(DISCLAIMER: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. It’s important to remember this is all totally fabricated, embellished, and exaggerated for entertainment purposes.)
Take away my trouble, take away my grief
Take away my heartache, in the night like a thief
Van Morrison | Crazy Love
Rio de Janeiro
It was night when I awoke, plopping over onto my back and blinking at the ceiling. Beside me the bed was empty—the room unnervingly hushed. I ran a hand over the sheet where he should have been, struggling to stay awake long enough to determine where he’d gone. All the while, the calm grew more disconcerting. When the murmur of the sea filtered into the room, I glanced at the balcony and there he was. My purpose. Heart of my heart. Bathed in the stillness of the moonlight, completely nude.
He was perched on the railing and facing away from the room; legs hanging over the arrant drop below. My panic was delayed. He was frightfully pale. I peered through the shadows to see his spine snake down his back, as though it were a parasite writhing independent of its host. I tried to jump up, but some obscene force weighed me down, locking me into place where I lay. I called to him, but my throat wouldn’t form words. My jaw moved too sluggishly to articulate speech.
Straining and screaming mutedly, I sunk into the mattress; the sheets burying me. That’s when he noticed I was awake and looked back. Eyes as big as saucers. Two whirling black holes plunging away into his skull. A petrifying vision, vomited right out of some cursed, nocturne painting. When our eyes locked, a flicker of anguish surfaced in his. Then he leapt from the building, dropping instantly out of sight.
I choked awake and it was morning. The aircon was off so the room was stifling. Clambering up, I searched the place for any trace of the nightmare, but all was as it should be. And it looked as though a nuke had leveled the room. Glass was strewn everywhere, both from the shattered lamp and the obliterated vase. The telly was done for. The scent of flowers lay heavy on the air, cooked by the humidity.
Haz was sat on the opposite edge of the bed facing away from me, mirroring my dream. Except this time he was still wearing his dingy t-shirt and briefs. That meant he was alright, thank fuck. I crawled to his side of the bed and hugged him from behind. A warm body welcomed me, pulling at my reedy arms to draw me closer. After a few squeezes, during which he lay his cheek against me with a gratifying purr, I slung my legs on either side of his and consumed him.
“Hey…” he uttered, dazed and visibly hung-over.
“Hi sweetheart…” I exhaled.
Unsatisfied with my hold, I pulled his shirt up over his head, then removed mine as well. Now we were skin to skin, sticky and serene. Static cling. My fingers stroked his chest and arms, generating oxytocin-drenched shivers for us both.
“I can feel your heartbeat…” I grinned stupidly against his shoulder blade. “Even from behind. No way…”
“It’s been pounding all night…”
“It’s so early…” was his hoarse groan. “Why are we awake?”
“Youh feel okay?”
“I’m roadkill.” Still, that was far better than I expected. Mostly he was just drunk; not suicidal.
“Oh yeah? Too many caipirinhas?”
“Eh, no such thing as too many caipirinhas, minha amigo.”
“Yeah okay. I bet your stomach says differently.”
“It does…” I could hear his smile.
“Youh wanna take a shower with me?”
I squeezed his belly and he flinched. “Hm, baby? I could really use the company…”
There is comfort in sameness. Nothing felt more familiar than him leading me by the fingers into the bathroom to start our morning. Me watching his feet lift in a measured trek. The slope in his neck as he plowed tiredly into the chill of the unlit room. Light pooling around us like a flashflood, exposing our sins. The cold tiles. Sheepish grins whenever our eyes met in the mirror. Right now his lids were puffy from crying; his voice gruff.
After taking turns brushing our teeth and picking the crust from of our eyes, we ended up in the shower lazing about together. Washing each other with the attentiveness of mother hens. Rinsing in the bracing chill of the water until it grew warm. Still pretty gutted from the emotions and activities that marked the hours before.
