Coffee and Bliss

Tristan woke up as he felt something moving on top of him. He then freaked out when he felt something rubbing his chest under the blanket. Not thinking it was Mia as his little bun didn’t go to his room to sleep, he slowly uncovered his chest and cried out a little. It wasn't just something, it was a pale long hand. It was rubbing his chest while the other was wrapped tightly on his waist. He felt the hands’ owner breathing on his neck, dipping their face on it.

'Harris?'

He moved away lightly to confirm his guess. And fuck! It was really Harris, hugging him on his bed. And he was fucking on top of him, sleeping like a child. He was in between his legs as he could feel the friction between their cock.

‘When did he come here and why was he here?'

Harris stirred, moving his hands as if finding something. He was about to stand up when Harris threatened him after he didn’t move again to his side. Still confused, he let the pale man yank him and he sprawled beside his sleeping figure; only to find they were in an uncomfortable position. 

It was so hard to sleep again having someone on his bed, a man, gripping tightly on his waist.

Instead of going back to sleep, he kept on staring at Harris' deep slumber who was embracing him like he was a pillow. There were minutes when Harris whimpered or murmured something in his sleep. He found himself raking his locks to prevent him from waking up.

He almost got crazy thinking about what was happening. Until morning came.

He gradually got up, avoiding waking up the pale man. Mia asked about Harris first when he saw her standing outside the room with a teddy bear in her arms. She asked her to go outside first as he didn't want her to catch a fever too.

After a minute, the pale man woke up not remembering why he was in his room. He thanked his inner self because of that. At least they wouldn’t feel awkward. He went outside the room and came back after a minute of calling his friends that he couldn’t make it to the school.

He froze on his feet, on his bed was Harris, sleeping. But dry tears were apparent on his cheeks. Why did he cry?

He lightly sat down near the pale man. He didn’t know why but he felt the urge to caress his hair. His hand went down to his cheeks, slowly wiping the dry tears. He then hummed a song as if wanting the pale man to sleep deeply to forget the reason for his tears. He didn’t realize he fell asleep too until a warm hand poked his left cheek.

“Hm.” He groaned a little. He had a sleepless night as he stayed all night, watching Harris again. It had been two fucking sleepless nights.

“You’re too heavy. You might crash me into thin pieces.” A hoarse voice winced below him.

He quickly opened his eyes. His face constantly flushed, he was on top of Harris. Literal having his weight above him. He froze again feeling the smack on his head.

“Shia!” 

off me. I can’t breathe!” Harris hissed and wriggled below

the pale man, rubbing his head. He glared at Harris as he was loving to

me?” The pale man asked instead, rolling

murmured. He bit his tongue to avoid himself from

Harris narrowed his eyes.

telling the truth.” He was kind of irritated when he noticed Harris' reaction. He had the look that he was rape

said sorry. Wow, first time!” Harris exclaimed, placing his hands on

the most fucking confusing person he had ever know. Mood swing? Because he was

hard, not to mention he had teary-eyes, grasping his stomach. 'Fucking dickhead' He was making

how

when he perhaps noticed

laugh more, it suits you.” He

his throat. He counted one to three

Harris punched him

He then wiggled his

his eyes and paled. “Dirty-minded dickhead!” He picked the pillow and smashed it right to his

echoed in the room. His shoulders were shaking as he regained his position. “Nope, I just have a

him intently, leaning forward, not breaking

enough to feel his breath smacking his face. ‘Fuck! Too early! Too early for

he asked Harris. “Anyway, why did you always lock up after having

heard Harris sighed, his head hanging low. He thought he wouldn’t answer so he sat up and got ready to take off the bed. But Harris grabbed his wrist. 'Like

“Mourning.” One word. Just one word but he felt the pain, sadness, and

not minding Harris’ hand

am still mourning for my grandma’s death. It’s just—It’s . . .I am feeling guilty and sad because I was not there on her last day. She means so much to me. What kind of grandson I am, right? It hurts! I chose my career here over her. If only I could turn

didn’t know that there was