Locked out

A/N I know, I know, wonderful title. Forgive me, but I am having a blank as to what I should call this little story. It’s a one-shot, relative to “the laundry” in the fact that it has the same characters, and it is a piece written while I was having writer’s block for all my other stories. Or rather, I just got the idea for this one and couldn’t fit it anywhere in my present stories. Hope you enjoy. And please review! )

I stared at the door in dumb shock, not really getting what was happening. I slowly reached toward the doorknob, and turned it. It still wouldn’t budge, no matter how hard I rattled the damn thing, or how hard I glared at the door. Shit. Thus I found myself sitting outside, in boxers, t-shirt and sneakers, on a beautiful, clear, freezing November night. oh yeah. And of curse, it just had to be four in the morning. Everyone just had to be asleep, and I just had to live in a new dorm with new windows impermeable to sound, and stone walls. Of course. Yes, I was lucky like that.

The wind threw a vicious, icy breeze around my ankles, and I snapped out of denial and indifference.

Aaaaaaaahh!! Scream and bang on the door. Take a gulp of air. Scream some more. Keep on banging.

Getting cold. Getting hoarse. Getting numb hands, and feet, and calves, and… yeah. Everything. In short, getting cold. Grrrraaaahh!!

I went around the building and repeated the process at all the doors (ie: two). At least it kept me slightly warm. Is every single one of them passed out cold or dead? Jeez. Need a plan. Need a plan. Need a p… yay! I ran over to the drainpipe, reached as high as I could, wedged my feet on the sides… and climbed two feet before I slipped back down again. No matter how hard I tried, after a very short while, gravitation my force of upward movement. Damn. Why didn’t they teach us to climb drain pipes in physics instead? With a sigh, I looked around me. Would I have to walk all the way other to the other dorm for the blue light thingies? And why the hell didn’t we have one here? What if I was being attacked? If I get sick, I’ll sue them.

“Open the fucking door!!” I screamed. There. If that didn’t do it, nothing would, and I would go.

I waited, and waited… and slumped against the cold rock wall. Shit.

“Would you shut the hell up?”

“Kieran!!”

“What.”

“Open the door!” I was standing up and frantically waving my arms over my head.

“Why?” … was the guy stupid or something? Wow. I mean, it’s Kieran we’re talking about here. He is a human being with unnatural mental abilities, …at least compared to me. And he is very nice. Most of the time. Perhaps he had been sleeping, and his brain was working on back up batteries…

“I locked myself out.”

“That should teach you to think before you act.”

“…”

“You just woke me up. In the middle of the night. I have an exam tomorrow. And I’m grumpy. Why should I help you out?” I must have looked like a fish. At least I felt like one, stranded without water.

“Kieran?” I whimpered. I couldn’t believe it. And my feet kind of decided to give up too, dumping me on the ground. Even with my head muffled in my arms, I heard the window close shut. I had been betrayed by my best friend. At least I think he was my best friend. … What if he didn’t like me? What if he was just hanging out with me because he was nice? And I actually was annoying the hell out of him?

I sniffed, and huddled onto myself as much as I could, feeling distressingly depressed. Two minutes. I’ll give myself just two minutes here, to get some strength, then I’ll go to that phone thing.

I think I fell asleep. Or maybe I was just daydreaming, because I didn’t feel so cold anymore. There was something comfortingly heavy around my shoulders. And warm. Oh so blissfully warm, I just had to smile, and open my eyes. It was still dark though. And I was still sitting outside. On a very numb ass I may add. Eh? I’m not the brightest crayon in the box sometimes, so it took me a little while to figure out that there was someone behind me, holding me close, wrapped up in a blanket and in their arms.

“Kieran?” my pains at identification were met by a grin and a roll of the eyes.

“Idiot.”

“You don’t like me. I’m just an annoyance.” I whispered, needing to know, yet afraid.

“Jees, do you have a fever?”

“See? You’re disregarding everything I say.” I felt the warm air from his sigh brush against my neck.

“You really are an idiot then to believe that.” He didn’t elaborate. Instead, he picked me up, and I hid my head in the large blanket, uncaring of the world outside the warmth. On the way, the fleeting thought of him having to carry me up two flights of stairs past through my mind, to be quickly annihilated by the now benumbing warmness that invaded my mind. I was slipping from consciousness into the arms of sleep.

With a yawn, I curled up around the blanket and gave up on even opening my eyes.

Baahh… warm… bright. Too bright. I cracked my eyes open and just looked at whatever was in front of me. I didn’t have a guitar. And the room was a mirror image of my own. Yup, I’m still sleeping. So I just burrowed deeper into the covers, turned around, …and fell out of the bed.

His head followed me over the edge to look at me questioningly.

“Why do you always have to make so much noise. Didn’t you have enough just by waking me up yesterday?”

“Yesterday? Ah. I locked myself out. And then you came, and you brought me to my room. … but you didn’t.” I looked around again. Nope, not my room.

“Were you really that spaced out? I brought you here, made you some tea, which you drank by the way, then we talked for a little while, and since you were still shaking from cold, and looked very blue, I slept with you to keep you warm.”

“Ah… I did? You… did?”

“Yes. Now come back up here and let me sleep some more, eh?” his head disappeared out of my sight again. I blinked, looked around for the umpteenth time… and climbed back into bed.

To hell with it.

Nice warm arms snaked around me, and I fell asleep again, with my head on his shoulder. Before I once again slipped out of consciousness, I smiled.

Yep, need to get locked out more often.