Chupacabra | 18+ | ✔️

▪︎■ 17 ■▪︎

▪︎■ Ainara Moreno ■▪︎

For the last two days, I had locked myself inside my office. I didn't eat, barely slept and spent my time with alcohol and guilt, because I basically abandoned my daughter. Miguel took care of her, he told me from outside the door a day ago.

Nevertheless, my emotions devoured me alive and when another bottle fell to the floor, empty, I really felt the lowest ever.

It was night, no one awake anymore. The ones that were, were busy. I was alone. I knew it was dangerous for me in this state, knew myself well enough to understand I needed help. My gaze locked onto the fabric on the floor that once was the shirt of Bianchi.

I had to talk to someone, or don't, just stay with another person. I walked over to the door, took my keys and unlocked the only barricade that held me back.

By the time I reached my car, the last uncertainties died down and were replaced with carelessness when I saw myself in the mirror; tear streaks with mascara, messy hair and a borderline crazy expression...

I drove until I saw a familar corner and I just knew I would regret it as soon as the alcohol wouldn't be controlling me anymore.

Five minutes later, my car parked at Bianchi's home. I got out, accidentely pressed down onto the horn, cursed, stumbled up to the building and was lastly stopped by the guards.

"Ma'am, you can't go in there," one of them said while the other grabbed me.

"Let me go!" I tried to wind myself out of his grip, fighting like a child throwing a tantrum.

"What the fuck is going on here?"

Mr. Bianchi stood inside the doorframe with crossed arms and furrowed brows. The guard let me go and I tumbled onto the hard floor.

"Motherfu-" I couldn't end the curse because a shadow came over me and stealt my attention. I looked up at him, trying to see clear by blinking a few times.

"Are ya," hickup, "still in your suit?"

"You're drunk," he said, dismissing the guards before kneeling down to face me.

"I'm nottt drunk," I aswered slurring.
He sighed, then looked over his shoulder to my (second) car. When he spoke again, his voice was harsh and reproachful: "Did you drive like this?"

My eyes became big with his tone and another tear rolled down my cheek. I wanted to answer, but felt my mouth watering and my stomach getting bubbly. Before I could think any further, I threw up. He didn't back up, even when I was sure I got something on his shirt.

"I... I'm sss-sorry, please don't punish me."

He sighed again. "You're killing me, woman... Come on, let's get inside, I'm freezing my ass off..."

He tried to bring me to my feet, failing because my body refused to help him out. I just sat there, not moving at all. "It's okayyy, just let me sit on the door... no... f-... floor!"

"Yeah, no, not gonna happen. You would just keep everyone up all night or throw up over my stairs."
His hands grabbed my back and the back of my legs, hunching me up and carrying us both inside.

I pressed my face into his shirt. "You smell so" hickup, "good!"

His hand lightly squeezed my thigh.
"Yeah? You sure it's not your vomit you're smelling?"

"Asshole. Why- you keep being so mean?" I blushed, tears of embarassment welling up in my eyes.

I felt him taking a deep breath, letting it out a second later. "Am I?" he asked. "Sorry, dear. I don't do so well with drunk people..."

He arrived at the bathroom, sitting me down onto the floor. I barely held my eyes open. "I'm so tired, Bianchi, you're so comfyyy," I slurred.

I felt him wiping over my face and mouth with a warm, wet cloth.
"It's Adrin," he said. I cocked my head to the side.
"No, nooo, my name is-" hickup, "Ainara!"

The man smiled, lightly shaking his head. "Well, Ainara, before you can sleep, I need to clean us both up. You'll need some new clothes..."

"I-... I think I have to-" Before I threw up again, I rushed forward, hugging the toilette. I felt a hand on my head, grabbing my hair in a ponytail.

"Interesting reaction, that has certainly never happened to me while talking about taking my shirt off..."

One of my hands hit his body behind me when I got annoyed by the cocky tone of his voice.
Adrin got back to soothing words when my body began to shake.

"Easy, easy, everything's gonna be fine... That's good... get it all out."
It should have been weird, but he said it in a generous, soothing tone which actually really helped me out.

I sank back against a cupboard and let him gently lift my chin to- again- clean me up. My head turned to the side, making him stop in his movement.

"I'm sorry. For making a mess and being a burden and coming here to yell at you," hickup, "again..."

"You didn't yell at me," he said.

"I planned to do," I confessed.

He laughed for the first time that evening, cracking up the serious look on his face. Barely loud enough that I could hear him. I watched a pair of dimples appear which made him look adorable. I smiled and looked down at them, then at his eyes and switched again. My hand reached out to touch his dimples.

"I like- your pimples." I looked at him, oblivious. A few seconds passed before I shook my head. "Dimples! I meant-... dimples. I'm a fucking idiot..."

"My mom liked them, too." He shook his head and seemed to be his serious self again.

"Are you able to shower or do you just want to change for the moment?"

I thought for a few moments. "I don't think I can take a shower. I wasn't this drunk since... No, actually, I was drunk like this for the last few days."

I frowned. "Why would I say that?"

He sighed and got up. When he returned to me, he held a glass filled with water. "Try to drink in little sips."

I nodded and tried to follow his recommendation. Immediately I cursed myself for nodding that hard when every movement felt like it could make my dizzy self throw up again. I was miserable, my stomach protesting every passing moment.

"I'll go get some clothes, okay?"

"S-sure," I said. The man dissappeared through the door and left me.