Page 32 of Silent Damage

I rise from bed and creep out of my bedroom. As I walk through the living room, I see him sleeping on the couch.

He sighs, still sleeping on his stomach with his mouth open. His arm loosely hangs off the couch, and his muscular back rises and falls as he breathes.

He bitches at me for not wearing clothes, but here he is half naked on the couch with just a blanket covering his lower half.

Is he even wearing pajama pants? What if he’s naked under that blanket?

Stop getting excited.

I take a deep breath and make my way into the kitchen to pour myself some cereal.

I could eat outside—hell, I could leave and eat with Mom in Doug’s trailer.

To hell with that.

I take a seat at the table and stare out the window, trying to focus on the trees.

The grass is green, leaves sway in the wind, and squirrels dart about looking for nuts.

I breathe a sigh of relief.

Then asshole wakes up.

“Jesus Christ,” he groans. I won’t look at him, but I can see him in my periphery. He sits upright, running his hands through his messy hair.

I hate how good the shaved sides look on him.

He scrubs his hands over his face and moans, “I was hoping this was all a dream.”

Likewise, asshole.

I don’t look at him.

I just continue staring out the window, eating my cereal.

Having a nice fucking day!

Jason

My back hurts from sleeping on this damn thing, and Gabe sits at the table, having himself a lovely morning.

“I bet it’s great having a real bed, huh?” I arch my back, and the crack it makes is alarming. “Did you hear that? That’s my life now.” I rub the heels of my hands into my eyes. “It must have been freaking fantastic being able to actually shut a damn door and have some privacy, too,” I add. “What do I get? A couch.”

And if I don’t want the couch, my only other option is to sleep right next to you.

He’s not even looking at me. He sits there, slurping down his cereal, watching the beautiful dead landscape outside because this trailer park was probably built over a toxic chemical dump, and that’s why we’re all fucking lunatics!

Still nothing.

And now, I’m mad.

Why does he have to be in my face the second I wake up in the morning? I fucking told him to steer clear of me, and what does he do?

Chows down on some store-brand cereal right next to me, having himself a glorious morning while I’m over here reeling from the fact that I had to strangle my cock like it robbed me to stop myself from biting into that ass he keeps showing off…

Well, fuck that!

I stomp into the kitchen, look for a bowl, slam all the cabinets during my search, and pour myself some cereal.