He awoke many hours later, chilly and slightly damp - and realized with a start that he'd not only never dried off after the seventh cold shower, but that he'd also taken it with his underwear still on. In fact, there was an imperfect imprint on the bed where the color had bled onto the sheet that read, "ℲℲ∩┴S ┴OH".
With a grunt, he ripped off the sheet. He couldn't remember much of what had happened the previous evening - he'd arrived back at his dorm, drank some pumpkin juice and ate a bunch of questionable substances and then kissed Herryk on the lips-
What the ******** peeked out into the living room of his domicile - but the large dark-skinned boil was nowhere to be seen. Well, that was a relief. Maybe he'd dreamt it. But still, that meant he had been having drug induced fantasies about his dude bro. It didn't bode well for his security, manliness, or sanity.
He sat down on the floor for a minute. Then he lay down, to further contemplate. Well. He had to like, like analyze this. From an object standpoint.
Point A. Herryk had long flowing hair.
Point B. Herryk had the most magnificent set of man tits - pecs, which were totally okay man, he mentally corrected himself - of any of the boils at the school.
And 3 - he had been out of his mind whacked out on s**t. Yes. When put that way, it all suddenly lined up so nicely. No big deal. High school experimenting. He was just having his, like, high school lesbian experience. Er. Guysbiean. Dudebian. Yeah.
Plus, Herryk's hair smelled of vanilla and sweat, and that was pretty NOPE NOPE NOPE. He turned his head, counting the ceiling tiles for a few minutes while he let the fervent blushing die down. There was obviously still some troll dirt in his system. Yep, that was it. JD moved to sit up, and ended up accidentally trapping his hair under his elbow, pulling it.
He remembered a large, warm fist closing in and scraping his scalp as it pulled-
He got up very quickly and spent the next ten minutes vigorously brushing his teeth. After a while, he just studied himself in the mirror.
Yeah, he still got it.
It was okay. Everything was okay. Maybe even better than okay - after all, ghouls seemed to really dig that guy on guy s**t, right? Maybe it was a phase. He was - what was that guy's name? Oh, yeah. Like David Brony, alias Higgy Fardust, the famous musician. He stared into the mirror and asked himself, What would Higgy Fardust, Spaced Oddity, do? The answer, he was pretty sure, was whatever the ******** he wanted. Including kissing dudes. Especially dudes with like, perfectly flowing hair and chiseled abs and nothing but a tiny loincloth.
But he also had that whole androgynous thing, which he'd rocked. This was a point JD was not willing to concede, as was definitely still a dude, okay? And a bro.
A dude bro.
A dude bro who's bro had some seriously pillowy lips, I mean geez man he just melted into them like butter. He sighed, breath fogging the mirror for a second. Man, that s**t really stayed in your system. He needed to distract himself. He glanced around desperately - okay, a bath might work, but that wasn't completely sufficient. Homework? No, he wasn't in the right mindset. He needed structure. Routine. To not think about how Herryk's skin tasted.
He dug through his cabinets, shoving aside beauty creams and night masks looking for something....oily.
After a few minutes of frantic searching, he came up triumphantly, holding an old rag in one hand and a bottle of Betty Beetlejuice's Protrusion Polisher. He sat down on the edge of his tub, eyeing the container reverently. He'd turned to the tiny, well worn bottle so often in times of strife - when he was stressed, upset, or just needed to take his mind off things a bit. Yes, that was just what a situation like this called for. JD would not spend the next several hours thinking about how kissably soft his bro's lips had been. Instead, he'd take a nice, long bath and then... Polish his horns. 'Till they shined.
Like butter.
