till again

27

"sometimes it's not the butterflies that tell you you're in love, it's the pain."

-unknown.

elora whitlock.

i press another kiss to his cheek gently as he sleeps.

i should be observing benji sleep more. he's adorable. his mouth is slightly open, his left hand is below his head supporting it on the pillow, the right one strongly wrapped around my waist and his hair is all over his face.

he usually ties his hair before sleeping, but he didn't last night. dont know why.

i shrug and yawn, about to get up when the pain hits me like a truck.

oh my god. my head is being banged by hammer.

it hurts so bad.

"mm, baby?" he whispers, feeling me move around in his grasp.

i dont reply, holding my head as the pain doubles.

i'm never drinking again.

"el?" he wakes up completely, and sits up, his back still leaning against the headboard as he pulls me to him, having my head laid down in his lap.

"my head's aching," i cringe at the pain.

he runs his hand through my hair, yawning still half asleep. "love, you need to get some more rest. i'll get you some tylenol later, okay?"

"are you saying that just because you're sleepy?"

he nods, "partially."

i roll my eyes and he smiles.

"you wait here, i'll go fetch something for your headache. alright?" he gets up, smoothening out the sheets over me again.

i nod and look up at him.

ooh baby.

he's bare chested, with loose grey sweats and open rough hair which still looks a tiny bit damp because of his shower last night.

he chuckles, and scratches the back of his neck, "good view, huh?"

"very," i reply before i can think of it.

he pushes at my forehead with his index finger, and walks out smiling. i sigh because of the pain, and get comfortable in the sheets.

two minutes later, the bedsheets start vibrating. i get up and look around spotting benji's phone ringing. i furrow my eyebrows noticing the contact.

"mère❤️'

[mom❤️]

i dont know french, but i do know emojis. 

mere.

who in the world is mere. and why do they deserve a heart next to their contact.

i grab the phone aggressively and pick it up before the second ring, and put it on my ear.

"benjamin zyair, my boyfriend, is busy." i state sternly.

he's my boyfriend.

not 'mere's. lame name too.

"hello dear i called to- oh. oh, who's this?"

"did you not listen? i said my boyfriend is bus-"

the door opens, and benji steps in with a glass of water and a pill in his hand. he tilts his head at me seeing me on his phone.

"who're you speaking to?"