Winter (Not Edited)

Chapter 7

Winter stirred in her sleep, fluttering her eyes open. Sitting up, she gripped her head as her eyes almost fell out of her head as she saw the time.

It was a little past midnight.

After Emerson had left her sleeping on the couch he drowned himself in whiskey and guilt.

Winter shook slightly, she felt terrible that she didn't make him dinner. She would surely make a feast tomorrow. Winter only hoped he wasn't too hungry.

She climbed the stairs to her room, entering she shut the door, silently. Winter stood confused, bags from expensive stores filled her room. Did he buy me clothes? She thought.

Her fingers grazed the bag, opening it. She was in awe. Pants, shirts, even dresses. Her heart felt like it was going to explode, it was true, she blossomed under kindness.

She smiled as she went through the clothes, a pajama set caught her eyes. They were a sweet pink color with microscopic polka dots. Winter set them out and undressed for a shower.

Water traced her milky skin. As the water continued, a crash from inside the estate sounded. She jumped at the sudden sound, instantly cutting the streaming water off. She shivered at the loss contact of the boiling water.

Quickly, she wrapped a towel around her and dried her hair a bit. She put on the pajama set and quickly walked to where she thought the sound came from.

She stumbled towards Emerson's room. Her bare feet hit the cold floor in front of Emerson's door. Her hand raised to knock on the door, no response came from within.

She began to worry.

Winter pushed the door opened and walked through the little corridor towards the beginning of his room. She heard a grumbled voice and looked around.

"Don't move!" She squealed as her eyes fell on the glass that had broken. Emerson moved anyway. His shoes crunching the broken glass.

She glanced at her bare feet wondering if she should move or not. She decided against moving.

Emerson was beyond drunken and grunted out another strange noise. His goal of numbing his pain worked, but also numbed his body and brain.

He stumbled through the glass shards and towards a bed. Winter wondered if he was drunk, he was not acting normal. She carefully backed away from the glass and began to walk towards Emerson.

Emerson was almost to his bed, the floor was spinning and the pressure in his head made it feel as if it was going to explode at any second.

He stumbled again this time nearly landing on the floor. Small hands gripped his arms steadily. Winter was pulling him up straight, Emerson's eyes watched as she struggled to hold his big frame.

This was humorous for Emerson, he began to laugh hysterically. Winter smiled at how silly he was acting.

Winter made him sit on the bed. Her eyes followed the room. The bed was huge, and had dark, silk sheets. Emerson pulled his shirt off and threw it across the room. He began to untie his dress shoes, but failed, struggling, greatly.

Winter bent down and began to take his shoes off. She wiggled them off his huge feet and sat them neatly beside his bed. As she went to stand he leaned downwards, bumping both their heads together harshly.

She stumbled a bit backwards, falling. She instantly leaned forward stopping herself from falling. Though when she leaned too far and her hands shot out to grip the closet surface.

Hot skin made its way under her freezing hands. She didn't moved an inch, her breathing becoming heavier. Emerson felt relaxed, and completely sober as her hands gripped his bare shoulders. Her hands were that of ice and he didn't want to move.

Against what Emerson wanted Winter backed away slowly. She began to panic about the dinner situation. "I am sorry, I didn't make you dinner." Winter spoke quietly and quickly.

Emerson had forgotten he didn't have dinner, she was asleep how would she have known. He didn't mind. His eyes traced over the pajama set he had picked out for her. He had picked one that would be warm.

Emerson did not reply he only reached to take his pants off, Winter instantly turned around facing the wall.

"You don't have to turn around." He said gruffly.

Winter slowly turned back around, a slight blush tinted her soft cheeks.

"I wasn't hungry." He lied, protecting her feelings. She nodded slowly.

Her eyes widen as she forgot to thank him for the clothes. "Emerson?" She said, slowly. He moved to lay down, the silky sheets puddling around his tone body.

"Hmmm," he hummed, waiting for a response. Winter gulped as she began to thank him. "Thank you for the clothes, I know you didn't have to, but you did. I appreciate you for thinking of me." She said, she instantly regretted opening her month. She sounded so weird, even though she was truly thankful.

He didn't respond he only nodded and groaned as he reached for her hand. She jumped in surprise, but willingly gave him her hand. Emerson pressed the cold flesh to his burning forehead. His lips parted as he let out a sigh.

Winter felt his hot forehead, was he sick? His fingers that were wrapped around her wrist were slowly losing grip. She raised her other hand to his face, he was really burning up.

After another minute, he was dead asleep. Winter went to find a rag for his forehead. Firstly, she carefully cleaned up the broken glass. After she brought a glass of water beside him, also a pain killer, he would probably be hungover in the morning. She pressed the cold rag to his burning skin.

After another glance she turned and walked back to her bedroom. She wondered why Emerson had drowned himself in alcohol like that. There had to be a reason for him acting out in such a way. She wouldn't ask, but Winter wondered.