He played with my face a bit, pulling at my nose and lips. Ghosting his wet palm down my features like a blind man. I hadn’t noticed before, but his knuckles were swollen from punching the TV, and his shins were scraped from when I pulled him over the balcony. I kissed his hand, pressing it to my cheek with a pang in my chest. That dimply smile was his only response. Now the thought of me provoking him made me sick to my stomach. My rejection had caused this. I’d been purposefully twisting the knife. Why the fuck was I so surprised when he actually went for it? Hadn’t it been my aim to get him to break? To make him squirm? To make him dive? Isn’t that what I wanted?? No! Fuck no!
He took my face between his hands as if he’d been reading my mind. Now he kissed me with a languorous focus; tongue-first. I sucked on his tongue and squeezed his ass so hard my joints ached. Lifting him only fractionally from his feet. He was getting too heavy for me to lift with ease anymore, but I wouldn’t stop trying.
His hips rocked against mine in a rhythmless swing, brushing our cocks together. Mine was springy and unruly. His was getting there. Now he lifted his face and allowed the water to careen against it, splashing wildly around us. Our laughter filled the encasement and I relished the whisper of his breath against my face. Sweet lord, his chest vibrated anytime he made a sound, and I longed to make home in that sensation. Our own secret sonar.
I buried my face between his pecs—gorgeous glistening pecs—meditating on his nearness. He was safe. I was safe. We were together. No one could change that. “Baby…” I muttered to myself, kissing my way along his chest, inhaling his fumes. I let my tongue lazily find his nipple through the steam. Brushing it back and forth as it grew erect beneath my touch. He knew the routine all too well; cradling the back of my head and encouraging more. I bit his pec then; sucking and flicking the hardening flesh until it grew tender.
His exclamations made my belly clench. I lived for this. To tear down his walls which inadvertently tore down mine. His pleasure became mine; even more rattling than my own. My mouth moved to the other nipple as he melted in my arms; my fingertips running back and forth over his clenching hole. The touch so pitiless—so sensual that his knees gave. At that point I pushed him back against the wall with my hips to hold him upright, before reducing him to whimpers with a savage kiss.
Slipping a hand between us, he pulled at my cock, throwing me off my game entirely. Fuck, I was supposed to be in control here. How did this happen? Now he was disarming me? And he knew exactly what I needed. Any touch from him would do. Oh God please, this was too fucking good. Don’t stop. Don’t stop. Don’t stop. It had been too long. I’d been waiting for this moment for six excruciating months. When he started and stopped in Argentina, it felt like my balls had been caught in a vice. Touch me, keep fucking touching me, was all my mind could produce—
I halted all action and concentrated on the glory of him stroking me for the first time in for-fucking-ever. The inquisitive urgency in his fingers. Exploring me. Worshiping me. Letting me know he’d missed this. Palming my balls so gently I nearly yelped; rubbing his hand back and forth between them and my achy length.
With every tug I lost a bit more of myself. Eyes slipping into the back of my skull. There I saw flashes of neon color. Horrifying reds. Then a white so blinding it rocked my senses like a concussion grenade. When my eyes finally rolled back to the front of my head, he was gone. Nothing but the dripping shower wall stood before me, my hands flattened against it. Juddering arms on either side of my face. What the fuck?
He’d sunken to his knees between my legs, burying his face in my dearly neglected sac. Lifting me so much that I slung a leg over his shoulder to brace myself. There, he sucked away, moaning and inhaling me like a maniac. What a bloody fucking an ape. Fear of tipping backwards and cracking my skull made me grab a fistful of his drenched hair. As he withdrew to catch his breath, I lowered onto both feet, resting against the wall for a spell. Then he started in on my flopping cock. Fisting it and stroking it, making my hips buck involuntarily. Wrist turning with a ghastly dexterity. Accelerating the diseased hormones coursing through my body, drawing every one of them to my groin where his hand assaulted them without mercy.
