Dallon Weekes - Pillow Fort

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You had no idea what was wrong today, but you just felt down. Maybe it was the weather with its dark, grey clouds covering the sky. It was not raining, it was just dark and the colors seemed faded. Maybe it was the math test you had written yesterday and your worries about the result. Maybe it was the obnoxious pink of your English teacher's skirt. Maybe you just had a bad day. When you came home you threw your bag into a corner of the hallway and tiredly sat down on the sofa in the living room. Your parents were both away on a business trip, leaving you and your older brother Dallon alone at home. He was probably upstairs in his room listening to music or writing some himself. You sighed deeply and closed your eyes.

"Just for one moment," you told yourself. You relaxed into the soft cushions and took another deep breath.

A hand on your shoulder tore you out of your peaceful resting.

"Hey there sleepyhead," Dallon smiled down on you.

Confused you looked around. Outside the light had started to fade.

"Urgh," you groaned. "How late is it?"

"Not too late to tell me about your day," Dallon said. "Move."

You sat up and made space for him to sit down next to you.

"So how was school?"

You groaned again quietly, and pulled your knees up to your chest.

"So great, hm?"

You nodded, ignoring his investigative look at you.

"Did anything happen," he asked carefully.

"No, it's just not my day today," you told him.

"I see," he nodded thoughtfully. "How about I make hot chocolate and you go grab the ice cream from the freezer in the basement?"

"What are you up to," you wondered, knowing that Dallon's ice cream and hot chocolate therapy only came to use to special occasions.

"You have a bad day, am I not allowed spoiling my little (y/n)," he asked, sounding almost offended.

"Okay, okay," you held your hands up defensively and got up from the sofa with a wide smile on your face. "I got the ice cream covered."

You made your way down into the basement, hurrying over the cold floor while goosebumps rose along your arms from the chilly air. Quickly you grabbed the container with ice cream from the freezer and headed back upstairs where Dallon had already put the milk into the microwave.

You grabbed two spoons from the dishwasher and headed back to the couch, sitting down and wrapping yourself in one of the blankets lying around so only your arms were free to move around. You had just settled down comfortably when Dallon joined you, setting down two mugs with steaming hot chocolate in front of you. He opened the container with the ice cream and placed it between the two of you on the sofa, handing you a spoon.

"Have you gotten your math test back yet," he wondered, scooping some of the frozen sweet out of the box.

You glared at him for a moment before answering. "No not yet." For a moment you considered your words before speaking again. "And it leaves you hanging with this weird feeling. I think it would be easier to already know how I did," you confessed to him.

"Oh, I know what you mean," he told you, nibbling on the ice cream on his spoon. "It's this... uncertainty. That ruins everything."

"Yeah," you agreed, eating some of the sweet ice cream yourself.

After you had had a few spoons, you reached for the cup with the hot chocolate. It was still fairly warm, but you led the cup to your lips anyway, almost burning your tongue on the hot beverage. You loved it when Dallon made hot chocolate for you. He always used more chocolate powder than you usually would, and added whipped cream on top that he decorated with sprinkles. The whole cup was an artwork. The drink was sweet and hot and the cream made everything feel round and complete. And the sprinkles reminded you to smile.

You looked up to your brother and saw that he was watching you with an amused smile on his face.

"What," you asked confused.

"You just looked like when you were little," he told you, his blue eyes shining, remembering you as a kindergarten kid. "We always told you to be careful with hot milk or hot chocolate or tea and you always told us 'yeah, yeah' and took these tiny sips from the cup, looking crossed-eyed over the bridge of your nose." He giggled before continuing. "And afterwards you always told me how your tongue hurt because you burnt it."

"That sounds like typical me," you sighed, hiding behind your cup. The heat that radiated from the porcelain was comforting as long as you did not press it too close against your skin.

Dallon laughed quietly. "Yeah, it does," he agreed.

You spent the rest of the evening sitting on the sofa, drinking hot chocolate and eating ice cream until the box was empty. Together you remembered family holidays and things you had been doing as kids. Somewhere along the conversation you remembered the many pillow forts you had built together and since no one was home who could have stopped you, you built a small pillow fort between the coffee table and the sofa. You used a blanket so you did not have to sit on the floor, and another one as the ceiling. The cushions of the sofa made the walls, leaving only a little gap so Dallon could lay down and poke his long legs into the 'dangerous, dark night outside the castle walls', as you put it.

"You know, actually a house is just a big, really uncomfortable pillow fort," Dallon realized when you were almost falling asleep.

"When I have a house, I'm gonna have a room filled with pillows and blankets and that's gonna be my pillow fort room and no one can stop me," you decided yawning.

Dallon giggled gleefully at that idea. It did not take you long and you had fallen asleep in the pillow fort on the floor. Dallon let you sleep. He was glad that he had managed to make your day a little better. Quietly he got up, almost tearing down the 'ceiling' in the progress. He tip-toed out of the living room and turned off the lights.

"Sleep well, little (y/n)," he whispered.

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