I sleep until noon. 

My Wednesdays are normally filled with math and Economics with dying brain cells as result. They're full of sighing students, shouting professors and doodles in notebooks. Everything is chaotic and loud. 

This Wednesday is one of peace. I woke on Jake's side early in the morning, around 7, expecting to go to college. Instead of dragging me out of bed, he let me stay underneath the warm covers. I was allowed to watch him dress with a foggy mind, feeling like all of that was a dream. 

When it became obvious he had to leave, he placed a kiss on my head and told me to get some rest. So that's what I did. I slept the whole day, dreaming of flowers and Jake. It's possible the scent of those two things inspired my brain. 

Now, at twelve o'clock, I'm wide awake and staring up at the white ceiling. My stomach is telling me to get the fuck up and eat something, but my mind tells me to wait until Jake's back. It may be my procrastination and eating disorder talking, but I tell myself this is a decent reason to wait with eating. 

Though. . . wouldn't Jake be proud when I can say I've already eaten today?

Sneakily, I slip out of the bed. Jake's shirts are neatly folded, but I'm guessing he wouldn't mind me stealing one. After all, he also grabbed one of mine; I still haven't gotten it back, and it's been weeks. 

Though, the idea alone of Jake sleeping in my shirt throughout the week as a reminder of me gives me a feeling of warmth. I can't quite explain it, I only know it makes me want to see him like that. Alone in bed, making sure he can smell my faint scent as he falls asleep. 

"Look! It's alive!" Flynn feigns shock when I enter the kitchen. His hands are all around his face, like the painting of Edvard Munch. I ignore him. 

The kitchen table and counter are full of notebooks and textbooks, together with three empty cups of coffee and tons of plastic packages of cookies. All empty, too. I can't imagine the horror Eliot and Jake will face when they come home in half an hour. 

When I open my mouth to go along with his comment, he raises his hands to stop me. Shakes his head. "No, no, mister. I'm in a very important class. So don't distract me and keep your big mouth shut."

Wasn't he the one initiating the conversation?

Not having the energy to argue, I shrug and dig through the cabinets, chasing something edible. My class following friend sighs loudly, telling me I have to be silent. He's being dramatic. 

"I'm not even mak—" "Ah, ah! Class!"

Fucking hell. I roll my eyes, settling on the granola bar I found. Silently, I close the cabinet again, which is the reason I get a look of approval. 

Not long after, that approval changes into horror. He lunges towards me, slapping the granola bar out of my hand. Now without food but with a very heavy hockey player hanging around my neck, I sigh and lean against the counter. "What now?"

"Those are way past the date!" "Then why do you keep them in your kitchen? Christ," I shake my head. "I just want something to eat."

He's nodding now, frantically looking around. "Okay. Um. Wait a second. I think we have something left in here—"

"Can mister Harrison answer this question? He has been awfully quiet today, and that surely isn't one of his personality traits." The woman on the other side of the screen, teaching the class, is out for blood. 

All color drains out of Flynn's face as he practically runs back to his laptop. "My apologies, ma'am, could you repeat the question? I was taking notes when a friend of mine walked in, again, I'm so sorry."

I wonder why he's so worked up about a class. Intrigued, I listen and watch Flynn's next movements. He stares at the screen, but the woman doesn't answer him. After a few seconds, his shoulders tense and a deep sigh leaves his lips. "I'm sorry, Mrs. Tucer. I really am. I promise this was the only moment I wasn't paying full attention to this meeting."

"I am sorry, too, sir. We will have to report this incident to your father, as it isn't the first time this happens. If you can't take your responsibilities seriously, there will be drastic consequences. As you know."

Dread slams into me at the desperate face Flynn makes. He actually looks like he's about to have a mental breakdown, so I quickly make my way over to him and rest a hand on his back. His head lowers into his shaky hands, as Mrs. Tucer continues her meeting. "I-I was taking it seriously."

"I'm sorry," I tell him, meaning it. I thought it was just a class—he told me it was—and I didn't mean to bother him. "Do you want me to tell her the truth?"

He shrugs, avoiding to look at the screen. "It won't work. She's going to mail my dad with a list of everything I've pulled during meetings, and he'll be mad. Who knows, maybe he'll even cut in Dante's wage."

Hold on. So because Flynn isn't paying attention during one meeting, his dad will take it out on my best friend?

I press the button of raising a digital hand and wait for Mrs. Tucer to acknowledge me (or Flynn, technically). Once I have permission to turn on my camera and microphone, I smile politely at her. I don't want to, but I have to fix this. 

"I'm sorry, ma'am, I think there's been a misunderstanding. Mister Harrison was actually paying attention, but unfortunately I walked in on his meeting and he was momentarily distracted. He can show you the notes he was taking, if you'd like. It would be fantastic if you could accept my apologies and give Fl—mister Harrison another chance, since this was not his fault."

Her eyes narrow through the screen. "Is that right, Flynn Andreas Harrison?"

Flynn flinches next to me before collecting his cool and coming into view, nodding. "Yes, Mrs. Tucer. It would be polite of you not to report this incident."

"Hm. As for my question, how would you communicate all of these renewed guidelines? We're aware of the 53% of our employees that doesn't read the bimonthly sent out mail. What do you propose?"

Sending me a grateful look, Flynn picks up his notes and starts explaining things I don't understand. I make my way back to Jake's room, deciding on eating the few Oreo's I've seen on his desk. It's not the most healthy, but it'll do. 

Just when I cross the hallway, the front door unlocks. Two laughing dudes walk in, who freeze when they see me. They're not Jake nor Eliot, and I'm looked at like I'm a unicorn. Wide eyes, jaw dropped. "Who are you?"