As he swallowed me whole, I experienced a degree of love that rendered words unable. The intimacy of being tucked within his mouth was sensorily staggering. I wanted to rip my hair out one handful at a time, but settled for fucking his face instead. Delving farther into its cushiony confines. Blistering heat thrumming down my length. My wrists became limp, making it impossible for me to reach out. All I wanted was to pet him.
I lay against his tongue, hips bucking feebly. He groaned around me, mumbling about how good it tasted. How big I was. Now he withdrew, nuzzled the head. Letting his tongue taper into a fleshy point that picked at the pee-hole like a lock. I nearly pissed everywhere, slumping as he alternated between slathering my shaft and circling the tip with a torturous rotation. Collecting precum on his lips. Making a show of licking them.
He spat on my cock, then gazed up into my eyes. No, too much. The eye contact crossed a line. I couldn’t control how expressive I was. I moaned like a bitch, unconcerned that he might revel in the power he held over me. The pleasure was infinitely deep, seeping through my groan to my anus. With his free hand he rubbed the back of his knuckles against my taint, igniting my prostate from the outside and setting me the fuck off.
Wanting it to last as long as possible, I tried to think of things to distract me from climaxing. Nothing worked. Not even dead puppies or old naked bodies. I dredged up my nightmares, hoping they’d help me stall, but they were annihilated when he pumped my meat one last time, earning a cumshot to the face. An exorbitant amount of nut left my body, the orgasm washing over me in visceral waves.
“Mmm,” he moaned, massaging me through this convulsing finish. Then he took me back into his mouth and sucked me dry. Greedy fuck. Nursing my cock until it grew soft and shriveled. I didn’t care that I was sore. I didn’t care that I was touched out and freaked out. He could have it all for as long as he wanted, and I wouldn’t lift a finger to stop him. He was an extension of me. Denying him would be to deny myself. And since he wasn’t the least bit interested in letting go, neither was I.
At last I found the opportunity to pet his hair. He gazed up at me and the tsunami of green was like a solar flare. God he was an angel. The only time I didn’t feel gross or worthless after I came was when I was with him, balanced to a tee.
“With youh, with youh…” I whispered to myself. “Youh…youh make me feel…sohhh…” My throat constricted with emotion. Who cares if it made sense? He couldn’t hear me over the spray of the shower anyway, or over his obsessive coddling of my cock. I kept talking. “Please don’t stop touchin’ me. Don’t ever stop. Ever, ever, ever, ever, ever…” I could already feel myself growing hard again. I urged him up and out of the bathroom to dry off. Then we climbed onto the bed and kneeled before one another.
Following a confused silence, I met his eyes—half-lidded and malevolent. “Who even are youh?”
“I said… ‘who even are youh’? Do I know youh?”
“No…I don’t think so.”
I eyed his lips, breath quickening as he played along. “Tell me your name…”
“Harry what?” I let my gaze dip to his heaving chest, then to his belly and beyond.
He responded huskily: “Styles…”
Our lips met tentatively, as if for the first time. Faintly exploring one another—
“Wait…” he muttered against my mouth. “What’s your name?”
“Javadd,” I exhaled without thought, in search of his tongue.
After I blew him, we lay for a while and caught our breath, trying to regain even a modicum of energy. It felt good to be nude, laying uncovered in the balmy air. We left the aircon off and opted for opening the balcony instead. I sang Bill Withers’ “Ain’t No Sunshine” beneath my breath, playing with his fingers which had fallen onto my chest. He lay facing me, studying me in an unblinking stupor while I watched the ceiling.
I could tell it was going to be a long day. We had our big gig in Rio tonight, and then it was on to São Paulo without pause. Meaning I had to be separated from him for at least a few hours, which I was not looking froward to—
“I’m sorry for scaring you last night.” There it was. I’d wondered when he would feel lucid enough to bring it up. “Do you think I’m a crazy person?”
