when u feel like writing a fucking drabble
Late night. The faint glow of a laptop screen as Davinder watches some Sci-Fi documentary with his earphones in. Taylor sprawled out next to him, or rather on top of him, his legs spread, arms taking way too much space. The blond snores peacefully.
Not anymore, though. A whine escapes his lips as his position closes up, the blond looks defensive. "Don'... hur'... No. Davey?"
The younger boy sighs and takes his earphones out - the left first, then the right. His free hand goes to rest on his boyfriend's head and stroke his hair as he checks the time in the lower corner of his laptop's screen. 2:51 AM.
Taylor's leg jerks and he grabs Davinder's shirt in a tight fist. The brunet gently loosens his fingers one by one and shakes him a little; not enough to startle him, just to let him know he was there. The tanned one gasps as he wakes up in a fear-induced sweat and looks around innocently.
"What was it this time?" Davinder asks.
"Uh... the spiders again. They were tryin'a - tryin'a eat you and, uh, stuff like that." Taylor is almost as bad a liar as his boyfriend is. "It was pretty wild."
The taller boy raises an eyebrow. "You know I don't ever believe you when you tell me that, right?"
"Whatever," the mumbled response comes as the blond's head nuzzles into Davinder's shirt. It smells good. Like detergent and cinnamon gum and a little bit of coffee. It makes him feel safe - but that isn't the problem now.
Taylor isn't afraid of his dad anymore. That's what he tells himself - so his subconscious makes up different scenarios now. It always starts out with him realizing he's in his old bed. He can't breathe. This isn't happening. It can't be, but it is. Muffled sounds from across the hall - smacking. He's hurting Davinder, his little precious flower, his lantern. It's dark; Taylor closes his eyes. He has to make a choice now. More and more he's been deciding to go help out his love, but that always ends up in himself getting beat up. Taylor fucking faggot fucking weak-ass wimp you're not a man you're no son of mine you're a disgrace you killed your mom just by being born.
"I don't wanna," the blond remembers he's in Davinder's bed. In Davinder's house. Not his shitty apartment, not the house of his nightmares, in Davinder's house.
"Sweetie, it's okay. I'm here. There are no spiders."
Poor kid, he had no fucking idea.
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