Misfits (#2)

34.*

Everest.

We were sitting in his car one time when I was drunk as fuck, and Luca was sober as fuck. It was a wild party, not like I remember much of it but enough to comprehend that. I'd asked him, what it felt like to love someone.

It was dark and we were quiet. One of his hands was on the steering wheel when I saw the way his lips started to curve into the smallest of smiles. It was then I knew he was thinking of Ria. It's the smile he saves for thoughts of her.

"It's the rush of driving a little too fast. The thrill of a boxing ring. The snap of a camera. But all those things start to feel fucking meaningless because the good feeling you got from them, it's all right there when you look at her. Only fucking multiplied." He had said, "It's when she reduces everything else to absolutely nothing in comparison."

I remember the way he said it. Like it was the easiest thing to slip from his lips, no doubt or effort needed. I remember yearning for it but always believing myself to live a loveless life. Incapable of something like that.

Violet Fawn Amory is draped over my chest, her slender leg twined with mine and cheek against the dip of my neck. She's only wearing a silk chemise that's ridden up halfway to her waist, baring her delicate curves. She, is a piece of fucking art.

Anyone would believe it. It's not just because I'm obsessed with her but because she has this fragility to her features. Dainty and elegant, even as she's sleeping.

Clutching onto me like she's scared I might let go, one of her arms around my torso and the other around my neck. Everything but her seems meaningless in this moment. I know love now.

The high I get from joints and alcohol. The thrill I get from stirring trouble, or scoring a winning goal for the team. I hadn't realised how easily insignificant all of that stuff would become, until her.

It'd taken her a while to fall asleep last night, like her mind wouldn't stay still long enough. But even when her eyes shut eventually, I couldn't sleep. All I can think about is her against a wall, and her body shaking, and her eyes terrified. So fucking terrified.

It feels like someone's bashing a baseball bat against my ribs, and I can barely stay still right now. I've assumed her home life is a difficult one. She lost her dad and her youngest sister.

But I never thought I'd fucking see her brother yelling in her face like he was about to hurt her after the wall he punched. And I don't think I've ever held more hatred for anybody than I did in that moment.

Violet's the gentlest person I have ever come across in my life. Like her bones are made up of sweetness. To see her, helpless and scared— it makes me want to scream. Or kill someone.

I don't realise how tense I've become until Violet starts shifting. I try to loosen my posture again but those green eyes are already starting to open, between her small noises. Once she wakes, she lazily turns her head to look up at me.

Streaks of sunlight stray over her face, over those bright green eyes and her soft, flushed skin. She groans tiredly, letting her eyes shut again.

"Hi, sweetheart."

Even when she looks like she wants to bury back into her silk covers and sleep, her lips quirk into a smile at that.

"It's too early for you to make me blush." She murmurs and slumps, so her cheek is against my chest instead.

She doesn't move from her position, holding me tightly. I brace my hands on her thighs and pull her over me. Settling in the position, she crosses her forearms on my chest. She sets her chin on them.