The Inferno's Indulgence

Chapt 47

Celeste

I exit my bedroom and enter the dim corridor. The lights here haven't rested in a while, and I don't mind. Trailing closer to the end of it, the soft spoken sound of jazz music filters the air. It's coming from my television. There is a man in a suit with a saxophone between his lips.

I smile a bit, knowing that I hadn't turned it there. I rarely ever play music on my television, and when I do, it's not jazz.

I turn away from the television and look towards the kitchen. I am barely even able to process what I'm doing before my feet move and I'm walking in that direction.

I enter the kitchen and go to the fridge where I pull it open to a carton of juice. Grabbing it, I close the door and walk towards the cabinet. I eye it's contents before fixating on a small glass.

I pull the glass out and pour my juice inside. The coldness can now be felt at my palm as I am holding the glass. I bring it to my lips for a small sip. Swallowing, I close my eyes and enjoy the taste and the feeling of it's coldness sliding down my throat to enter my stomach. It makes my body wake up for a slight moment. I thought my shower would encourage me to at least get a bit of work done since I'd be done with house chores for the night, but it only persuaded me to enter my bed and curl in the comfort of the sheets.

With my glass of juice on my hand, I twist my body and head back over to the fridge. I put it back and close the door as I have at another tasteful sip. I loll my tongue out and slide it across my lips to capture the remnants of juice trailing out of the small space of my lips.

And suddenly, I notice the back door. It's cracked.

I calmly walk towards it, the sound of jazz music still playing in the background. I pull the door open and step onto the porch.

Right at the corner of my eyesight, I see Xyle. I turn my head to him and take in his entirety. The night is falling, so it gives his skin a slight glare, which looks beautiful. His eyes are gray, his pupils dilated as he sees me. The scar at his right eyebrow, the one that rests near the corner of his face and at the temple, looks more gorgeous than ever. An old wound. Parted between his lips is a white cigarette. To my surprise it's lit and smoking.

My eyebrows touch immediately. I've never witnessed him do this before. I close the door behind me and turn my body to see him fully.

"I had no idea you smoked." I speak, pulling my arms closer to me and hugging my body as the wind threatens me.

He pulls his hand up to his lips and takes the stick between his pointer and middle finger. He pulls it away and blows out the smoke, letting it filter the air and fly with the wind.

"I don't. I just wanted to smoke the last one. I've had a pack for a while now." He tells me as he pulls it to his lips to inhale the smoke again.

I step closer to him, hugging my body, and climb onto the cute porch couch I bought when I first moved here months ago. It's funny that I've never used it. I sit next to him and stuff my feet underneath his thighs to warm them up. I bring my glass to my lips and have a swallow of my juice.

He eyes me shamelessly, an eyebrow softly raising. He inhales the smoke one last time before he turns his head to the side a bit and blows the smoke from the edge of his mouth.

"Is that alcohol?" He asks me, his voice sort of accusing me.

I slowly pull the glass away from my lips and look at him. His eyes are short of knowing what to expect, so I lead gently. I lift my head closer to his, so close to the point where our forehead and noses touch one another.