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Heathcliff had no idea what came over him. He stood alone in the empty hallway, staring into the hotel’s wall and contemplating why he had actually thought it was a good idea to just up and leave his room.
It was just in the heat of a moment. Maybe he just couldn’t stand her right exactly on a wrong night. Well, in general BOTH of them couldn’t stand each other, but this one interaction just felt particularly horrid, and it was perhaps fueled with the fact that there was only one bed, and that he hasn’t gotten any good night’s sleep in a while. So what did he do? He just walked out.
Granted, taking a breather at first was nice. But now he was met with a problem; he absolutely refuses to go back inside the room with Ishmael. Going back in there meant that there’s a high percent chance that they’re going to be biting each other’s necks off once more if Ishmael remains awake, and another chance at another fight if one of them takes someone’s space or snores loudly while deep unconscious. He’d rather not deal with that tonight.
Come to think of it, It really was strange that both of them always get paired up whenever the bus stops by any passing hotel. Was it some kind of cruel fate for both of them?
Heathcliff, stubborn as ever, continued to idle around the halls. He was faced with a completely different problem. If he did not want to sleep with Ishmael, then he had to find a different place to snooze.
Everyone was sorted in pairs, and if his first room only had one bed, then the same could be said for the rest of them. Heathcliff had tried to go around knocking in each of his coworkers' rooms to see if there was any available space, but…
“Faust would rather sleep soundly tonight.”
“Eh? Sorry bud, I would have let you, but I don’t think we have any more space.”
“You’ll be B.E.A.T.E.N.”
All his attempts were unsuccessful.
He was increasingly getting crankier at each passing second. If sweepers weren’t a thing then he would have considered just sleeping outside on top of Mephistopheles, but they were in the backstreets, so that was not an option at all. Maybe he could just go back to Ishmael’s room and sleep on the floor, his dignity would be at stake but he’d rather just get some shut eye for once than fighting.
Resigning, Heathcliff was on his way back to his room. That was until he bumped into something. "Gah–!" Heathcliff felt like he just pushed someone hard, did he? He groaned in annoyance and looked at what that may be.
"Ah, sir Heathcliff!!"
A rather high and annoying voice rang in his ears loudly. It caused him to jolt, because who could even expect to hear something so loud under complete silence? What’s worse is that he knew where that voice came from just when he caught a glimpse of that very vibrant blonde hair in his lower peripherals.
"Ah bloody hell— can you shut it with your tosh speaking for just one night? You're going to wake everyone up!" Heathcliff whisper yelled to her, as if his door to door knocking wasn’t doing the same thing. Don Quixote made an oh! sound and lowered her voice with a hush.
"How strange of you to be up at this hour, tis quite late at night already!" Her voice did not sound like a whisper. Heathcliff sighed, "Could say the same about you. The hell are you even doing outside your room?”
“Well…” She began, “I hath simply wandered out to discover what grueling sounds hath been heard outside mine chambers.” Don Quixote said. It looked like she could've said more, but she paused. Her eyes sparkling as ever, began to focus on Heathcliff. She scrutinized him, placing her hand against her chin in thought in a very animated fashion. It made Heathcliff wonder what the hell was she up to when both her hands immediately clasped in revelation.
“Oh! But perhaps I've come to a realization that it may have been your presence that I hath heard? Surely it must be? I could actually imagine your presence making all that noise outside.”
Okay, that ticked him off.
“The fuck did you just say?” Heathcliff gritted his teeth.
“I speak of no ill intent, sir Heathcliff!” Don Quixote gave a mirthful laughter, “I believe your grumbling and heavy footsteps just made me believe that there was a beast roaming! I'll have to thank you for confirming that there's no such thing, as I do not have to stain bloodshed on these poor walls tonight.”
Heathcliff wondered if this was a good time to bash her head against the wall, it was REALLY tempting. But he had little to no energy after whatever he went through back in his room, so he gave up and just went along with her… delusional ramblings.
Don Quixote suddenly pointed at Heathcliff, “Now, I hath told you of mine reasoning, I believe it is now your turn to tell me why thou is to wander outside?”
“Ishmael kicked me outta our room, what else is new?” Heathcliff answered as straightforwardly as possible, he had decided that he needed to finish this interaction quickly.
“Oh! Hast thou infuriate her once again?” Don Quixote hummed, but she looked more… interested now? “Art thou planning to sleep in another chamber, then?”
