jerseywrite
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Wilhelm was asleep, his nose comfortably nestled in the cocoa-brown curls of the mostly naked boy beside him, when he was startled by an insistent buzz from the direction of the fish tank. It took him a moment to realize it was his phone, and it would not stop vibrating.
He flipped it open. “Wilhelm? It’s Walter,” the caller said. “I thought you should know. The police are here. They broke into August’s room about 10 minutes ago.”
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One writer’s vision of possible conflict ahead, arriving late to the pre-S2 party (thanks, COVID, you're such a pal).