"I'm Alex, nice to meet you." I reach to give them a hand, because what else am I to do, but they refuse and keep on staring at me. A little rude, if you ask me. 

"What are you doing here?" the other snaps, looking me up and down. The door opens again, revealing Eliot and Jake. I immediately walk to the latter, wanting to be close to him. It's more important than breathing. 

"Hello," he chuckles, pressing a kiss to my temple. Satisfied, I return the gesture. "Hi. How was class?"

A groan comes from his left. Eliot is acting like he's dying. I cock an eyebrow. "Sounds fun."

"Who is this guy?" The two dudes are still staring at me, but now that I'm protected against them, I dare to ask them the same question. 

No response. All they do, is stare a little more. 

"Jake," I sigh, "they're being rude to your guest!"

"Hold on," one sputters. "We're guests too!"

"But I've been here longer," I point out. The other takes a step closer. Jake's arm tightens around my waist, which almost has me squealing in giddiness. 

No. I do not know what has come over me, either. 

"So technically, you're less of a guest than us." Oh, how I hate it when people in the opposite team of me point out something reasonable. 

"Jake likes me more, though," I throw back. Eliot shakes his head, making his way over to the kitchen. I call him back. "Flynn is in an important class, it's best not to disturb him!"

With a sigh, he changes directions and disappears into his room. That leaves me and Jake with the guys, who are still scowling. Their annoyance makes me smile. Just a little. 

"Guys, this is Alexander, Alex for friends. Alex, this is James, and that's Oliver. They're on the team. I forgot we're meeting up this afternoon, and I'm sorry, but you can't come along unless Oliver approves."

I pout at Jake. "I thought we were going to do something together!"

His eyes turn stern, so I turn down the childish behavior a little. "Okay then. I think I'm going home after lunch, then."

Now he's worried. "Are you sure? You can stay with Flynn, or sleep a little more. I don't want you to be in that company before your first therapy session. They would ruin it for you. Not Dante, but. . . you know who," he adds in a whisper, trying to hide our conversation from James and Oliver but failing. 

"They're not that bad," I whisper back. It's a lie, because yes they are, but I don't want to worry Jake. He's already done enough for me. 

"No!" The word is a loud gasp, coming from the guy named Oliver. He's looking at me with wide eyes and holding an arm out as if to say stop. "He's coming with us!"

His friend grabs his elbow, bending a little towards his ear. It must be something in this friend group, because he can't whisper for the life of him, either. "Are you sure? He's a total stranger, and this is your first time going."

Oliver shakes him off and walks towards me. "Yes, I'm sure. Alex is coming with us. I understand how it feels to not be welcome at home, and I'll do anything to avoid someone else to feel like that. Come on, Alex, we're going to Jake's room and I'll explain."

Surprised, I don't struggle as he drags me along to Jake's room. "What do you mean? Of course I'm welcome—" "Do not lie to me," he threatens, still not looking at me. 

"I'm not—" "Look," he cuts me off again. Jake and James know better than to eavesdrop and continue on walking past us, to the room. Oliver catches my attention again. "I was like this, too, okay? But let me tell you, it's so much easier after you decide to be honest with the ones that care about you. I come from an abusive home too, okay, and I know it isn't easy. Please don't hesitate to talk to Jake about it. Or me, if you're comfortable. But do not ignore it. My brother did that, and he's having a much harder time than I am."

I'm confused. I think Oliver suspects that I'm in the same situation like he is, but I'm not. I just made the wrong friends. "Thank you. But I think there's been some misunderstanding. My parents are great, they don't hurt me. I was talking about my friends, back at our shared house, because some things are going on and I am realizing I have wrong friends. It's not comparable to what it was back at yours, but I'm still not very happy back there, so Jake's letting me stay over for some nights."

An 'oh' expression takes over his face. He probably isn't very happy he told his former biggest secret to a stranger now. "Oh. Hell, this is awkward."

I give him a gentle nudge. "No, it's okay. Thank you for reaching out to me and making sure I'm okay. That's very kind of you. Don't ever stop doing that when you think someone is in the same situation as you were."

The gratitude is clear in his eyes, but he looks away and tries to play it off. He coughs. "Sure. Whatever. Jake and James are probably waiting."

So the second we're talking about his feelings, he shuts down. Okay, got it. I won't start about it again. 

"Where are you going this afternoon?" I'm curious, and now Jake isn't here to glare at me, my interest has shamelessly risen again. 

"We," he pointedly corrects, "are going to see my brother for the first time after they took my father away. He's in foster care right now, since I can't adopt him yet, but he's well. But between you and I, I don't think he is. That boss of his department is a real bitch, or so his messages say."

"How can you be a bitch when you work in foster care? Kids are sweet!" 

He snorts in disagreement, opening the door. Jake is seated on his bed, so I plop down next to him. Oliver leans against the doorframe. "It's funny how Beau knows none of you, but asks me about my friends all the time. He says he likes you."

It's not about me, but I see Jake flush at the compliment. Happy to be around him, I snuggle into his side. "Of course he does, Jake's the best."

I catch James' careful eyes. He's watching us, in an almost cautious way. "Are you two. . . boyfriends?"

"What?" I startle. Jake laughs, untangling from my hug and taking some distance. I don't like that, but I do respect it. "Oh, no no. Just friends."

Just friends? I'm gonna show him just friends tonight.

We're not boyfriends, but some other title than just friends would've been nice. Just friends classifies me just like James and Oliver. 

Just friends. I wonder if he'll still think we're just friends after I've fucked him breathless.