Chapter 4 – Book Out, Black Out
He booked out on Friday night.
I met him at the void deck, still in his No. 4 uniform, duffel slung low over his shoulder. His hair was shorter. Face tanner. Shoulders looked slightly broader—but his eyes? Tired.
He smiled when he saw me and pulled me into a hug that lasted barely five seconds before his mum called from behind.
“Come, come—go upstairs first. Got your favourite.”
So we had dinner with his family.
Fish soup. Stir-fried kai lan. Warm rice in slightly cracked bowls. His younger brother was glued to his phone. His dad asked about his field camp. His mum kept piling more meat onto his plate.
We finally got some time alone after 10PM.
His room smelled the same.
Still had that half-used AXE body spray on the shelf. Fan humming on oscillate. Bedsheet half-wrinkled.
He shut the door, dropped his bag, turned around—and kissed me. Fast. Needy. Like he’d been starving. His hands gripped my waist, his lips everywhere at once.
No teasing. No foreplay. Just pulling off clothes like he was racing something.
“Can?” he whispered, already pushing me onto the bed.
I nodded.
He pulled his shorts down, already hard. His hand trembled a little as he positioned himself between my legs. He didn’t even undress me fully—just yanked my panties down, shoved my top up.
Then he was inside me.
It lasted maybe five minutes.
He groaned, voice muffled into my shoulder, hips jerking erratically.
Then he pulled out suddenly and gasped, “Wait—wait—shit—”
Thick spurts hit my stomach. My chest. A little on my chin.
“Fuck,” he breathed, panting. “Sorry, I couldn’t... I didn’t last.”
He looked apologetic for half a second. Then rolled off and lay flat on the bed, hand over his eyes.
I lay there sticky. Unfinished. Silent.
He didn’t even pass me a tissue.
Within two minutes, he was out cold. Snoring.
The next morning, I woke up early.
I showered, did my hair, even put on that blue top he once said he liked. Light makeup. Casual, but cute.
He was still sleeping.
I let him rest. At first.
11AM.
1PM.
3PM.
I shook him gently. “Eh, wanna go out? Maybe lunch? Catch a movie?”
He mumbled something, turned to the wall, and knocked back out.
I sat on the edge of his bed, watching the back of his head.
This was supposed to be our weekend.
Sunday morning came fast.
He finally got up. Showered. Changed.
We walked to the bus stop together. He held my hand, fingers warm but loose.
“Thanks for being so understanding,” he said before boarding. “I’m really lucky.”
I smiled.
To be continued.