Chapter 1: Wake me up if I'm dreaming

The thought of last night swept away from Damien's memory and the only thing he was thinking right now, was to sleep through the whole day and not give a fuck about the outside world and it's harsh reality. His bed looked like it was bombed and all of the covers and sheets were dancing to its victory, in making Damien stay his whole heavy body down on its duvet. It was wether has the news has decided to show reports of an another missing 19 year-old college male student, that works part-time in a small café, (Oddly specific) or another political statement being thrashed upon by the public, on how stupid it is while stating their more idiotic opinion about it. He didn't have that kind of time to waste himself to those matters, nor gave a shit about it either. Damien, having ash brown coloured-hair, with his curly bangs laying low until it met with his finely shaved eyebrows; had an agreement with the heavenly sunlight being thrown out of his window, nudged unto his bedroom side. He only lived in those lousy but average flats that had to make up for his medium salary. The flat extended to a size of two rooms together and had sickly-pale peach colour splashed into every wall. His living room with a short coffee table and a maroon coloured couch, had a short connection with the dining area, it was also small with two-chair table (Take in the fact that he was all alone) and countertops connected to the sink and was neighbouring with his refrigator that was shorter than him (He was atleast 5'7") But it was fine, as long as he's far away from the danger in his distant memories created back then by his old hometown he grew up in, then he was safe. It was a sleepy Saturday that morning (Well, for Damien that was) and he was going into a deep slumber and never wake up until a century passes or so. That is, when he felt somebody move the sheets in the pearl-white bed. Damien thought it was his mind playing tricks on him, playing him back because of what happened last night. He layed down, front-faced to his beaten up pillow being pushed by his head and turned his head to the left. 'Shhh-shhhhoo' his bed flapped as the covers moved alot more than his movements matched to. He was getting annoyed more than ever, his brows even connected with each other's end; he now then turned his whole body, facing the right side of the bed. As the covers grunted more with covers moving, then out of nowhere, a fruity (Most likely to be a male) voice asked to him; "Um, I know this is weird- But did we have sex?" Damien flew his eyes to an open to see who asked that odd question and why that person was in his bed, beside him. This made him jump out of the duvet, or fall out of the bed rather, as if he just saw his nightmare come back to life to haunt him again with more torture and pain to his emotional well-being. Damien fell on his ass, meeting with the cold-hard floor, and yelped with surprise and fear in his voice. He moved backwards trying to get away from the anonymous voice he slept beside with for god how many hours ago. Damien stood up but still trying to maintain his guard to an extreme alert with who was left sitting on top of his comfy duvet. Damien looked up and saw what he thought it was magic (He didn't believe in them either) It was the same cloudy-grey dyed hair, 19 year old college student that works part time in a not much well known café, that he was assigned to assassinate last night. Damien's jaw was somehow magnetic to the floor. 'It couldn't be- This is all just a dream-' his jumbled-up mind somehow created to say to himself.