“It was more so she infuriated me, but okay.” He groaned, “And I tried. But none of them were willing to budge and share. I’m just gonna go back and snooze on the floor, so can you just piss off already?” Heathcliff didn’t wait for her response as he began to head back to his room. Unfortunately, his mistake was thinking that she would listen to that and be done with it.
Don Quixote seemed more eager now, immediately stepping to her tip toes as she tried to reach Heathcliff's height. It catches him off guard when she suddenly grabs on to his shoulders in an iron death grip. “What the—”
Heathcliff was really trying his best not to do anything, but Don Quixote was starting to run his patience thin. “Oh for fuck’s sake, can you leave it already?!” "I’m afraid I shant. Please listen closely and heed my words even for just a brief moment!”
She continued on even though Heathcliff was already protesting. “As fixers and coworkers, I surely cannot leave thee in peril! I could already foresee that thou’s nights shall be stressful if this pairing persists, so! Allow me to take thine place as Ishmael’s roommate.”
That stopped Heathcliff from verbally insulting her.
“Oi, am I hearing that right?”
“Mhm! I am paired with Meursault if you wish to be aware. While I am not certain about your relationship towards him, I can at least assure that he is fully unconscious, so you may sleep peacefully if that is what you desire.”
“So how about it? Shall we strike the deal?” Don Quixote smiled and extended her hand towards him.
For once, Don Quixote actually gave a decent suggestion to him. It really was a less of a horrible idea than usual, so Heathcliff thought about it. He doesn’t know how Ishmael’s gonna fare with Don Quixote by her side, but should he even care? And for Meursault, he was so quiet sometimes that he wouldn’t even notice his presence at worst.
Perhaps the sudden switch may be awkward if he were to wake up, but it wasn’t like the two had anything to talk about. If it means complete silence…
“Fine, fine! I’ll take it.” Heathcliff waved his hands nonchalantly, before taking her hand and shaking it briefly. “Door’s not locked, no?”
“Tis quite certainly locked, however I do possess the key, so I shall pass it on to you.” She fished them out of her pockets, before handing them to Heathcliff. “I best be on my way then! I do not want to keep the l-lady waiting!” She panicked midway in her sentence, and immediately headed towards the direction that led to her room.
Well, that was weird. What was that about?
Heathcliff shrugged it off. What matters is that he can ACTUALLY get some decent sleep for once, so he walks to where the room was supposed to be based on the room key and immediately unlocked the door.
The room was definitely no different from his upon entering. It was just a small room that fits a single size bed and a few tables here and there. Heathcliff had expected to just quietly squeeze himself on the bed and get some shut eye, but when he finally focused on the bed he was face to face with Meursault’s very awake eyes.
Heathcliff tensed. Maybe it was just him, but Meursault looked a tad bit terrifying when he’s just staring without a word, in the dark no less. The silence was long and uncomfortable, what the hell was he supposed to say? Something stupidly and absurdly british just to see him react or move? It was tempting, but even he found that idea stupid.
“...Oi, what the hell are you staring at?” He ended up asking instead, and a sigh of relief washed over him when Meursault began to speak.
“I believe that you may have gotten in the wrong room. Don Quixote was supposed to be here after leaving so abruptly.” Straight to the point and blunt as always. “Ahh, ‘bout that.” Heathcliff gestured his hand outside, before closing the door behind him. “She asked me to switch places with her, you know her and her sudden actions and all that.”
“I see.”
Meursault gave a nod, no questions asked. Heathcliff decided that this one interaction was good enough. He approached the bed and ushered Meursault to give him space. “Scoot over now, will ya?”
—
Heathcliff cannot sleep, and that deeply frustrates him.
He has his eyes open for like, what? A few minutes now? Closing them and counting sheep had done nothing, so he was hoping that by keeping his eyes open it may help. No luck though, it didnt do shit.
Both his and Meursault’s backs were pressed against each other the entire time. It was a miracle that they somehow fit in this bed, given how uncomfortably squeezed he was against the other to avoid falling. Heathcliff would think that this whole setup may be the issue, and while it was a part of it, another thing was plaguing his mind.
This day in general felt horrible. It wasn’t even just the whole debacle he experienced with Ishmael earlier, something about today felt off and almost everyone had annoyed or pissed him off more than usual. It was definitely due to his lack of rest causing that. Which was ironic, because it had caused him to think and become cranky instead of sleeping right now.
“All of you are fucking strange.” He suddenly blurted out, and when Meursault had not reacted, that gave him the go signal to continue on just talking to himself, albeit in mutters and whispers. “A bunch of… good for nothin’ wankers, I say.”
