top of his head received a kiss. Decently awake now, he opened his eyes. The only thing he could see was Laith’s chest, and with his nose buried in it, he let his eyes close again—seeing was pointless. He touched Laith’s back with a hand, feeling the pattern etched into the leather, the three-headed snake. No thoughts formed in his mind, blank with peace, lungs big in his chest.
“Good morning.” Laith’s voice, spoken into his hair, was almost as quiet as silence itself, as if trying not to break it.
In response, Theodore placed a kiss between Laith’s pecs, then another on the collar of his shirt, and another one further up, this time on his skin. He trailed up Laith’s neck, kissing over the fern leaf, all the way to his jaw. Still in Laith’s hold, the arm that once held him across the waist now rested over his hips, fingers touching the waistband of his pants. He opened his eyes to the sight of two emeralds staring back at him. “Good morning.”
The smile on Laith’s face was quickly covered up by a kiss.
He wasn’t sure what it was that did it, his eagerness or his interest, but Laith rolled on top of him and deepened the kiss, open-mouthed and messy. It traveled straight between his legs. That happened to anything Laith did though, be it effortless or thoughtful, or in this case, something so practiced that Theodore couldn’t even tell. His hands pushed the jacket off Laith’s shoulders, dog tags brushing him on the chest, hanging between them. Laith didn’t immediately take it off, but slipped a hand under Theodore’s shirt instead, feeling him up. Goosebumps followed his every move, palm warm on Theodore’s skin, soft over his stomach. It ran up to his chest and grabbed it, thumb swiping over his nipple. That surprised him—his body jerked a bit, but since he managed to keep quiet about it, he hoped Laith wouldn’t notice.
A much more pronounced tug on Laith’s jacket got the response Theodore had been looking for. Laith begrudgingly pulled away and knelt between Theodore’s legs, chest puffed out, hair a stylish mess. With two shrugs, the jacket slipped down his arms. In the meantime, Theodore made himself useful and took his own shirt off, tossing it aside. By the time his head was free again, he caught sight of Laith doing the same, skin soft under the glow of the daylight, dog tags glistening over his breast. Theodore only managed to get one good look in before Laith was back on him again, kissing down his neck. Then again, one good look was all he needed.
Teeth tugged on his skin as a hand popped the button on his pants, not as a distraction, but to save time. He got that as soon as Laith pulled his pants off, eager to get going, biting into his neck. That brought him back to last week, the bite when Laith had pushed inside him—that memory shook his shoulders with a shiver. God, he wanted it; he’d wanted it ever since. Hwan and Marquis had been good, but the experience had been different, impersonal, too far from what he actually craved, from what he needed. Once his pants hit the floor, Laith pulled his boxers down.
“Give me a hickey.” That was supposed to be a request, but it did not come out as one. It almost sounded bitchy.
Luckily, Laith didn’t mind it, grinning into his skin. “You want a hickey—is that what I heard?” His voice was so low it resembled a growl, hands tossing Theodore’s boxers off the bed.
He swallowed. “Yeah.”
***
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***
A hand brushed some hair out of his forehead, slick with sweat, glued to his skin. When the kiss broke, their eyes met.
“God, I love waking up with you.”
That comment tugged his lips into a smile, heart wrapped in velvet. He knew that wasn’t as sweet as it’d sounded, that Laith had meant he liked fucking him first thing in the morning, but it still warmed him up inside.
“Who did you fuck last week?”
And just like that, his blood turned cold. Shock widened his eyes, body petrified, unable to move. He couldn’t even think of a reply, because all that ran through his mind was how did he know? Hwan and Marquis hadn’t left a single mark on him.
His reaction cut a smirk across Laith’s face. “So I’m right.” Laith pulled away, moving to leave the bed. “That explains why you were so easy today.”
That slipped a hand down Theodore’s throat and manually pulled all breath out of his lungs. Still in shock, he moved to a sitting position, aided by a hand against the mattress. It propped him up. “Is it bad?”
“Of course not.” Laith redid his own pants, perfectly nonchalant. His tone was as conversational as if they spoke of breakfast. “Just means I could really give it to you this time.”
Heat burned through his face. Speechless, all he could do was watch Laith get dressed.
“Have breakfast with me?”
Laith’s question almost failed to register in his brain.
“Yeah, I just need a minute,” he practically stuttered.
“Alright. I’ll be in the kitchen.” With that, Laith left the room.
In a daze, Theodore grabbed some tissues from the nightstand and wiped himself down. So he’d been easy, huh… What did that mean? Hwan hadn’t mentioned a thing. It might just be the difference between his very first time and any other time after that. Since Hwan had only slept with him once, he didn’t have a frame of reference. How come Laith knew he’d slept with someone else instead of this just being the byproduct of sleeping with him the first time? How could he tell? It could’ve been a shot in the dark, but it’d been such a bullseye. Theodore’s cheeks burned.
He needed a shower.
Throwing the used tissues in the trash, he caught sight of the condom—it wasn’t smart to leave it in there, under the desk. What if somebody saw it? He didn’t know who would be rummaging through the trash in his room, but paranoid about the possibility, he took the trashcan with him.
Outside his room, he had a view of the entire hallway, which allowed him to catch sight of both Daisy and Nadia sitting at the counter, facing the kitchen. The girls talked; he could hear their voices, a jumbled mess muffled under the scream that echoed in his skull—they were in the kitchen. Laith was in the kitchen. They were in the kitchen with Laith. What were they talking about? Why were they laughing? He froze three steps away from his own door, clutching the trashcan to his crotch. His mind could barely even process the fact he was completely naked.
