6 #3
“You’re a devil! You know that?” Jude continued. “Honestly, you are the most cowardly person I know! Behind that devil is the worst ever coward I know! You always hurt people, and you feel like you’re superior! I pray to never see you again ‘cause I hate you! I hate you so mu—”
Without another word, he swiftly carried him on his shoulder. Jude exclaimed in shock.
“Oh my god, what is he doing?”
“That fag really ruins the party.”
“What an embarrassment. I know he would do this.”
“He’s so pathetic.”
“Attention seeker.”
“He’s sexy and cute.”
Ignoring the people around them, Sky walked upstairs, two steps at a time, while Jude was complaining about his life, begging to be put down. However, he was too drunk to even nudge Sky, considering that he was so small. He could not even move Sky’s huge and muscular frame.
“Put me down!” Jude screamed while punching his lower back.
Jude’s tight ass was on the side of Sky’s face, and he could feel his small cock under the thin cotton brushing his shoulder.
Sky did not respond to any of his yelps of protest. Instead, he went straight to his room and closed the door with a loud bang. He was persistently complaining and whining to go down, so Sky abruptly dunked him on his bed.
“Aw…what did you do?!” Jude shouted as he complained about the pain of the sudden impact. “That was not appropriate, Sky Granger!”
Sky, with his reprimanding eyes, stared directly into his vivid grey ones, which conveyed thousands of delicate emotions.
“You’re drunk,” Sky said, now glaring at him.
“I’m not drunk!” Jude yelled as he tried to stay upright with utmost difficulty.
Accidentally, Sky caught a glimpse of the empty bottle of gin on the edge of his bed. Seven hundred milliliters of that was no joke for a beginner.
“And so, what if I’m drunk, huh? What’s your problem with that bastard? I can do whatever I want to do with my life. And who are you to tell me what to do?” he incessantly shouted like a damsel in distress, and his saliva spilled on his lips, wetting them and making them more glossy pink.
Sky did not answer him. He only knitted his brows together as he looked at him seriously.
His knuckles firmly creased; he shoved them into the pockets of his black jeans.
He did not disconnect his eyes from Jude.
He was staring into his eyes as if reading what was beneath them.
He was trying to cool his anger, frustration, and his heart.
“You should sleep,” Sky said authoritatively.
“What did you say?” Jude asked, as if trying to make sure he had heard him correctly.
“You should fucking sleep,” he repeated.
Jude laughed ridiculously and then rolled his eyes as he lay his back down on the bed again, feet still hanging off the side.
There was a brief pause and silence.
“I don’t understand why you’re doing this. You’re not my guardian, and we’re not even friends. We are enemies,” he said softly now, more cooled down.
Jude’s eyes were looking at the dirty white ceiling. Sky just stared at him as if it were his last time seeing him.
“Y-ou know what, Sky? No one ever told me like that because no one cares,” he said.
A fake smile crept onto his lips.
Sky did not know what he was talking about.
“Everyone around me was so cruel, even my own parents never asked me if I was okay or not. If I should sleep because it’s late, or if I had a good sleep or if I had a nightmare,” he ranted. “No one checks on me.”
There was a forlorn and aggrieved tone in his voice, telling him stories out of nowhere and making dramatic lines out of that simple command from him. He was clearly drowned by alcohol.
“Life wasn’t really good to me, and I get tired sometimes.
I have parents who don’t care about me and only give their full attention to Mitch.
My sister doesn’t like me and wants me gone, too.
And when I go to school, people bully me a lot.
You…” he pointed at Sky. “You are the worst, Sky Granger! I hate you…I really, really hate you a lot! I swear to God!”
Jude lifted his head to connect their eyes, and then, with a couple of seconds of staring at each other, he slumped his back against his bed again.
His tears were pooling down. He was out of control.
He had completely lost it. His behavior had changed drastically, clearly driven by the alcohol in his system.
“I always wonder what I have done to deserve a treatment like this from the world. People always hurt me physically, mentally, and especially here…” he pointed to his chest as if it really hurt down there.
“Why do you hate me so much, Sky?” he questioned tiredly, and then just after that, he fell asleep.
Sky’s face softened. He clenched his fists even more, tendons protruding, nails wounding his palms to divert the tightening of his chest.
“Oh shit! This faggot is so sick! I’m so sorry about this, Sky—” Mitch interrupted, and without another word, Sky passed through her, bumped her shoulder, and stormed outside the room, looking for something for his knuckles to bleed on tonight.