He does this sometimes. When a day’s just not it, Heathcliff would complain to himself to let off some steam. He may have some anger issues but his coworkers are by far more insane than him. It made sense for him to complain constantly just by going to whatever absurd situation the group finds themselves in.
He first complained about Ishmael, how she absolutely just loves to bite his throat as he does to her. It was starting to get tiring in a way, but he doubted that their aggression for one another would cease so he complained about that too. Heathcliff also complains about Don Quixote about how… absurd she is. It died down a bit after Vergilius’ confrontation, but it was still there.
This went on and on for the rest of the sinners, until he finally reached Meursault. He paused for a moment, unsure if he should say this while in the same room as him, but given he still hasn’t responded yet… he began.
"And I can't forget this lousy tight lipped bloke with me. What's his deal anyways? Lumbering jobber can't run his mouth if his life depends on it...be like flogging a dead horse to make him do anything interesting...now that I think about it...what does he even do? Never seen 'im faff around like the other sinners--always in the background despite the odd fucking things he’s mentioned ‘bout himself...what is this twat playing at?"
Meursault confused him. Greatly. Truth be told he did not care for this man at first. He barely spoke in the beginning, and he only did orders efficiently without resistance. It was the complete opposite of him who did not pay attention to Dante, and did whatever he wanted. So in some cases he does get annoyed by his presence. Nothing too bad.
But then Nagel Un Hammer came. Meursault revealed whatever he had to say about himself, and Heathcliff was one of the first to speak up against him. The entire conversation left a bitter taste in his mouth in the end, and left him with more questions than answers. The thoughts get worse when he recalls the whole distortion case in Eunbong’s—the way he just flipped off the script with how he saw him, while retaining his usual cold and stoic manner was the nail in the coffin for him.
This was stupid. He never took into account that he actually had a lot to say about him once he was at close proximity.
Pins and needles had interrupted his ramblings to a halt. He grimaced when he looked down at his legs and realized how uncomfortable their placement was. Not like he could do anything with how cramped the bed is, so he tried to move it away from the edge in hopes to get it to stop. Heathcliff groaned, “This bed is going to be the death of me, fucking hell…”
“I suggest that we should adjust our position if you have difficulty sleeping." Meursault’s voice suddenly felt close in his ears, too close . Heathcliff screamed in surprise and almost fell.
“What the—?!” Heathcliff immediately turned around and saw his face was mere inches away from Meursault’s. He instinctively took one of his hands and pushed his face as far as he could. It did not budge, but that wasn’t his only problem. “Were you awake this entire time?!”
“Oui. I’ve noted your discomfort, and have been listening to you speak for exactly ten minutes.” He answered without moving away from Heathcliff’s hand. He can’t help but shrivel up a little hearing that. Not only has he heard him talk smack about everyone, but he also listened without saying a word .
“Oi, whatever you heard me say was complete nonsense, you hear?!” Heathcliff began to rebut, even though Meursault had not said anything else about it. Meursault seemed to ignore that claim to his displeasure, and continued speaking. “It is already 1 am. It would affect our work performance greatly if both of our bodies are sore in the morning due to our position. That, and loss of sleep from discomfort could contribute to it”
Heathcliff had no idea how to react to that. He was ready to deny his habits to him but Meursault just brushed it away? He just continued. “I may suggest doing quick exercises, or taking a warm shower. Those have been proven to work well with sleep loss.”
His eyebrows twitched and pulled his hand away. “Are you seriously going to make me move around just so I could doze off? Mate, you shoulda know that I’m not in the best of moods already. I’m just going to be more pissed at you specifically if I hafta do all that work.”
Meursault huffed and looked like he was in deep thought. “There is another way that allows you to be idle, if you refuse those suggestions.” Afterwards he proceeded to say something so… uncharacteristically for someone of his stature.
“Sexual activity reduces stress and allows the brain to release endorphins and oxytocin to aid one to sleep. I believe this is one of the effective ways to help you with your problem.”
…
Activity what now?
Heathcliff was speechless. Was there something in his ears to mishear or did Meursault actually suggest that to him? Meursault did not even elaborate himself further, which only confirmed that he truly said what he said. He gripped his head, unable to form any words as he stared at him with utter shock.
“Wait, w-wait a darn minute…. Are you telling me to wank off? Is that it? Are you aware of what you’re spouting or is there nothing in that noggin of yours?”
