forum Dorm Room 210 [Private RP // Closed — Stalkers welcome!]

Started February 26, 2019 by @Imperfect_Autumn group

tune

“I’ll be there in a minute,” Amber promised before starting for her room.

“All right,” William said gently before he also made his way to his room. He changed into his usual sleeping attire before he waited for Amber, laying back down on the bed.

While he was waiting, he thought back to what she had told him. He knew that if he ever saw that guy, or all the others she had been with… he would lash out on them. Not out of jealousy, but out of spite. Using his girlfriend, treating her like crap… he would never stand for it.

Amber really didn’t want to think about what he’d asked her about, but she knew they’d have to talk about it eventually. She just wished he’d maybe picked a better time…

A few minutes later, she walked out in leggings and his hoodie. She appeared in his doorway, giving him a small smile before making her way over and sitting in the edge of the bed.

Since it wasn’t the time to be thinking irrationally, William didn’t let his eyes linger over her for more than a few seconds. He opened his arms, beckoning her to lie down with him.

“Come on,” he muttered. “I want to hold you.”

Amber’s smile widened as she laid down and buried herself under the covers. She snuggled into his side, nuzzling his cheek. “Hey.”

“Hey yourself,” William murmured, holding her tightly, running his fingers through her hair. “You’re wonderful. Have I told you that today?”

Amber chuckled softly and wrapped an arm around his waist. “No, you have not. Please do elaborate.”

William snorted and rolled his eyes. “And you’re quite full of yourself, too. What do you wanna do?”

Amber laughed lightly and looked up at him. “Hm… Do you want to play a game?”

William quirked an eyebrow. “Depends on which game it is.”

“Truth or dare? Or twenty questions?” Amber suggested with a shrug.

“Twenty questions sounds good,” William replied. “You start, I guess.”

Amber clicked her tongue in thought. “Uh… What’s your middle name?”

“I don’t have one,” William responded, chuckling. “It’s just William Jones. What about you?”

“No middle name? Huh… All right, then,” Amber chuckled. “Mine is Lily.”

“Amber Lily Page,” William tested it on his tongue before a smile broke out on his lips. “I like it. What’s one of your best memories?”

Amber smiled when he said her name, reaching up to kiss his cheek. “Hm… When I was twelve, I went to a really big water park with my parents, and we had an amazing time. You?”

William scowled a little before he wiped it off. “I don’t have many best memories—mostly because of my anger—but my best moments revolved around speing time with my parents. Five to nine years of age.”

“Oh… Sorry, Will,” Amber murmured, snuggling closer to him. “What, uh, what happened?”

William sucked in a deep breath, his body tensing. Those weren’t pleasant memories, but he wanted to share. Not only because it was fair, but because he wanted to.

“My parents needed to live abroad for a few years. I couldn’t come along because I didn’t have a passport,” his face darkened and he took in a deep breath. His hold on his girlfriend tightened. “So my parents had me live with my grandmother. I lived with her for four years. I’ve never hated anyone more than her.”

Amber frowned slightly, reaching up to cup his cheek. “Do you want to talk about it?” she whispered softly.

“Do you want to hear about it?” William countered, leaning into her touch.

“I will always listen if you want to talk about it. If you don’t, then you don’t have to say anything,” Amber assured him gently.

William closed his eyes, releasing a shuddering breath. Amber deserved to know. She had shared a part of herself with him—it was only fair he did, too.

“My parents thought they were leaving me in good hands. It was winter, December, maybe? A week later, I was in my room, no blankets, no sheets. Absolute darkness. I wasn’t allowed to eat desserts at night, but I did it anyway, and being cold through the entire night was my punishment. I was ten,” William started, his voice bitter and hallow, fury present in them. It didn’t hurt as much as it angered him. “Thunder and I didn’t get along very well. My mom got me an iPod to listen to whenever it thundered at night, and sometimes if I wanted to, I’d sleep with her. My grandmother found out about it one night, and the next time it had thundered, she took away my iPod. Told me I was a coward and if I continued like this, I wouldn’t make it very far. Every night it thundered, she made sure I could hear every sound of it. And when I retaliated, I was punished further. So I kept everything in. I took in her harsh words, kept silent—tried to, anyway. The first time I showed anger… she locked me in my room and refused to feed me the entire day. I was twelve. So I kept in my anger, too. When my parents returned, they suspected nothing. Until thirteen-year-old-me snapped and snarled and hissed and went crazy. They realized something was wrong. They realized too late, I suppose.”

Amber felt a deep hatred simmering inside of her for the woman that did that to her boyfriend. She wrapped her other arm around him and tightened her hold on him.

“I’m sorry… I’m sorry you had to go through that. I wish I could could help you…” she whispered, her throat thick from emotion.

William just sighed, turning over to his side. He tangled their legs together, an arm over her with his hand still in her hair.

“My parents blame themselves,” William murmured quietly. “I don’t. I mean, I did at one point. I realized later on that it wasn’t their fault.”

“I’m glad you don’t blame them. It’s good that you don’t,” Amber murmured, burying her face in his neck.

“Yeah,” William muttered, mostly to himself. “Actually, they’re back home, and I need to visit. I wanted them to meet you.”

Amber smiled and looked up at him. “Really? That would be great, Will. I’d love to meet them.”

“Perfect,” William responded, her smile sending warmth through him. Telling her about his childhood, what caused him to develop his uncontrollable anger… it reopened wounds he had left unhealed. He never wanted to touch them, but sometimes he didn’t have a choice. This time, he shared willingly. In an attempt to steer the conversarion away, he continued with the game. “Who’s your favorite artist?”