Troubles

After looking under the doormat, I sit down on top of it and sprawl my legs out in front of me. Brian didn't mention when he'd want me home or if he'd pick me up or even when he'd be home. Apparently, he went out.

When 9:30 rolled around and I was still at the Ways', I told them I should probably get home. They refused to let me just take the bus, and since it was late, Donald offered to drive since he didn't want Gerard out on the roads that late at night.

Right before I exited the house, Donna gave me a giant hug and said that if I wasn't spending it anywhere else with anyone, then I was more than welcome to spend Christmas with them. I couldn't smile because of the relief or sadness – I'm still not sure – but I did manage to nod and hug her once more.

The drive home was quiet and peaceful and when Donald dropped me off, I just told him I had a key so he wouldn't wait for me to wave from the window or something. The store was still closed and the stairwell was dark before I entered it, the motion sensors turning on the lights.

Speaking of, the fluorescent lamps just turned off again.

I was hoping that Brian would be home, but after knocking long and hard on the door with no answer, I decided not to risk disturbing the neighbors anymore. I don't want any of them to come out and find me, locked out: they'd either pity me or laugh at me, and I don't want either of that.

I have no idea what else to do but sit, silently, and wait. Brian might be home soon, but he also might not be back until morning. He might've thought I'd spent the night at the Ways, but since it's a school night, I don't see how he would think that.

He's getting bored with me. I'm just a puppy with big brown eyes that isn't fun to keep anymore.

-----

I open my eyes slowly, but they fly open with the next noise.

There's someone coming up the stairs.

I sit up abruptly and mentally curse myself for making so much noise.

The footsteps get quicker and I press myself against the door and draw up my legs, covering my shins with my arms and pulling my shoulders up, ready to duck my head.

The lump in my throat grows rapidly in size when the figure turns to ascent the last flight of stairs before reaching me.

“Frank,” Brian says as soon as he looks up from the steps. I feel my body gradually collapse from the relief that's rushing through it.
“I'm so sorry,” he says as he falls to one knee in front of me, reaching out to place a hand on my shoulder. He's looking at me with an obvious regret in his eyes.
“I fell asleep. I'm so, so, fucking sorry.”

While he apologizes, he gets to his feet and helps me up, unlocking the door and urging me inside. My back aches from the uncomfortable position on the concrete floor.

“I was at a friend's and we just lost track of time and then we... just fell asleep. I'm so sorry, Frank. You have no idea.”

I take off my shoes in the corner of the hallway and nod in his direction. I'm tired and sore. I've slept okay – better than at the shelter – but my back obviously hasn't been happy with sitting up while doing so.

“Why don't you just go to bed, huh? Unless you're hungry. Are you hungry? I can just make something real quick.” I shake my head at him, but he doesn't seem to notice, because he quickly walks into the kitchen and starts opening anything and everything that can be opened, it seems.
“I can make some mac and cheese? Or, uhm, cereal?” he mumbles. He's obviously desperate to find a way to make it all up to me. I'm just glad to know that he didn't forget me completely. He still finds the time to think about me, but does that mean he isn't still bored with me? I don't think so.

He turns to me and he must see how tired I am, because he then closes the cupboards and fridge and freezer doors he'd had open and turns to face me.

“I'm sorry,” he says clearly and then sighs. He quickly rubs his entire face with the palms of his hands.

“Who was the friend?” I ask. The hesitation in his voice when he talked about his friend and what they were doing made my curiosity exceed my sleepiness.

He looks shocked, like a dear caught in the headlights. He starts looking around the room, his hands grabbing a handle, then letting it go of it and rubbing his palm against his jeans.

I can't help but feel smug. I've totally busted him. He's definitely seeing this 'friend' in ways that friends don't usually see each other.

“Uhm,” he hums out. He's blushing now. I smile, but the actual, physical smile on my lips isn't as big due to fatigue.
“She's,” he starts, but changes his sentence, “we're dating,” he then squeezes out. The smile on my lips grow.

“Cool,” I say, before I yawn loudly and end it with a smirk. I'm so tired that I'm happy, despite just having spent... some time, napping on a hard, ungrateful floor.
Brian snorts a ridiculous laugh.

“Bed time?” he asks, and I nod once before turning around and walking to my room.
“Night,” Brian calls just after I've buried myself under my duvet, still fully clothed. I love this warm, soft bed.