Status: Updated as soon as possible

A Daydream Away

Chapter 5

I woke up in a strangers bed.

Like, seriously.

When my eyes fluttered open, the first thing I noticed was not the dull pain in my stomach and back, but the fact that I was laying in a bed with a soft grey comforter laid across my body.

I quickly sat up and threw the blanket off, only to let out a groan at how terrible of an idea that was. Everywhere ached, but not as bad as I was expecting it to. Curiously, I lifted my shirt- wait, this isn't even my shirt. It was a Baltimore Raven's jersey that was way too big for me. And these boxers were not mine. I only had one pair- yeah, gross, I know- and they were a dull red. These were black with Batman symbols scattered all over them. I continued to lift the shirt, the thought that these articles of clothing were not mine still in my mind, to see that my stomach was patched up.

What the hell?

Confused as fuck, I reached to run my fingers through my hair only to be met by the touch of more bandages.

Again, what the hell?

And where was I?

I started to panic. I remembered getting the shit beat out of me after running into him again. I racked my brain, tryng to recall what else had happened. Nothing came to mind, though. Did he take me back with him? But, this place was too nice compared to where he was the last time I was with him. His room had stained carpets, the color no longer noticeable, with trash lying everywhere. The bed reeked of body odor, alcohol, and God knows what else.

This place, though, the room I was currently in was clean. The carpets were an off-white shade with no stain in sight. A light pastel blue covered the walls with a clock hanging on the wall to the right of the bed, informing me that it was a few minutes past noon. The door stood slightly ajar next to the clock, though I couldn't see a whole lot out of it. There was a dresser and a mirror on the opposite side of the room. Other than that, the place was rather bare, like it didn't particularly belong to someone.

I threw my head back, not feeling any better about my current situation. Even though it wasn't the same place, there was a possibility that he could have taken me to a new place or something. My head began hurting from my over thinking, so I just let the comfort of the bed relax me. I laid there for a good ten minutes before I heard a muffled noise coming from somewhere in the house.

My heartbeat picked up at the sound. On shaky legs, I stood up and made my way to the door, peaking out into the hallway.

My ears were suddenly assaulted by the sounds of someone terribly singing Back in Black. Without meaning to, I started to giggle, causing the singing to stop and someone to appear at the entrance of the hallway, a frying pan in hand. It was Jack.

"Uh..." he said awkwardly, "H-how are you feeling, Alex?"

I didn't say anything. It wasn't the fact that I've figured out the mystery of who's house I was in, it being Jack's, but the fact that he was only in a pair of boxers.

I mentally slapped myself, and hid farther behind the door.

"I-I'm fine... hurts, but... what happened?" I tried sounding confident, but all of these emotions seemed to prevent me from doing so. I barely know this man, other than the fact that he is undeniably attractive, in my eyes, that he's come to watch me play music on more than one occasion, and that we've been led into small talk afterwards. For all I know, this guy could be a crack dealer, or a murderer.

Instead of answering my question, he nodded his head to an area behind him.

"Come sit and eat, I'll tell you about it after we get some food in you." At that he turned, adding, "Looks like you haven't eaten in a while."

I stayed put for a few seconds. Why was he helping me? I barely know him and he barely knows me, yet here I am, wearing his clothing and am about to be fed by him.

I let out a sigh and slowly pushed the door open, shuffling down the hall and into a spacious, rectangular shaped living area, the left half containing a large, black sofa and a matching love seat, and a flatscreen T.V.; the other side containing a table with four chairs. Set up behind it was a counter with a sink, a stove, and a refrigerator next to it, everything taking up the wall space. I got the feeling that this was more of an apartment than a house.

Jack was standing in front of the stove, a plate of pancakes stacked up next to him. Me, being the awkward person that I was, just stood in the entryway to the hall, eyes downcast after taking in my surroundings.

He caught site of me and motioned for me to sit down. Reluctantly, I did so, my eyes moving from staring at the floor to staring at the table. My vision was suddenly interrupted by a plate full of pancakes. I looked up at Jack, a smile on his face as he proceeded to put a butter dish, a bottle of syrup, and a cup of coffee in front of me. After doing so, he sat down with his own plate and mug and began fixing his pancakes up with the butter and syrup.

I watched him as he took a bite of the sweet treat, feeling my mouth begin to water. I looked down at my own plate and inhaled the scent. They smelled delicious. It wasn't until that moment that I realized just how hungry I was. I mean, I hadn't eaten in a few days in order to save my money, the only thing being consumed by me were a few cups of coffee.

Not even bothering to smother them like Jack did, I took my fork and took a hefty bite, letting out a loud sound of satisfaction at how wonderful they tasted. I heard Jack chuckle from across the table, but at this point I didn't care. It's been way too long since I've had a home cooked meal, and, even though this was simply pancakes, I felt like they were heaven, They even had chocolate chips in them.

"Are they good?" Jack asked with a humorous tone. I nodded my head enthusiastically, continuing to shovel the food into my mouth. He let out another soft laugh, "That's a good thing."

When I was finished, I looked up to see Jack watching me with an amused look on his face. He wasn't even half done with his plate.

I felt the red rising in my cheeks. My gaze returned to the table, staring at the now empty plate. I muttered a quiet "thank you" before grabbing the mug of coffee with both of my hands and allowing the heat to warm my fingers.

I could tell that the both of us didn't want to speak of what had happened, but it needed to be done. I opened my mouth, ready to say something, but I was beaten to it by Jack.

