Spades and Angels

Mi Amada Querida Corazón

Maddox

The next morning I woke up with a splitting headache. One that speaks to a late night of crazy, impulsive decisions. The last one I remember being this bad was when I accidentally passed out down a ditch and the guys didn't find me for at least a day. Maybe two I don't remember.

Next to me, Lo's splayed like a starfish with her hands fisting the coverlet and her head on my lap since we're curled around each other. Kind of like cats in that sense. Sighing I feel sore in other places too, but there are holes in my memory since I can't remember most of it. Not after the second shared orgasm that had me seeing stars for the first time. That's where the holes start.

I remember some things. Drinking. Dancing. Music. Movies. Snacks and jokes. Smoking until we went from stone-cold sober to higher than fucking kites and straight into what I remember us jokingly calling stonerland. As well as other crazy shit including us somehow topping our running count of how many times we could sleep together in one night. Not having all the details but remembered enough to know we indulged in the madness Lo so aptly described. But only in pieces. Fragments I can't fit together to make a complete picture since I can't remember all of it.

Oops. Guess we might have overdone it.

Laughing it off as best I can I can See Lo's still asleep, eyes closed and lashes make inky crescents on her dusky skin. Arms twisted around me so I couldn't move even if I wanted to. Smiling to myself I shift how I'm lying ever so slightly so I can free one of my hands, using it to run my fingers through her hair gently enough not to wake her. Marvelling at how peaceful she looks, how still. Trapped watching her as the feeling from last night comes back. Flooding through me but this time telling me its name, illuminating what we'd both - at least I think it's us both - been feeling for a while but had avoided facing. Perhaps following the foolish line of thinking that if we simply didn't name it, then it might just disappear. Fade away or be found to be nothing more than a fleeting attraction that would disappear over time. That if we didn't name it, and didn't acknowledge its existence, then it wouldn't be real. That we can avoid starting a war that from what I remember looking in Lo's eyes last night we know is coming now. That the truth is we're too far gone into this....this ruination I remember hearing her whisper last night. A divine ruination of chaos. That's what this is. A divine ruination of chaos we're lost in and probably have been lost in ever since she asked me to fall off the ledge with her on Homecoming night. Both willingly falling into the darkness this causes, both willing participants the more it grew, twisting through us. Pulling us back to one another and tangling us as one. Until it's too late.

You love her, don't you? You really like her, maybe even love her. No, you do love her. Fuck how didn't I see it? You fell for a Spade, fuck man that's a bad idea. Ash's words from our phone call mine and Lo's first morning here come back to me then and I'm tempted to laugh at their accuracy if not for what it's made me finally realise in admitting the veracity of my friend's words. Even if just to myself in the silence of my thoughts.

I love her. I'd fallen head over heels and fucking beyond in love with her. With the Queen of Spades. Cursing me to chase the one girl I can never have. I love her. Am in love with her....holy fucking shit. I'm in love with Lolita Alcaraz.

Sighing I don't stop what I'd been doing with my hands and her hair, rather taking the time to study her again as if for the first time. How small and fragile she looked, something I knew from experience couldn't have been more of a deceptive glamour, hiding how strong she truly was. How beautiful she was, even with the few scars she had. Pale white lines cut the dusky colour like warnings. Some looked self-inflicted, others the remnants of someone else lifting a hand to her. An image that makes me feel both mad and guilty for reasons I can't explain with words. My hands still trailing through her long midnight hair that's so silky it slips through my fingers almost before I have time to grasp it and keep it there. Slipping. Slipping through my fingers the same way I can't stop feeling she will if this goes wrong. If I'm wrong.