"I have several organs present inside my head. One being the pair of eyes that you can see, another being my tongue, and so on." Meursault said. He retained his usual stoic expression, and that meant he was serious about this. “I will leave if you wish to be left alone, however I may be of assistance if you truly refuse to move.”
“... You…”
This is the most Meursault has talked, almost so more than back in Eunbong’s, and this is by far the strangest and gobsmacking conversation that Heathcliff had the chance of being part of.
Was he being made fun of? Is that what’s going on? As embarrassing as that suggestion was, that last remark actually made him feel infuriated with how condescending it sounded to him. He suddenly grabbed Meursault’s collar and pulled him closer to eye level. “You’re belittling me aren’t ya? Is that how you see me right now? Like some damsel in distress that needs others to do the work for me? Is that it?” Venom was spat with his words, but Meursault remained unfazed.
"I fail to see how you reached that conclusion." Meursault replied, "As far as I'm aware, I've only given you suggestions that may benefit you.”
Heathcliff was experiencing the same amount of frustration he felt back then. “Hah? Do you really think that being straightforward is going to get you anywhere? Is that really all you have to say?“
Meursault nodded. He showed no sign of caring for his hostility. “There is nothing more to add. I have made my intentions clear.”
Both of them had a stare off. Heeathcliff wanted to burst right there, give him a good beating even, but just staring at his eyes… It was starting to dawn on him that Meursault really wasn't budging.
This entire conversation has finally made Heathcliff realize that if Meursault says anything, then he means it. 100% of the time even. There were no hidden lies nor crossed fingers, just blunt and unwavering truth. It felt frustrating in a way, because that meant he really has to take in everything Meursault has to say at face value.
"Bollocks… I'm too janked for this nonsense." He suddenly shoved his hands away from Meursault's collar and turned to face the other side of the bed and lie down.
He muttered under his breath, "If you have the knack to say all that shit, then at least prove it instead of sitting there."
He'd rather force himself to sleep than to continue talking, so imagine his surprise when he suddenly felt Meursault’s arms grab his body.
“If you wish.”
"What the—!?"
Heathcliff was pushed against the not so soft cushions of the bed. He was unable to react at first, but his eyes almost bulged out when he saw Meursault position himself lower. His hands pressed firmly against his thighs, and spread them apart.
Dear god, Heathcliff can’t help but stare in utter bewilderment. That was supposed to be a throwaway statement, a taunt even. He did not think Meursault would actually take it seriously. (In hindsight, he did just realize that he would in general, but it still surprises him.)
Despite the compromising position, Meursault did not continue at all. He only sat there in obedient silence, as if he’s waiting for Heathcliff’s next command. "Is this position to your liking? Or should we adjust?"
"...You actually serious ‘bout this?" Were the only words that could exit his mouth.
“Does it come off as a surprise? You did ask for it.” Meursault tilted his head. It looked like he was relaying that he was confused at that statement, while retaining his usual uncaring face. It… almost looked cute in a way, that his body does more work at expressing himself than his face. Heathcliff tried to shake that thought off immediately.
Heathcliff noticed that Meursault did not continue at all. Both of them stared at each other, and he realized that he has to make an answer now.
A normal person would correct themselves about this misunderstanding, by all means they should. But see here’s the thing, he just unintentionally told him to commit. To which, for some BLOODY reason he was doing. How was Heathcliff supposed to deal with that? Two sides of his head fought like his life depended on it, all for a decision to confirm or deny this. In the end, the stubborn bloke side of his mind won, and he decided that he should not back off after Meursault was doing exactly as what his words were suggesting.
Blood rushed inside Heathcliff’s cheeks and they grew warmer. His mouth quivered for his reply until he bit his tongue and resigned.
“Fuck. Fine. This one’s fine, just make it quick.”
Meursault nodded and began to work. He took off his slacks with ease, and so came off his boxers afterwards to expose his cock in the air. Heathcliff shivered, a form of shame suddenly overtook him when he felt so vulnerable, so to save any of his last bit of dignity, he grabbed just shut his eyes tight and covered it with one of his arms.
He felt a large hand begin to wrap around the base of his cock. It was wet and slick, presumably from his saliva. To his surprise it was less calloused than what he’d expected for a fella that throws punches at the battlefield, but it felt just right, he thought.
Heathcliff tried to bite back a groan, or suppress any physical reaction as his hand began to run down his length at a steady pace. It admittedly felt good, really good enough for his cock to slowly erect in its place. But he’d rather jump off the window right now than let Meursault see him like that.
