I woke up hours before Damien, his arms wrapped around my waist and one palm over my bare thigh. I was dressed in shorts and one of his shirts, while he only had his boxers on. It took me close to seven minutes before I finally wiggled out of his grasp, and I had to hold back a laugh when he grabbed my pillow and smelled it in his sleep.

Maybe he had a thing for me. Maybe I had a thing for him. Who knows?

I didn't bother to put in my brown contact, he had seen my eyes anyway, and I always preferred to paint without it. I felt more like me without it, like the invisible barrier I put up magically disappeared. Plus, my art always seemed to come out better when I didn't wear it.

I pulled out the canvas I had brought with me and both the oil and acrylic paints, dumping them all out of his desk alongside my favorite paint brushes. I had a skull cup of water and a towel for whenever I needed to change colors, along with a artist plate and a mixer.

In all honesty, he was an angel, whether he knew it or not. As much as I loved and adored my mother, a person could only take so much. I pretended that her words never hurt me, but they did. They were like little knives sticking themselves into my skin constantly, and Damien seemed to rip them out and heal my wounds without even saying a word.

But the again, he was the devil in disguise. Wearing a suit and a smile, his horns could be seen from miles away, but his grin covered them from my eyes. He was beautiful and painful, his words cut me more than he knew. More than he would ever know, because I would try to never hurt him like the way I have been.

And that's what I painted.

I only had an outline, but I was already proud of it. It was of him leaning against a wall with wings sprouting from his back, enveloping the entire canvas. He had a small halo with light emitting from its very being, with two little horns and a staff grasped within his hand.

I didn't notice the sun come up as I brushed little strokes of paint along his clothes. I didn't feel him stir beside me as I added detail to his hair, trying to get as close to the ebony shade his locks were. I only noticed when he mumbled something incoherent, and his eyes popped open.

They landed on me painting, and a grin overtook his face, reminding me very much of the devil within him. "Come back to bed babe."

I raised an eyebrow, rolling my eyes as he closed his and snuggled deeper into the covers. "When did I become babe?"

"About twenty minutes into Return of the King when you kissed me in your sleep." I scoffed as I began to put away my paints, trying to clean up as much of the mess as I could.

"I did no such thing!" He chuckled before standing and waltzing right out the room, opening the door across the hall and two doors down.

"Joey!" I heard a scream of surprise leave Joey as I laughed, falling onto the bed while my body shook. "Did Fern kiss my neck while she was sleeping during the third Lord of the Rings movie?"

"Yes! Now get the fuck out!" He returned with a smug look on his face as he shut the door, wiggling his eyebrows at me.

This man was so much different than the one I met weeks ago, so much looser and less cold. "Shut up you big butthole."

He chuckled before launching himself back on the bed, tugging me down with him before pulling the covers over us. I looked to the clock next to us that read 6:07, my eyes rolling at how we had close to an hour before we needed to fully wake up.

I put my head in between his neck and the pillow, breathing in the scent of his aftershave and lingering cologne. I grinned as I placed another kiss, right along the curve of his neck, and held in my giggles when he stiffened next to me.

"What're you doing to me?" He whispered so low, I could barely hear it under my deep breathes.

-

Waking up Joey the first time had been easy, waking him up the second time was the worst experience of my life. I had begged, pleaded, even pushed him out of his bed onto the cold floor! But all he did was curl up and scuttle under his bed and into the realms of dust bunnies and things I shan't dare name.

Seriously, I don't know when the last time under his bed was cleaned.

"Joey, I'll find you a hot girl or something for you to kiss?" I pleaded, but only wanted me a grunt and a fake snore.

I looked over to Damien, who stood in the doorway and was watching me with a lip log amusement. I groaned before throwing myself onto Joeys recliner he had before a seriously impressive gaming system, Xbox, PS4, and the millions of games he had for each of them.

"Joey, what do I have to do to get you dressed and out of this goddamn room?" I begged one last time, watching as his head peaked out from his hiding place.

"Go on a date with Damien." My eyebrows shot up as I looked at Damien, his face tinging red and his mouth agape.

