(Revised) Keeping A Straight Face | ✏️

Chapter 3

Darko's POV

Something is seriously up with Taylor.

It's midnight. Taylor and I have been chilling in the lounge room, watching TV and eating snacks. He's just left to pee. I caught him staring off into space about three or four times during one of the movies he picked. Taylor never does that. Especially if it's a movie he loves. He's just so far away.

I know since the accident with his father, things haven't been the same for obvious reasons, but tonight he seemed really in his head. Like, he'd laugh when something funny happened in the show, or he'd respond with a grunt or something when I made a comment about a scene, but something just doesn't feel right. He normally has a good handle on things that involve his mum. Ms Ferguson has been unstable for a while now, but Taylor always puts a brave face on.

If he's upset, he'd say something, right? Or if he's hanging on by a thread, maybe pressing him isn't the best idea. Note to self; don't press on it. Or, maybe, he does want to talk about it, but doesn't know how to bring it up? Is he just waiting for me to ask him if he's okay? Note to self; press on it.

Ugh, this is confusing. Maybe he just needs a good old-fashioned distraction from his best mate. Yeah, if I can make him laugh, maybe that will help. Now, if he'd just get out of the bathroom...

I check the time on my smartwatch. He's taking so long in there, it's been like fifteen minutes. Not that he's missing much anyway, the episode of American Horror Story we're watching is dragging on. This newer season is not for me.

I'll give him five more minutes.

I prop my head on my arm, leaning it on the couch's armrest. I start counting in my head the number of seconds that pass as my eyes glaze over. I miss Sarah Paulson being in the show. Shit, I lost count. Thirty seconds? I'll start from there. Thirty one, thirty two, thirty three...

My blinks get heavier and heavier, until...

I jolt awake. Nope, that's it. I'm calling it a night.

Staying up past midnight is normally not that big of an issue for me, but fuck, it's been a long day. I did cardio in the morning at the gym, I had an exam after that, and another assignment due at lunch that I hadn't started until last night. Then, I had to run to another deli to get food because the local deli near campus was closed, making me late for my weekly hang-out sesh with Taylor in the theatre room.

My bed... I can hear it calling my name.

I turn the TV off and walk to the kitchen. Opening my pantry door, I throw in the leftover snacks. Wait. Is that...?

Ooh yeah baby, pandan-flavoured Poki sticks. Taylor is going to absolutely lose it when he sees this. It's his favourite snack. I thought he ate the last of his stash last time he was here – he sometimes keeps his best snacks at my place, otherwise Ana will eat them.

As I grab the box, I hear a footstep behind me. Then, something small and hard pokes into my side, making me jump in both pain and shock. I smash the back of my head against the bottom of one of the cupboard's shelves. "Oof!"

Quickly recovering from the surprise, I turn around, scrambling behind me for something to swing at my assailant. Ooh, a stale loaf of panini bread, I could crack a concrete slab with this. I throw it forward, hitting someone with a thud.

Taylor recoils. The bread bounces off his head and down to the floor, and I worry for a second it would crack one of mum and dad's tiles. He's half laughing at me and half wincing in pain.

"Got ya! Oh my God," Taylor says between giggles, "the sound you made when your head hit the shelf! I should have been filming that! Fuck me, I'm crying."