Chapitre 4: Chapter 4

It was on the tip of his tongue to ask if Ian thought he was real or not when Ian said, “Corey, stop it.”

“Stop what?” Corey asked, confused.

“Stop pouting.” Ian rolled onto his stomach, turning toward Corey. His eyes shone in the darkness, and his arms hugged his pillow. His elbow brushed Corey’s shoulder. “I can hear you thinking. Get to sleep.”

“I can’t,” Corey admitted. “Can I ask you something?”

Ian blinked and stared at Corey’s mouth. Corey tried to resist the urge to lick his lips and couldn’t. When his tongue darted out to wet them, Ian sighed. “What is it, Corey?”

“Why don’t you ever…” Corey shrugged, rustling the sheets. “I don’t know. Why don’t you ever invite any of the girls back here?”

Ian laughed. “You mean why don’t I fuck the fans?”

That’s all it was, wasn’t it? Fucking the fans. Because they were there, and they were willing, and for a short time at least, they made Corey feel important, and special, and maybe one day they’d make him feel real.