SLEEPSONG (BoyxBoy)✔️

Chapter 42

Chapter Forty Two

Our plan... well, my plan... to leave that night and go stay with Woody never got off the ground. Instead, I ended up watching movies in Tiffany's extremely pink bedroom with a full face of makeup and lashes and glittery lip gloss that made me look smoking hot, in full drag.

Yeah. Drag. I was wearing the white t-shirt, sleeveless jeans jacket, and the skirt she'd bought for me at the mall, complete with the thigh-high stockings, with my long blonde hair completely braided into Heidi pigtails that lay draped across my shoulders and brushed my lap. 

You might be confused, or wondering what the actual fuck, so let me go back and explain how this all happened. For your benefit, not mine.

You see, upon mine and Sebastian's return, he told everyone that he'd consented to let me leave with Woodrow, and that I was free to do as I pleased before stalking off. Richard, Leo, and Jun had all followed him instantly, and I, not being in the mood to deal with Diana's snark or seeing Cassidy's face, headed down the hall and up the stairs to my room so I could pack.

Unfortunately, someone who hadn't gotten the message had followed me.

"Come on, Aerin!" Tiffany wheedled, standing at my door with a pleading expression as I neatly packed my clothes into the suitcases I'd brought with me. "You don't need to go!"

"Yes, I do," I firmly told her, then paused and let out a sigh before putting my clothes down; I turned around and looked at her. "I appreciate you and Kyle for stepping up and trying to get to know the real me, but this situation is far too convoluted for me to not put a bit of distance between you guys and myself."

"But, why?" she whispered, stalking forward and clutching my shoulders; her eyes were wide, desperate, and her grip quivered a little. "Why do you have to go? Sebastian genuinely cares about you, in a way that none of us have ever seen before you showed up!"

That remark stung a little, since I could still vividly remember the walk back to the house.

His shocking confession, the tone of his voice as he'd agreed to let me go, his eyes... and the silence as I'd followed him, staring at the rigidity of his broad shoulders, of his clenched fists, shaking in the dark, from anger or something else, something I couldn't discern...

I shook my head clear and raised my hands, clutching her wrists.

"I'm not... leaving... forever," I said slowly, because even I wasn't sure about that. "I can't... breathe here. I can't... figure out what I want if he is... always... right in front of me. After what he did to me... after experiencing his abusive side... seeing what he's capable of... Tiff, I'm not even sure if these feelings I think I might have are real."

"What the heck do you mean?! You totally think he's hot!" she snapped. "So, what's the deal?!"

"Ever heard of Stockholm Syndrome?" I deadpanned, and she froze, staring at me with a shocked look of realization on her face. "Yeah. That's exactly why I need to have the space to sort myself out."

"B-but, that's not this, is it?"

"It might be, I don't know," I told her plainly, and she bit her lip, squeezing my shoulders. "I was hurt by him a lot before he brought me here, and after, too... not just physically, either. Sure, he apologized, but the thing is... the attraction I have for him began after he started hurting me too much and started needing to bring me back from the edge of death or suicidal breakdown by necessity. I somehow convinced myself that he didn't mean to hurt me and that there might be some silver lining when, in retrospect, it was wrong because he was hurting me."