Still, a warm, fuzzy feeling began to form in his chest, and pre began to build up from there.
Meursault took his hand away. The bed’s cushions moved, and Heathcliff almost tensed when his hot breath down there. He stayed like that, almost as if he was teasing Heathcliff from his breathing alone, which semi worked, he did feel like going insane when that was all he was giving him. He opened his mouth to complain, but was quickly shut up when Meursault kissed the head.
He plastered so many kisses all at once, leaving not a spot behind. Occasionally he’d slip his tongue out, lathering and grazing his skin with enough pressure to cause his cock to twitch. Firecrackers were running across Heathcliff’s veins, and he couldn't help but take deep, shaky breaths in response.
“F-fuck…” Heathcliff groaned. To have someone else do this to him after so long, his coworker no less, felt strange. He had to remind himself that they were just doing this just to get him to sleep, once it’s over then they’re done.
But why… Why does it feel so…—?
A sharp, electrifying feeling ran course in his body, and Heathcliff almost choked on spit.
He felt Meursault’s mouth envelope half of his length already. He wasted no time to begin sucking him off, and he used the same hand from earlier to double the stimulation he gave. It sounded like Meursault was indulging on his cock, groaning with his mouth full and all. He could hear the very, very lewd and wet noises coming beneath him.
Heathcliff hasn’t opened his eyes yet, but he felt that he was close to losing his grip on trying to keep his mouth shut. He’d expected Meursault to suck at this, but he was doing so well that he felt ecstatic . He was experienced, that he could tell, and each action done to his cock caused a burning sensation to erupt and thaw out in a constant, unbearable cycle. He was getting close, and his head felt like spinning.
But it wasn’t enough. This felt like it was drawing out for too long, and perhaps it was because Meursault was sticking to one pace rather than mixing it up. It was excruciating, enough so that his hand went down and gripped a tuff of Meursault’s hair hard. It caused him to let out a soft gasp, and in response he went deeper.
Both of his hands pressed firmly against his thighs, pushing them against his body as he took more of his size. Meursault was slurping and blowing him real good, and his tongue swirled around his shaft to make sure everything was getting attention.
Meursault went deeper. He made wet, slick noises down there as he took more of his cock to the point where it was really deep. What the hell? Does he not have a gag reflex?
Heathcliff thought about it but decided to make sure. His hand that held Meursault began to push him until he reached the end of his length. He heard Meursault choke as his body tensed, pausing for a moment. Heathcliff may have heard a moan coming from him.
His voice was struggling, but still attempted to suck him off even so. Heathcliff told himself that he’s going to refuse looking down on him the entire session for the sake of his dignity, but he just can’t shake off the feeling of curiosity on how Meursault was fairing down there. He bit his lip, before giving in and opening his eyes.
That was his mistake.
He caught a glimpse of how Meursault looked down there, and it stifled his breath to a halt. His hair was disheveled with his hand gripping it. His skin glistened with sweat, and his cheeks were already flushed with a reddish tint. What got to him even more was the sight of his entire cock hilted inside his throat. He was taking it in like a champ despite the eyebrow crease being present.
Meursault never stopped even as they locked their gazes to each other. His half lidded eyes were focused on Heathcliff, and Heathcliff only. Hell, there was a twinge of emotion that looked like he enjoyed this, and his actions further proved it. It drove Heathcliff into some sort of high, to see how dedicated he looked in this position that it felt just right—
Heathcliff’s hips suddenly bucked deeper against the other’s throat. Strings of moans began to come out of him as his body trembled in anticipation. Meursault seemed to understand what was going on. Despite the gagging noises he made, he hastened his movements to the point where Heathcliff felt like he was close to screaming just from it.
And then he came.
His back arched and he let out a shaky, drawn out moan. Meursault’s eyes winced as he took in Heathcliff’s load, barely swallowing it all before pulling out. Excess cum dripped from the corner of his mouth and he coughed anything else that got stuck inside his throat. It was a hot sight, and it got Heathcliff staring more than he should have.
Post nut clarity hit him hard. Many things crashed and dawned on him, for example, he actually agreed to get his dick sucked just for him to sleep— that and the fact that thanks to this turn of events, Heathcliff sort of found some of the things that Meursault does… attractive? He wasn’t certain if that’s the right word.
It’s a complicated feeling that just popped up now, he’ll think about it more in the morning.