“Of course not.”
“Will you look at me?” I did so, shifting to face him as well. I refused to let go of his fingers. “I’m really sorry, Z. I’m not a crazy person, ok? I swear. D’you believe me?”
“Don’t apologize. I know youh aren’t. Alcohol can, like, make us all do reckless tings. Forget about it, maan. Youh don’t wanna know some of the shit I’ve done when I was alone.” The was a prolonged silence before he piped up again.
“Y’know…just before you grabbed me…” he paused, clearing his throat. I squeezed his hand, urging him to continue. “I just felt like I was losing control. That’s all. And I almost called out your name. Mate, I got so scared…I didn’t know what I was doing. But then you grabbed me before I even had to say a word. And I, uh…don’t really know what would’ve happened if you didn’t…”
“Don’t think about it, baby.” I blew a raspberry on his forehead, then kissed each of his eyes. “I’m sorry too. For provokin’ youh…”
“You were upset. It’s ok. I get it. But I don’t wanna fight anymore, though. I’m so tired.”
“And I don’t want to be apart anymore. I don’t wanna see other people…”
“I love you, ok?”
“Okay,” I smiled over at him reassuringly.
A while later he asked, “Will you tell her it’s over?”
“My grandmum. God, Z, who the fuck do you think?”
“Babe, c’mon…youh know that’s impossible. At least for now.”
He started to respond, but caught himself, clearly not wanting to bicker. Instead, he leaned over and kissed me, swirling his tongue around my mouth and leaving me giddy. He asked gruffly for lube. I told him it was in the nightstand. He retrieved it, then told me to shut my eyes. I did so without thought.
I lay over on my back at his urging, concentrating on his wandering hand which stroked my chest and belly, driving me insane with anticipation. It cut sharply between my ribs and I gasped, back arching. I didn’t care about orgasming anymore. All I wanted was to share this space with him. Absorb him while he absorbed me. We were at last on the same page, and it was far too sweet to cheapen with self-serving motives.
Before I knew it, he took both my hands and pinned them above my head, asking me to spread my legs. Murmuring directly into my ear, which ripped shockwaves through my core.
“Are you comfortable?” he asked.
“Don’t speak. Only nod.”
Right away I nodded to let him know I understood.
“You wanna get under the covers?”
I considered the notion, then shook my head, eyes still shut.
“Yeah…I think it’s better this way—”
“What did I tell you about speaking?”
He let go of my hands, but I obediently kept them in place, as though they were tied above my head. His lips ghosted over my protruding ribs as he kissed his way down my torso to my abdomen. There, he traced my heart tattoo, pressing his lips to it again and again. What a fiend. Greedy and obsessive. When the brush of his lips vanished, I peaked open one eye to find that he had risen up on his knees, kissing the large anatomical heart on his left arm.
He looked so pained that I sat up as well. He couldn’t explain it. To tell the truth, I had noticed the compulsion myself a while back, but didn’t have the balls to broach the subject to his face. It was something I curiously observed from afar, noticing it bore some sort of tie to whatever he was going through with me; whether good or bad. Half the time he looked tortured when he did it, so I didn’t know what to take from any of it, except that he was a marvelous and imaginative creature I would gladly spend the rest of my life decoding.
I climbed up onto my knees as well, brushing long damp strands from his forehead to meet his eyes. When I felt it was ok, I lifted his arm and kissed his inner wrist. He bit his lip, smiling at me with his eyes. I kissed my way up to his inner elbow, then halted, peeking at him out of the corner of my eyes. His thrill only deepened, and now his dimples were visible. I took my time, brushing my swollen lips slowly up the remainder of his arm until I reached the large heart. At that, his breath quickened. I paused just short of touching it, not wanting to violate this space by making the gesture erotic. His smile had long since vanished and been replaced with a faint look of distress.