"Did you know those people?" he questioned, a careful tone in his voice. I thought about lying, saying that I was only mugged, but this man in front of me has already done so much that not telling him the truth seemed wrong. I nodded.

"Okay," he breathed out, taking a sip of his coffee and making a face. "What did they want from you?"

I just shook my head, signalling that that was somewhere I didn't want to go. He just nodded his head in understanding and resumed eating his pancakes. That seemed to be the end of the conversation.

We sat there in awkward silence, me going from staring at Jack while he ate to tracing the patterns on the table with my fingers. He seemed content, though.

Once he shoved the last bit of pancake in his mouth, he started cleaning up the table. Without a word, I took the dishes from his hands and brought them over to the sink and began washing them.

"You don't have to do that, I don't want you doing anything that may stress your injuries," he said as he walked up next to me, trying to push me away. I was stubborn, though, and I kept my ground and shooed him away. He let out a sigh and retreated to the living room. This was the least I could do for him.

After I was finished, I slowly sauntered over to the couch where Jack was sitting. He patted the spot next to him, inviting me to sit down. I sat down on the love seat instead because he was still in his boxers and I wanted to avoid jumping him. He let out another sigh, leaned back in his spot and closed his eyes, giving me the opportunity to check out his stretched out body. Besides the fact that he's got the hairiest legs I've ever seen on a man, my eyes enjoyed what they saw. Long, slightly tanned limbs, a nice torso, and his tattoo. God, his ink was insane. It was of Jack Skellington playing a guitar that covered a majority of his right pectoral. I had to bite my lip and look away because good Lord this man.

"So," I began, "What happened exactly?" I turned my head to him, careful not to look any lower than his face. He seemed a little too confident in his skin and that was a major turn on.

"Well," he sat up and clapped his hands together, "I was walkin' back from work and saw some guys beating the shit out of this poor kid, that kid being you, and I threatened to call the cops on them. They grumbled something that I couldn't hear and took off. When I reached you, you were already unconscious, so I couldn't ask where you lived and, since the hospital is a joke, I took you back to my place, if that's okay."

My cheeks started turning red for the millionth time in the past two days. "Th-thank you," I muttered, "Thank you so much for doing a-all of this. Y-you didn't have to... but... why?"

A huge smile spread across Jack's face, "Hey, if we're going to be in a successful band together, we're probably going to get close, which means looking out for each other. Also, we finally found a lead singer, we don't need him getting fucked up by some drugged out assholes."

I couldn't help but laugh at that. A laugh that sounded so foreign and so genuine to me that it kind of shocked me. It's been so long since I've had positive contact with anyone, and I was really enjoying it. It wasn't until his next question came out that I felt the panic begin to rise.

"So, I've got your clothes in the washing machine since they looked like they needed it. Once they're out, would you like me to take you back to your place?"

My mind blanked. What do I tell him?

"Uh.. no, no you've already done enough for me. I-I'll just walk home." I stuttered out.

"Dude," he said in a very serious tone, "You said those guys know you, which probably means that they are going to be looking for you. I'm not letting you walk back."

I felt my self sink into my seat. It felt as if I was a child being reprimanded for doing something he shouldn't have. So, I did what my first instinct always told me to do when I get in trouble: I tell the truth.

"I-I don't... I don't have a home.."

Jack looked a bit shocked. We sat in silence for a few moments, and I could tell he was mulling over the information I had just told him. I saw his mouth open and close, as if debating to ask what I knew he was going to ask.

It seems like he finally decided as he slowly said, "You don't have a home? Are you- are you homeless?" he questioned in disbelief. I nodded my head, trying my best not to make eye contact with him.

"Okay then," he said in a strangely enthusiastic tone as he stood up and clasped his hands together, "Looks like you'll be living with me, then."

He held out his hand for me to grab. I reluctantly did so as he helped me to stand up.

"Are you serious?" I asked in disbelief.

"Bro, as you live with me, you'll learn that I'm rarely ever serious," he admitted with a playful smirk, "But yes, yes I am serious."

I thought about what he just said, "As you live with me". I didn't even say yes. I didn't say no, either, but it's like it was more of a statement than a request.

I shook my head and retracted my hand from his grasp.

"Dude, I can't do that. You've done a shit load for me already, and now you're offering me a place to stay? It just... it seems a bit too good to be true."

"Hey, like I said before. If we're gong to be in a band together, we going to have to look out for each other, and that means making sure you are not out on the streets. And look," he said, placing a hand on my shoulder, "Before you begin to argue, because I can see that stubborn look in your eye, it will all be fine. I've got an extra room you can have and if you're worried about 'paying me back', I own a bar where I can get you a job. You are by no means intruding on me. In fact, I've been getting super fucking bored living by myself. So, really, don't sweat it."

I searched his face, looking for any sign of this being a joke. I mean, I've been on the streets for a good four years. Now, all of a sudden, I meet a gorgeous stranger and he's offering me a job and a bed to sleep in. Can you tell why I'm wary?

I think he noticed my hesitancy, because he let out an awkward laugh and said, "Look, if you're worried about me seeing you naked or some shit, don't worry. I've already had to undress you for your wounds. And it's not like you've got tits, so..." he joked.

I will have to admit, my heart kind of broke a bit. So he isn't gay. Damn.

When you get down to it, I shouldn't even question his offer. He could have left me out there to die, or to be taken back with them. He didn't have to take me back to his apartment, give me food, fix me up, and he most definitely didn't have to offer me a life.

I let out a breath and nodded.