Doren
Doren’s eyes fly open. His dreams, more fluff than s*x which was surprising to him but at same time oddly nice, had been interrupted by a sound so hard, so frightening, it had ripped him right out of sleep. Not a full minute later, a light knock landed on the door to his hotel room.
Hey, Aug?” He nudged August’s ribcage harder than he needed to. “Are you awake?”
August groaned and stretched, arching his back off the mattress. “Do I look awake to you?” he asked sleepily, digging at his eyes with both fists.
Again the knock came, and this time it was more persistent. “Aug, there’s someone at the door,” Doren whispered, pushing August to respond. He remembered a scene from a movie he’d seen as a child, “at this time of the morning he’s your son,” and thought, at this time of the mor