"Did he ask you to ask me that?" I looked back at him, his body slowly inching out.

"No, but he asked all of us how to ask you and we all figured he's too much of a wuss to ask you himself." I laughed as Damien glared at Joey with his impressive Italian smolder, before nodding slowly.

"Alright, I'll go. But nothing to expensive, I don't have a dress good enough for any restaurants that the steak is over twenty bucks at." Both of their faces snapped to me, Damien's shocked and Joeys filled with joy.

"Good, that means we get to take you shopping this afternoon, now get out!" My mouth opened to protest but Joey shoved both Damien and I out of his room before slamming the door closed behind him.

I looked over to Damien, who's cheeks were still pink along the edges, causing my heart to stutter. "You were serious, you'll go on a date with me?"

I grinned before nodding, tucking a shaggy piece of hair behind my ear. "Yeah, for one the project, which is coming up to be due soon, and two, I actually kinda like you you hotheaded arrogant Italian asshat."

"Way to ruin the mood Fern."

***

"Come on, you have to try this dress on!"

"For the last time Joey, I am not wearing any pink nor will anything remotely close to leopard print will touch my skin!"

"Come on, I go on dates with girls that swear that stuff and they always look hot!"

I groaned for what seems to be the millionth time in the mall. "Joey, you go on dates with Courtney and Danielle, who are complete opposites to me."

He grumbled before putting back the pink dress that was so short, I barely even considered it a dress. We had been at the mall for close to two hours, and hadn't found anything yet that either of us deemed good enough.

Even worse, Charles was forced to come along for quote unquote "protection," which seemingly pissed him off even more.

"Why does it matter if you look like a slut, Damien will probably just fuck you and then dump you, you're not special." I whirled around in the little dress store we just entered, my eyes blazing with the fury within me.

"What the fuck is your problem wth me!? Have I don't something to you to make you hate me or something?"

He locked his jaw before taking a step closer to me, my eyes looking around to find Joey was no where in sight. "No, it just pisses me off that you have Damien wrapped around your little fucking finger and tug at him all the time. We don't even know you!"

"I haven't done anything to ruin your trust! And I'm sorry if Damien likes me, I happen to like him back! Is that your problem with me? The fact he likes me?!"

He was silent, his eyes widening as panic flitted across his face so fast I almost didn't catch it. My breath caught in my throats as I stared at him, and I swear it was like a fucking cartoon. I expected a lightbulb to implode right above my head and light the way, because suddenly everything made so much sense.

"Charles, are you gay?" He grit his teeth before flinging his hand over my mouth, getting closer to my face that I would like.

"Shut your fucking mouth."

"Charles, it's okay. There isn't anything wrong with being gay-"

"I said shut up!" I looked into his dark eyes, watching at they opened and bared his soul to me for the first time.

Of course, he had a crush on Damien. I mean, I wasn't mad, you can't do anything about liking anyone, but I hated how he took it out on me. I guess I understood, I was competition, but from what I understand, Damien isn't gay or bi.

"I won't tell, but I think you should." He huffed as he took a step back, running his hands through his hair.

"You don't understand, I mean, look at you! Your mother doesn't hate you for being gay, and your in love with someone who could love you back! I've loved him for three years Fern, three, and every time I get the nerve I back down as soon as I see him."

I took a breathe, internally scolding myself for what I was about to say. "My mother hates me."

"No she doesn't."

"Yes, she does. She hates me for being the only person in our family left alive. My father and my little sister, Stella, their both dead. She's an alcoholic and yells at me if I even dare leave the house. She thinks I'm leaving her, like they did."

He's quiet for a moment, his eyes studying me. "That's why you had that outburst a few days back."

I nodded slowly as he took a breath, his finger wringing together. "Okay, I'll tell everyone later on tonight, and maybe I'll tell Damien. I mean, I know he won't have feelings for me, but I still think I should tell him, don't you?"

I nodded slowly, giving him a soft smile before sticking my hand out. "Friends?"

"Don't push your luck."