#challenge: impossible lfmsooo

[zombiecowboy65]

1 or 15 !!

You get both because I like to yap :) prompts from this ask game

1.) “Don’t leave”

Falling asleep had not been Jeremy’s intention.

When he followed Jean into his room, he’d only meant to keep him company, to help him with his paper and English words he might need supplied. And then somehow, he’d sunk lower and lower on the bed, until he was fully horizontal, and waking up to Jean’s weight shifting the mattress.

God, what time is it? Jeremy blinks around, notes the blanket tossed over him, Jean putting his laptop away in the corner, and shifts to get up, to bid Jean good night and head back to his space on the couch.

Jean has other plans.

“Don’t leave,” he says, and with the light on like this, Jeremy can see the color that rises to his cheeks. But Jean doesn’t retract the statement, even when Jeremy blinks at him, and feels heat rise to his own face.

Instead, he clears his throat, and tries again. “I am not kicking you out,” Jean tells him. “I was just— turning off the light. This bed is big enough for the two of us, and that couch is not meant to be slept on.”

Jeremy laughs a little at the annoyance in his voice. He imagines Jean falling asleep on the couch, waking up to complain about it, and feels a swell in his chest he can’t explain.

“Yeah,” he says, “you got me there. But this is a little different than sleeping on two separate twins. Are you—?”

The look Jean gives him is answer enough.

“Okay,” Jeremy says. “Okay. I’ll stay.”

Jean nods, and then flicks off the light, and climbs under the covers. “Good night, captain,” he says.

“Good night, Jean,” he returns, but knows he won’t be getting back to sleep for some time yet.

15.) “trembling hands” / TW for violence / abuse!

Jeremy’s mouth tastes like blood.

It is the only thing he thinks about as he heads for his keys, the door, the only thing he thinks about for the entire drive to the Lofts.

He should’ve known better—showing up to Warren’s office empty handed was one thing, showing up to Warren’s office with a loose tongue and an uncontrolled temper was another.

He couldn’t even remember how the fight started. One thing after the next, and then Jeremy was going for blood, and Warren was swinging for it, the back of his hand smacking hard across Jeremy’s mouth.

Jeremy remembers the shock, remembers the feel of his teeth cutting into the back of his lips. He doesn’t Remember the decision to go. Doesn’t remember the drive. Just knows his mouth tastes like blood. Just knows he’s at the lofts.

Inside, the lobby is quiet. Jeremy expects nothing less for the middle of the night, and tries not to think about the way his ears ring in the silence. The way his mouth is throbbing. He just climbs the stairs, and once he reaches his friends’ door, flips through his keys with trembling hands.

And it’s only after he gets through them twice that he realizes—he doesn’t have one.

Jeremy’s heart sinks. He stares at the door for a good two minutes, debates just driving back to his house so he doesn’t have to bother anyone, and then takes out his phone, and calls Jean.

The most likely of the three to be awake. But if he isn’t…then Jeremy will just drive back. He’s decided.

The phone rings once, twice. On the third ring, Jeremy’s just pivoting to leave, to hang up, when Jean answers with a sleep ridden, “Jeremy?”

The sound of his voice nearly takes Jeremy to his knees. “Hi,” he says, tries to swallow down the crack. “Sorry, I’m—outside. Can you let me in?”