“What does it mean?” was my candid question. He only shook his head. I watched him, telepathing that I already understood what this ink signified, and that I would never harm or violate that sacred space. That it was sacred to me too. After a shaky breath, he allowed me to stroke it, making feathery soft circles around the dark details. Now I bent my head and kissed it. The moment my lips connected, the silence was broken by his agitated breathing. Neither of us understood what was happening. After I kissed it, he compulsively kissed it a few times himself, and it was the most vulnerable thing I’d ever seen from him. Almost like a security blanket. Worryingly strange; but fine in my book. Our weirdness ours. No one else’s to pry on or judge. In that moment, I understood and respected him far more profoundly than before. This simple drawing had bound us more deeply than a blood pact.
We resumed what we started earlier, and I lay with my eyes closed, prohibited from speaking. Waiting for him to make a move. Lube dripped down my cock and balls and the sensation was a vicious tease. C’mon, c’mon, c’mon, I cried internally, waiting for his hand to massage it into my quivering flesh. When at last it did, I grunted, toes curling at the merest inkling of his touch. Before I knew it, he was spreading my thighs and shoving a pillow beneath my hips. I fought to keep my eyes shut as he drizzled more lube down my taint and finally into my ass. My hole puckered in expectation of his entry. That’s when his fingers landed, fondling everything between my legs with a mind-numbing agility. I writhed down the mattress, stealing feverish glimpses of him between my lids as they slipped open on occasion.
“Relax, baby…relax…” he uttered. I tugged at my own hardening cock, but he flung my hand away. Having no choice but to conform, I popped my thumb into my mouth to mitigate the nervous energy overtaking me; biting down to the bone whenever he drove me over the edge. The pads of his four fingers gently massaged my taint to no end, making me exhale his name. Now the tip of his middle finger edged my hole, playfully dipping inside to startle me. With my free hand, I lifted my leg behind the knee to expose my hole even more. He scratched at my inner thighs, tickling me into submission. I bubbled into an fit laugh of laughter, fighting to keep my eyes shut.
Fucking finally, he slipped his longest finger inside and I clenched around it, relishing its inquisitive probing. He withdrew to lay down beside me, and something about him reaching between my legs and slipping back inside of me made me feel awkward and feminine. I grappled with the notion awhile before his voice startled me.
“Y’know, I was actually flattered when you stalked me. Is that weird?” I had no answer for that. Not right now. He bit at my lobe. “I can’t stop punishing you, Zayn.”
“Stop speaking…” He yanked my thumb out of my mouth and kissed me. Another finger slipped inside without warning, stretching me abruptly. I gasped, letting go of my upraised leg.
“It’s the only way I can win. The only way I can make myself matter to you.” He was talking out of his head, and his strokes were driving me insane. When he hit my prostate, I gurgled defeatedly.
“I feel important in your life whenever I cut you off or withhold myself. Because otherwise…you’ll take me for granted…and I become your cheap amusement.” I had so much trouble keeping track of what he was saying. The act he was committing felt too fucking euphoric, releasing a fusion of otherworldly colors and tremors. Unlikely hues and hormones and impulses I was powerless to put a name to.
“Sometimes I need the power. You always have all the power over me…and that’s my fault because I gave it to you. But I love making you crazy for me…” He jabbed his fingers deeper without warning. I cried out and panted, flabbergasted as to whether I was experiencing pain or pleasure. It didn’t matter. Whatever it was, I didn’t want it to stop.
“When you lose your mind over me, it reminds me how much you love me…no matter how many times you go home to her…”
That hit deep. I perfectly understood where he was coming from, and although it was dangerous, I welcomed his unpredictable torments. Anything to please him; especially now that I knew his six-month denial of me had been premeditated. To be fair, the protracted wait had made the sex immeasurably more intense. We ought to abstain more often.
