𝐢𝐭𝐬 𝐝𝐚𝐫𝐤 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 || Cillian Murphy ¹

seven (edited)

Cillian awoke the next morning with a pounding headache, his mouth dry, his body heavy with the weight of last night's choices. The smell of stale whiskey clung to his clothes, and as he shifted in bed, the cotton sheets twisted uncomfortably around his legs. He groaned, rubbing his temples before reluctantly reaching for his phone. 

A handful of emails from his agent — potential scripts, auditions, obligations — flashed across the screen. He swiped them away, unwilling to let his professional life claw at him so early. Then he saw the missed calls.

All from Jenni, of course. 

His jaw clenched as he exhaled through his nose, willing away the irritation. He had no energy for whatever argument she was trying to pick. Instead, his eyes flicked to a single unread message. 

[AUDEN]: Hope you made it home safe. Thanks for the food.

Despite himself, he smiled. A quiet, private thing. He hadn't expected her to check in, but she had. That meant something, didn't it?  His fingers hovered over the keyboard, figuring out what to say before changing his mind and calling her directly.

Auden picked up on the first ring, her voice sending a jolt of energy through him, "Can I help you?"

He felt chuckle, "Thank you for getting me home last night. I'm sorry you had to deal with that."

"Yes well," Auden began, her voice weary, exhausted, "You're not the first drunk man I've had to take care of. I doubt you'll be the last."

"I wasn't intending to put you in that situation."

"You know what I've noticed?" Auden said, her tone slightly sarcastic, "There is a pattern developing, where I continually find myself in less than ideal situations with you."

She wasn't wrong. It seemed every time they were together, it was under circumstances neither of them had wanted nor enjoyed. He couldn't help but feel guilty.

His mind drifted back to the night before — the warmth of her arm around his waist as she steadied him, the scent of her hair – sparkling sandalwood and amber – so close it was dizzying. He remembered the way she moved, tucking that dark auburn hair behind her ear like it was second nature, the way her green eyes softened despite her exasperation. 

He wanted more of that softness. He craved it like an addict craved drugs – and that was a problem.

"Are you working late tonight?" he asked her quietly, listening to her soft breaths on the other end.

"I think so," Auden murmured, "We're overhauling the exhibits. It's taking longer than expected, since it's just me and Brigid."

"Let me come help you both," Cillian suggested, "It's the least I can do after everything."

Auden hesitated, mulling this over. "I don't know if that's a good idea."

"I am an expert at lifting heavy boxes," he added, attempting to sweeten the deal. On the other end, he could make out the high timber of Brigid's voice, though her words were unintelligible.