8.

The next morning, I was somehow in a good mood, nothing could get me down today, not even Charles and his little antics. I got out of bed and go straight downstairs; Charles is sleeping on the couch, which is odd because I could have sworn, I left him in his room last night and Charles made a vow a few years to never sleep on the couch and he hasn’t until now. I walk over to the couch and tap his shoulder and whisper his name, he doesn’t respond.

“Charles,” I call out.

“Charles?” I call out again, a little louder.

“Dante!” I yell, he jumps and looks around before his eyes land on me and he lies back down and groans in frustration.

“What is wrong?” he asks groggily, rubbing his eyes.

“What are you doing on the couch?” I ask, his face falls and I immediately can tell that something is wrong. He sits up straight on the couch and I jump over the couch and sit beside him, preparing for a dramatic sob story.

“Damien ditched me last night,”

That doesn’t sound like Damien.

“Why?” I ask