Status: finished, until i decide to write an epilogue. i still may.
Folded Paper.
Hudson Ackerman.
Their latter days spent together were primarily benevolent. There were those days in which Allister would shut down and simply want to sleep, but most days, he'd be happy. Hudson didn't worry. She had known that he was broken for a while and vowed to stay by his side until she simply could not help anymore. She prayed that that wouldn't happen until their later years, if not ever.
Hudson was sitting on Allister's couch, waiting for him to get out the shower so they could bake a few chocolate chip cookies from themselves.While she waited, she thought of Katie's questions that she was bombarded with that morning. ("Hudson, I know you're hiding soemthing from me. Who's the guy?") It isn't as if Hudson didn't want to tell her that she was seeing Allister. It was the simple fact that Allister rathered it'd just be between the two of them and no one else.
Allister walked out of the bathroom with a towel around his waist, asking, "Is there a specific CD you'd like to listen to while we bake? You can choose or I can. I don't mind." She stared at him, with an ever-growing smile on her face. It excited her; that broken boy was hers despite the lack of committmentship and he wanted no one but her. He raised an eyebrow as he stopped in front of his dresser, shaking his head. "What are you smiling about? If you think you're going to get to see something, you're wrong. Stop staring at me so I can put some clothes on."
With a light laugh, Hudson rolled her eyes and looked toward the television. She could hear the sound of the towel hitting the apartment floor and she was more than tempted to catch a glimpse of his bare backside. For the sake of his privacy and the fact that he'd allow her to look when he wanted to, she kept her gaze at the inactive television and waited patiently. "Allister, do you want me to just start mixing the cookies?"
"You wouldn't dare. We agreed that it'd be a joint effort, did we not?" Hudson didn't respond, trying to pick up the soft sounds the cloth made when it slid against Allister's skin. "Did you ever decide what you wanted to listen to? If not, then I'll decide."
Hudson stood up from the couch, slowly walking over to Allister. He was in the middle of fastening the button to his jeans when she halted behind him and lazily wrapped her arms around his thin waist. "You can go get my Taylor Swift album out of the car for me?"
"I'd rather not. Country music isn't tainting my—"
"Please, Allister? I promise to love you forever," she pleaded. "My girl T-Swizzle isn't all that bad either."
Allister snorted at that. He snorted and it took everything in Hudson not to make fun of how disgustingly cute it was. "It's bad when you put it like that. Let's settle for something less . . . hick." Hudson let her arms loose and shoved him, a push laced with mixed emotions; while it was comical, it felt more like an insult than anything. "I'll take that as a yes?"
Hudson groaned and walked to Allister's stack of CDs; if she could not have Taylor Swift, then she'd push for Beethoven. To her (expected) dismay, the boy only owned albums composed in the 1970s and up, meaning Beethoven would be another thing not in her favor. She just sighed and told Allister to pick one of his favorites, one that she hasn't heard, while she began taking the ingredients out for their cookies. She was more than surprised when she heard the sound of piano keys being played quite melodically and when Allister walked into the kitchen with a smug smile on his face, she whispered an embarrassed apology. "But I thought you didn't—"
Allister hushed her with a peck on the lips before slyly backing away and retrieving the box of cookie mix from the cupboard. "Didn't your parents teach you anything about assumptions? Don't assume without asking, dear. Just because I don't like 'T-Swizzle' doesn't mean that I don't enjoy a bit of classical music from time to time."
It was late afternoon and the chocolate chip cookies were gone. Allister was curled in the corner of the couch, his knees to his chest and his arms encircling them, drifting off to sleep. Hudson didn't know why he was so tired, but she didn't bother him. The only thing that bothered her was the fact that he wasn't sleep yet and had gone completely quiet.
Without an explanation, she stood from the sofa, which had began to feel cold and lifeless. Hudson grabbed a comforter—his black and blue one, to be exact—from Allister's bed before draping it over him. And then, she leaned forward, pressed a kiss to his forehead before sliding her shoes on and letting herself out of the apartment.
Hudson was sitting on Allister's couch, waiting for him to get out the shower so they could bake a few chocolate chip cookies from themselves.While she waited, she thought of Katie's questions that she was bombarded with that morning. ("Hudson, I know you're hiding soemthing from me. Who's the guy?") It isn't as if Hudson didn't want to tell her that she was seeing Allister. It was the simple fact that Allister rathered it'd just be between the two of them and no one else.
Allister walked out of the bathroom with a towel around his waist, asking, "Is there a specific CD you'd like to listen to while we bake? You can choose or I can. I don't mind." She stared at him, with an ever-growing smile on her face. It excited her; that broken boy was hers despite the lack of committmentship and he wanted no one but her. He raised an eyebrow as he stopped in front of his dresser, shaking his head. "What are you smiling about? If you think you're going to get to see something, you're wrong. Stop staring at me so I can put some clothes on."
With a light laugh, Hudson rolled her eyes and looked toward the television. She could hear the sound of the towel hitting the apartment floor and she was more than tempted to catch a glimpse of his bare backside. For the sake of his privacy and the fact that he'd allow her to look when he wanted to, she kept her gaze at the inactive television and waited patiently. "Allister, do you want me to just start mixing the cookies?"
"You wouldn't dare. We agreed that it'd be a joint effort, did we not?" Hudson didn't respond, trying to pick up the soft sounds the cloth made when it slid against Allister's skin. "Did you ever decide what you wanted to listen to? If not, then I'll decide."
Hudson stood up from the couch, slowly walking over to Allister. He was in the middle of fastening the button to his jeans when she halted behind him and lazily wrapped her arms around his thin waist. "You can go get my Taylor Swift album out of the car for me?"
"I'd rather not. Country music isn't tainting my—"
"Please, Allister? I promise to love you forever," she pleaded. "My girl T-Swizzle isn't all that bad either."
Allister snorted at that. He snorted and it took everything in Hudson not to make fun of how disgustingly cute it was. "It's bad when you put it like that. Let's settle for something less . . . hick." Hudson let her arms loose and shoved him, a push laced with mixed emotions; while it was comical, it felt more like an insult than anything. "I'll take that as a yes?"
Hudson groaned and walked to Allister's stack of CDs; if she could not have Taylor Swift, then she'd push for Beethoven. To her (expected) dismay, the boy only owned albums composed in the 1970s and up, meaning Beethoven would be another thing not in her favor. She just sighed and told Allister to pick one of his favorites, one that she hasn't heard, while she began taking the ingredients out for their cookies. She was more than surprised when she heard the sound of piano keys being played quite melodically and when Allister walked into the kitchen with a smug smile on his face, she whispered an embarrassed apology. "But I thought you didn't—"
Allister hushed her with a peck on the lips before slyly backing away and retrieving the box of cookie mix from the cupboard. "Didn't your parents teach you anything about assumptions? Don't assume without asking, dear. Just because I don't like 'T-Swizzle' doesn't mean that I don't enjoy a bit of classical music from time to time."
☠
It was late afternoon and the chocolate chip cookies were gone. Allister was curled in the corner of the couch, his knees to his chest and his arms encircling them, drifting off to sleep. Hudson didn't know why he was so tired, but she didn't bother him. The only thing that bothered her was the fact that he wasn't sleep yet and had gone completely quiet.
Without an explanation, she stood from the sofa, which had began to feel cold and lifeless. Hudson grabbed a comforter—his black and blue one, to be exact—from Allister's bed before draping it over him. And then, she leaned forward, pressed a kiss to his forehead before sliding her shoes on and letting herself out of the apartment.
♠ ♠ ♠
. . .