“I don’t mind it babe,” I whispered at last. “Youh know I got youh, no matter what. Punish me as much as youh want. I like bein’ punished…”
After I unloaded a second time, he said he still wasn’t done with me. Trembling and achy, I kneeled in the center of the bed at his instruction. He kneeled behind me, kissing and worshiping my back, stroking his fingertips over my sinews and jutting bones. Playing my spine like a lyre as I leaned forward, hugging myself. And in this deeply intimate position, he slid inside of me, fucking me so slowly and deliberately I didn’t know how to handle myself.
By noon, Jhene Aiko’s “Bed Peace” played softly across the room, and I slid from under him to climb out of bed. He lay on his belly, limbs spread wide, turning his head to face away from me. I pulled the covers up over his bare ass, but he kicked them back off. On the way to the bathroom, I stretched and took note of how sore I was following our exploits, side-stepping the glass that glinted throughout the carpet.
I washed my face and brushed my teeth before taking another quick shower. Afterwards I tied a towel around my waist and spruced my beard up a bit. Lining up the edges. Blow drying and styling my hair for the day. Before long it’d be time for us to meet the other boys at the stadium for rehearsals, so I needed to coax Haz out of bed and send him off to his own room to get ready.
Just as I finished cleaning up the hair in the sink, he burst into the bathroom wide-eyed and flustered, slamming the door like he’d seen a ghost.
“All gud, babe? Youh have a nightmare or sumthin’?”
“Z…” he marveled quietly. “There’s someone knocking at your door—”
“Really?? Aw fuck… let me goh see who—”
“Wait, wait, wait…I think it’s Perrie…”
“Yeah, I think…I know I heard her voice. Fuck’s sake, I’m going crazy…” He was absolutely cracked. How could he possibly still be drunk?
“Babe, you’re trippin’! There’s noh way in hell—”
He cracked the door and peered out. When the coast was clear, he guided me quietly by the wrist to the middle of the sitting room, and we listened for any sign of life outside the door. Soon there was another questioning knock, and the distinct mutterings of a Geordie accent. My balls shot up into my throat.
“No, no, no, no, no, no, no!” I whimpered. Haz and I gaped at each other, his eyes bulging out of his skull when he realized his worst fears were indeed true. Flinging my hand aside, he rushed to his side of the bed and slid his briefs on. When her knock landed again, accompanied by her calling out my name, he stumbled around until he gathered his t-shirt and phone. I helped him find his shorts.
“Oh yeah, there’s music playing just inside. He must be here!” she insisted, likely speaking with Preston. “C’mon bubzzz! Pick up! Pick up! Where are ya?!“
My legs turned to goo as I wobbled about the mascaraed room. How I could possibly explain why the telly was destroyed? Why there was glass shattered everywhere? Why the sheets were soiled? Why there was a half-naked dude running around?? Good God, we were fucked!
After gathering all his shit, Haz ran by me in nothing but tennis shoes and briefs, barricading himself in the bathroom. I started to tell him to get into the closet, but knew she’d likely want to unpack her things in there. I gave the room another once over, positive Preston would be letting her in anytime now, before stopping myself from grabbing my phone. If I took it with me into the bathroom, she would wonder why I’d been ignoring her calls. It was best to leave it on the nightstand and pretend I’d been in the shower the whole time. Thankfully I’d just left it.
Joining Haz in the bathroom, I found him hunkering in the corner, fully dressed and hugging his legs. He was freaked the fuck out. There was simply no way out. She was blocking the only door, crushing every possibility of him slipping past unseen. The bed was too low for him to squeeze beneath. The closet was way too exposed and far too shallow for him to hide effectively. And there was simply no explanation for why he was in my room and not answering the door after all this time; not without making ourselves look hella suspicious. His best bet was to stay in the toilet and wait until I got her out of the room.
“Baby? Youh okay?” I squatted before him, rubbing his knee.
“Z…what the fuck? What’re we gonna—” I slapped a hand over his mouth when I heard her enter, cheerily calling my name.
