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Warning: This contains a bit of smut. Nothing graphic, but I'd just like to try my hand at it.
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He knew that he loved her. He loved the most beautiful, unattainable girl in the whole entire world, and goddamn him if he ever got the guts to tell her that he loved her so much, so much that words couldn't even describe the utter strength of his emotions.
He loved the fact that she was as fiery and beautiful as her red hair. He loved the fact that she was so open and honest, and that there was not one thing that she thought and wouldn't voice. He loved her brown eyes that seemed to him like molten chocolate, so rich and luscious that he couldn't rip himself out of the trance they put him.
He loved her, the entirety of her. He could write so many verbose novels about her and not run out of things to say.
The fact that his drunken mind was sober enough to make a list of all the things he liked about her should have bothered him, but the fact that he was completely and utterly drunk prevented that from happening.
He was hyper-aware of the fact that he had his hands on her hips, and oh, those hips! They swayed along with the music in perfect rhythm, brushing against his thighs as she did so.
The sober him would have realized the fact that he should probably move away from her if he didn't want her to get thoroughly freaked out by him, but the drunk him couldn't think of anything but the fact that the most beautiful girl in the world was dancing with him.
He daringly moved his hands a bit lower, noticing that she was still steadfastly staring at her feet. The shimmery sequin dress that she was wearing barely covered her thighs, and he found himself reacting more to that fact.
He leaned down and whispered in her ear, "Hey, love, look at me."
He didn't know why his voice came out husky and deep, but she whipped her head up to look at him and reprimand, "Don't call me that."
"And what will you do if I do call you this?", he asked and cocked an eyebrow.
She sighed. "You're drunk. The sober you would never do this."
The sober me wouldn't do a lot of things that I want to do.
"I'm not that drunk," he said, knowing full well that he was pretty drunk.
She rolled her eyes affectionately, "Of course, you're not drunk, honey."
"Why don't you ever drink?" he asked her.
She smiled slightly, "I do drink, I just have a high alcohol tolerance."
"Well, what do you say we test how high that tolerance is?" he asked her.
She sighed, "I don't know why, but right now this feels like such a great idea."
He smiled at her, "That's because it is."
He grabbed her hand and pulled her to the bar, placing an order to the bartender.
He leaned against the counter, and smiled at her, the special smile he had reserved for her. The slightly crooked one, the one that showed her just how much he cared for her and loved her. The smile that he knew would make her heart melt.
She smiled back and picked up her drink as it arrived.
She tipped it down her throat in one go and then shuddered at the bitterness of it.
"There you go!" he exclaimed and smiled at her again.
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Ten shots later, they had found their way to his apartment and his bedroom.
Their lips were locked together, and they clung to each other like the other was their lifeline. The only reason they existed.
That was somewhat true. Both of them loved each other, loved them in a way that no one else could love. A fiery love that burned under the surface of their heart, pulling them closer and then pushing them apart because they were scared.
But now, as they were drunk, they were both filled with a kind of fearlessness that their sober selves would never have.
They would think and then overthink about each decision and shy away from telling the other their real feelings even when they were a hairsbreadth away from doing it.
Their hands flew across each other's skin, in a frenzy of desire that had been suppressed for so much time. Pleasure flew through their veins, and hands gripped the soft sheets under them as they reached a high that not even the drugs they were on couldn't give them.
And then came the aftershock of pleasure, and it felt even greater than the pleasure itself. It felt like heaven and hell together.
They fell asleep in each other's arms, their bodies molded together perfectly.
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He woke up with the body of a human next to him. One of his hands was on the hips, and the other was holding the body close to his.
That was when he realized that both the bodies were naked.
And the body next to him was none other than the one belonging to her.
He'd spent the night with the love of his life and had been drunk enough not to remember it.
He didn't know exactly how much he'd drunk, but the pounding in his head had given him a hunch that he had drunk far more than what was healthy for him.
He felt her stir next to him, and he panicked as she opened her eyes to look at him.
She smiled up at him, and he felt his panic melt away.
"So," he began.
"Listen, you don't have to say anything.", she said.
"I know, but I want to." he took a deep breath. "We shouldn't have done this. You see, I didn't want this," he gestured his hand toward them, "to be our relationship. Fuck and go. I didn't want this."
He took another deep breath. "I love you, and I've been shying away from saying it. I love you more than I love anyone and anything else, and I figured that it was time to woman up and tell you. I know that you probably don't reciprocate my feelings, scratch that, you definitely don't reciprocate my feelings and I get that-,"
"Hush." she placed her fingers on his lips and silenced him.
"I love you too."
Those four words made his world light up in a million colors.
Maybe the world wasn't that bad after all if the love of his life did like him back.
