The first thing Xavier felt as he blinked awake was not the sunlight spilling into the bedroom, nor the faint sound of rain dripping from the gutters outside, and definitely not the zombie style alarm.
No.
It was the solid thwack of a pillow landing across his face.
Xavier froze, still half-asleep, before the pillow smacked him again—harder this time.
His eyes cracked open, hazy but amused, and the first thing he saw was Alvin looming over him, his expression colder than the frost on a winter's morning.
"…Good morning?" Xavier said cautiously, his voice still husky from sleep.
"Good morning?" Alvin's tone could have frozen the sun. His blue eyes narrowed dangerously. "You've got some nerve."
Another smack.
This time Xavier caught the pillow just in time, chuckling as he rolled onto his side. "Hey, hey, what's with the violence first thing in the morning? Did I talk in my sleep again? Did I steal the blanket? Did I—"