Daisy absently passed him a glance. She had a big grin on her face, seemingly on the verge of more laughter. Somehow, he knew they were talking about him. “Well, look who decided to show up. Did Laith eat your clothes too?” There was humor in her voice, friendly teasing. It still curdled his blood into ice though, even if her joke had been harmless, in good fun—he felt targeted. He could picture it just fine, Laith telling them about him, making them laugh. The girls snickered in response to Daisy’s comment, sending his pulse flying—he couldn’t be here anymore. Caught in the hallway like a deer in headlights, he rushed into the bathroom and locked himself in.
What had Laith told them? The possibilities were so harrowing that breath failed him completely, coming in short gasps. His arms felt like jelly; the trashcan slipped from under them and fell on the floor. The world darkened at the edges, growing more intense with his light-headedness, ears muffled. His forearms met with the counter and held him up, head hanging low, practically in the sink. He panted.
What were they saying about him? The snickering at Daisy’s little remark was very incriminating; he couldn’t picture a scenario where they weren’t talking about him. Laith must have told them what had just happened. With his eyes closed, he breathed. No more thoughts, nothing on his mind, just a very conscious attempt at calming down. His arms shook.
When his head was no longer lighter than air and his legs didn’t feel like dropping him to the floor, he moved to glance at the mirror. He looked like shit, as pale as death itself with huge bags under his eyes and hair messier than the result of a hurricane, matted with sweat. Low on his neck, near his collar bone, was a colossal hickey the color of an ugly bruise. Was that what Daisy had joked about? At least it’d be easy to cover up; a hoodie would do wonders.
After the shower, he wrapped a towel around himself and fled down the hallway. The goal was to be so fast that no one would see him do it. He didn’t look back to make sure of that. Disappointment wasn’t an option.
Locked in his room, he put on his skinny jeans, a t-shirt and the black hoodie from Diesel. The hood itself was big and fluffy, and the way it fell over his neck covered the majority of it, hickey included. Next, he fixed his hair, combing it first, then running his fingers through, so it wouldn’t look too perfect. He knew Laith didn’t use a comb at all, hair too straight to get tangled up, but that wasn’t his reality. In decent shape, he took a big breath and left the room.
Daisy and Nadia went back and forth between the counter and the dining table, bringing huge containers full of food, plates, glasses and silverware to the dining room.
As Theodore approached, he could make out the conversations going on inside the kitchen itself, their thoughts on diner food versus restaurant food. It didn’t really matter exactly—the point was that they weren’t speaking about him anymore.
In the kitchen, he saw Hannah drying her hands on a dishrag, Jessie wiping the oven clean and Laith closing a couple of overhead cabinets, the ones everybody had trouble reaching, except for him, apparently. They all glanced at him as soon as he approached, conversation momentarily suspended. The girls both grinned while Laith glanced him down. “You look nice.”
The compliment lit his face like a furnace, genuine in the soft tone of Laith’s voice, a quiet observation. If Theodore commented on it, he’d only make it worse for himself, so he decided to go with something else, despite how much it was appreciated. “How can I help?”
“We got it,” Daisy informed him from the counter, picking up the last of the glasses there. “You can all come over now.”
Since the table only had five chairs, the girls had brought one of the stools, lowered all the way down, to make for a sixth seat. Since Nadia was the shortest of them, she took it.
At one in the afternoon, this was lunch rather than breakfast. They passed each other bowls of pasta and cartons of juice, talking of random topics that Theodore barely paid attention to. What mattered was that they didn’t speak of him, or Laith, or what they had together. Every time someone opened their mouth, his heart jumped with the fear that they’d bring any of that up, but they never did.
The friendly atmosphere was very surprising, with none of the judgment he’d expected out of this encounter—the girls meeting a rat. It was true they knew Hwan and the others, but those two groups weren’t very close, while Laith was a recurring appearance. Theodore knew he’d been a topic of conversation while in the shower, but other than that, he had no idea what else they’d discussed. If they’d gotten to the point of frivolities, then that meant all the personal stuff was out of the way. Laith’s dodgy answers must not have yielded the girls much information, though, only the illusion of getting to know him. Still, it must have been good enough if they’d moved on from that.
Once everyone had finished eating, the girls began the process of taking everything back to the kitchen. Hannah and Jessie only helped with the transportation, not the actual washing, since they’d cooked. Those were the rules—they got to rest now, sitting on the couch, watching TV. They invited Laith to join them, but he informed the room that he was on his way out.
Theodore promptly halted at the kitchen archway and turned to face him, dirty plates in hand. “Why? You can stay. You can’t—you can’t be busy on a Sunday.”
“No, but I need to go home. I need a change of clothes, at the very least.”
“I’m sure Theo has something that could fit you,” Jessie tried.
“Thanks, but that’s really not the point.”
“Then I’m coming with you.” Theodore set the plates on the counter, eyes fixed on Laith. “If you’ll let me.”
“I mean…” Laith cocked his head aside. “I guess.”
“You’re not skipping the dishes,” Daisy stated, elbows-deep in the sink.
“Yeah, that’s fair. I’ll just wait for you downstairs,” Laith suggested, taking a couple of steps toward the door.
“Will we see you again?” Hannah’s tone was difficult to read, not mournful or poignant. It didn’t imply that she’d miss him in any way, far more concerned that he’d slip into the shadows again, an unknown figure that continued to roam her home.
“Oh, yeah. I’ll be around.”
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