He saw Meursault sit up, wiping away any excess cum that still remained in his mouth. He also sat up, and for the first time he didn’t know what to say first.
“Was that satisfactory?” Meursault broke the silence, and Heathcliff just nodded. “Y-yeah, yeah. Guess you can say that.” He took one glance at him and saw a very noticeable bulge forming against the tent of his pants. It was large, and Heathcliff had no idea how to react seeing that.
“...hey, at least let me return the favor, yeah?” Heathcliff didn’t know why he said that, but to his surprise, Meursault shook his head. “There is no need. It is getting late, and you need to rest.” He suddenly held Heathcliff and dragged him down the bed with him.
"E-eh? the hell are you doing—"
Meursault wrapped his arms around him. Heathcliff actually tried to resist this one, but he was still a tad weaker than him. It was a futile attempt, but an attempt no less. Heathcliff found himself pressed against his body. There was no way he could squeeze himself out of this, and for a brief moment his mind was completely blank. They stayed like that for a good while.
It almost looked like they were cuddling , which did not seem like something Meursault would do. Flustered as he was, he also wondered about that. "...Why are we doing this again?" He asked.
"If you recall, I suggested earlier that we should have a better sleeping position. It is better to huddle like this than how we slept earlier.
"And you don't… Find this weird? Like at all?"
"It's out of convenience. I see no reason to perceive it as such."
“...Whatever you say.”
Silence eventually took over. Heathcliff thought that this would be the end of their conversation, he tried to sleep but he felt Meursault’s boner just stick against his thigh. He winced, and closed his eyes to mind his own business. But with how it rubbed on him made it impossible to ignore.
“Oi, your boner’s bothering me.” Heathcliff groaned. He rubbed his eyes and glanced at Meursault who looked at him back. There was a light flush on his face, and that told him everything.
“Both of us aren’t getting any sleep if this is still there. Let me move.” Heathcliff turned himself around so that his back was pressed against Meursault. His hand then went down to hover over the seams of his pants, before zipping them open.
“Just… use my legs or somethin, yeah?”
Again, he didn’t know why he was doing this. At this point he just believes it's out of convenience, like how Meursault says.
Meursault said nothing this time. He did not provide any input however Heathcliff felt him adjust accordingly to his advances. He took out his cock and positioned them between his legs.
A chill ran up Heathcliff’s spine when he felt them sandwiched between his thighs. It was… big, really big. He was holding his breath when Meursault slung an arm around his waist with ease. And slowly, he began to push himself against his skin.
There was already enough pre to allow Meursault to slide on and off easily. It started off as slow, but eventually picked up the pace as Meursault’s hold on Heathcliff tightened. Wet skin against skin noises were heard from them, and his balls slapped hard against the back of his thigh.
Heathcliff felt Meursault’s breath against his neck. It was shaky, and he shivered at the thought of his face being at close proximity. This entire last minute fuck was making him feel weird, but he chose to ignore them for now. He just needed to make Meursault come.
Meursault’s thrusts became erratic. He took this as a sign to tighten his thighs, and it caused a sudden gasp from behind him. “I-I’m close…”
He suddenly pressed his face against his neck, and it made Heathcliff’s chest flutter for a bit. It remained there, his gasps and moans barely audible to his ears. It was small and sweet, almost cute even, and a part of him can’t deny his anticipation for more.
His voice began to grow louder, until one final thrust inside Heathcliff’s thigh finally relieved him from his climax. His load shot out, staining the bed and the floor. Some of it ran down Heathcliff’s thigh too. Meursault was panting, shuddering even. It took him a few seconds to recover before he slowly took them out.
It was finally over, Heathcliff thought. Meursault allowed his face to remain by his neck, breathing and recollecting himself before admitting, “...I’ve made a mess..”
“So did I. We’re even, mate.” Was all he could answer.
There wasn’t anything else that both could say. So they remained like that, with Meursault holding Heathcliff closer to him than ever. He was not sure if Meursault had already slept, but seeing as he didn’t speak anymore, he can assume that much.
Heathcliff just stared at the wall. Thoughts were running in his head, and he cannot help but feel so… conflicted. Being held like this was nice, but this may just be a one time thing. He cannot fathom the idea that they would do this again in the future, but there was a tiny part of him that wishes that they could’ve gone further.
But no, he shook those thoughts away. He groaned and shut his eyes, he’d rather not think about this anymore lest he go insane.
The next morning finally came, and both of them did not say a word to each other as they cleaned up the mess they made.