Stray

Oliver washed quickly. He didn’t seem to have any desire to chat as he climbed straight into bed and wrapped himself into a cocoon with the blanket and turned his back to Nemo.

Nemo had lost his only nightgown, so he had to wear his daytime clothes. He moved back to the bed, drenched. There was still a hole left by Witherspoon’s giant sword on his bed. As soon as he tried to lay down, it made a sharp unpleasant creak.

The sharp noise echoed in the quiet room, with an inexplicable sense of embarrassment. Nemo crossed his fingers, lying on his back like a corpse, not daring to move again. However, his endurance was limited. It didn’t feel good lying on broken wood, so when he tried to turn over, the noise cut through the silence again.

“…Come here. We can squeeze in together.” Oliver said with his back to him.

Nemo grabbed his pillow and turned over and sat up. He hesitantly said: “But you know, I…”

“We can’t sleep like this, or do you think honestly that I’m too scared to sleep?”

After that, he moved to the side of the bed, leaving a space barely enough for one person. Nemo laid his pillow down and laid down carefully. He turned to the edge of the bed, and the too soft mattress quickly occupied his mind.

“Are you really not afraid?” he turned his back to Oliver and muttered vaguely.

“Afraid.” Oliver replied simply. “I’m afraid you’ll keep thinking about it. Do you remember ‘Dirty Jack’?”