“Oh Zennnnnn! Where are ya, bubs?!”
I hurried to turn the shower on before she got close. To sell the narrative further, I flung the towel aside and wet my entire body, rinsing the product out of my hair. When her fist landed on the bathroom door, I knew I couldn’t put it off any longer. It was time to face her.
I killed the water and toweled off before wrapping it around my waist. I gave Haz one final look of remorse, saddened that our incredible morning had been reduced so humiliatingly, before stepping out to feign surprise.
“Bubsss!” she squealed, dressed in a pale blue, sleeveless romper. Two long pigtails flying with her every move.
“Pez?! Oh fuck, babe! What’re youh doin’ here?!”
“I missed you, silly!” She ran forward and crushed the living shit out of me.
“Woahhh!” I cried, stumbling backwards beneath her dead weight. She took my face between her hands and kissed me madly, leaving lipstick all over my cheeks and chin.
“Shit, babe, this is wild! I can’t believe you’re actually here!”
“I just couldn’t go another day without seeing mah babes! Mah mannnz! We only have a short while when you come home before I’m off on tour. No good, sir! You’re happy I’m here, right Z?” I gazed into her icy blue eyes and felt nothing but a penetrating regret. I saw Haz reflected in the deep dark of her irises. Curled up in the corner of the bathroom, cheapened and reduced to a scurvy side-piece.
“Of course I am, babe,” I breathed, taking her hand. “You’ve been on my mind since I left London. I’m soh fuckin’ glad you’re here, Pez. C’mere.” I kissed her. She broke away with a squeal, doing a ridiculous happy dance. I eyed Preston in the doorway; his expression a mixture of apologetic and puzzled. There was also a bit of ‘hey, I kept her out as long as I could’. I understood that she had put him in a fucked up position too, so I just waved him away.
When he left, she groaned, “Ughhhh, I’ve gotta piss like a bloody racehorse!” She started towards the toilet and I leapt after her, but then she halted and pointed at the TV.
“I’ve been meaning to ask: what the bloody hell happened here?! Don’t tell me the room came this way?! What sort of a bloody establishment is this?!” she giggled.
“Noh, actually, funny story…” I laughed, scratching my head. “I, uh…I kind of got into a bad bet with a few blokes online. It got a bit heated forh a minute there, and I took it out on the poor room. I lost miserably. I’m out about 30K now, plus these damages—.”
“Ughhh, bubs! What did I tell you about this?! We promised you were gonna stop gambling! You’re gonna blow all your money and end up playing cruise ships until you’re sixty at the rate you’re going! Wait till I tell mum! She’ll read you right down the country, she will.” She went on and on about how she’d be signing me up for anger management courses and Gambler’s Anonymous as I got dressed. When she headed for the bathroom again, I stopped her with a faux-passionate kiss. Internally, I was freaking the fuck out, hoping she wouldn’t look too long at the sheets, or smell certain things on the air, or notice some miniscule trace of Haz that we’d forgotten to get rid of.
She smiled dizzily up at me when the kiss broke, and it was then that I caught a movement over her head. Haz was somehow outside the fucking building, having edged his way along the extremely narrow ledge, and was now making sure the coast was clear before he plopped over onto the balcony. He must’ve heard her say she needed to piss and flung himself out of the bathroom window without thinking. Holy shit, if I had to panic about him being on that goddamn balcony one more time I was going to have a fucking aneurysm.
When he got safely onto solid ground, I abruptly shoved her on towards the bathroom without explanation, ignoring her little “Heyyyyyy!” in the process. As the door shut behind her, I ran over to the balcony to let him in. He was heated. He brushed passed me without a word, headed for the front door. I grabbed ahold of his wrist, then his shirt tail, trying to stop him, but he forged ahead and paid me no mind.
“Babe, babe, babe—wait, babe! I’m soh sorry!” With that, he was out the door, slamming it in my face.
(Thanks for reading!❤️)