Love & Affinities (18+)

33

SOFIA MARCELLO

I knew he wasn't going to work at one in the night because none of the lights were switched on. Chills ran up my body whenever I took another step in the lack of light. The only thing that kept me going at that point was the man sitting in his office, bothered by his thoughts. 

My knees buckled and I fell to the floor, hoping to make a light fall, so I wouldn't be chased back to the bedroom before I even reached him. For a few seconds, I stayed the same way, refusing to move an inch until I heard crashing noises. 

Then a few thuds and that was all it took me to get up and sprint towards the door of his office. Instead of knocking, I pushed the door open and shrieked, shielding myself. He was armed with an almost empty bottle of scotch, ready to project it at the door. 

His eyes were bloodshot angry, breath heaving as if to tame himself and the veins on his arms protruding. My breath got stuck in my throat; too afraid to speak and say something that may agitate him further. Luckily, he was the first to break the formidable silence. 

''I think I told you to fucking go back to sleep.'' He places the bottle back onto the desk as my eyes linger on the broken shards littering the floor of his office. He pinches the bridge of his nose bringing to my attention the bruised red knuckles of his. ''Just leave.''

''I just wanted to make sure that you were okay. If there's something you want to tell m-'' He snapped again before I could even voice my reason for not doing as she said. 

''I don't want to fucking talk, Sof!'' His fist meets the wall behind me, right beside my head. ''Get that into your head.'' He's just trying to shut me out and it's okay. Maybe he doesn't wanna talk about it yet. But, I don't wanna leave him alone. I nod in agreement and go back to my room only to get both our pillows, a fluffy blanket and a first aid kit. 

''Why the fuck are you back?'' His fingers back to pinching the bridge of his nose; a habit of his whenever he gets frustrated. 

''Stop cursing at one in the night.'' My voice comes out as a whisper as if someone was hiding in the shadows. I throw everything onto the couch and grab his hand, pulling him to the bathroom. He doesn't seem to protest, knowing very well that I won't take no for an answer. 

My limbs fail to support me when I try to climb onto the counter, and suddenly, two arms wrap around me, picking me up and plopping me down onto the counter. The blush fails to not appear on my face when I bask in his touch. Clearing my throat, I clean up his knuckles carefully and then wrap a cold gel pack around them. 

We stay like that for five minutes when out of the blue, my head drops onto his shoulder as I try miserably to not fall asleep. An embarrassed chuckle leaves my throat to which he says nothing and keeps his stoic face on. The second time, my face falls onto his shoulder, I jolt awake but he rips off the gel packs and grabs my hips, my legs wrapping around his chiselled torso and his cold palm against my skin, exposed from underneath my top. 

''Ad, it's cold.'' He doesn't budge and when I expect him to drop me onto the couch and leave to somewhere else, he proves me wrong. He lays onto his back still holding me in his embrace and pulls over the blanket. 

''Sleep.'' Baby steps. The worst that could happen was him leaving me to sleep and leave himself in a mess of whiskey bottles. I thought he hated drinking but that's a topic for another day. And this turned out to be one of the best situations I could have ever predicted. My head nudges into his neck, taking in his minty scent. 

On the contrary to whatever happened earlier, my eyes refused to close just like his. I ran my fingers through the soft curls at the back of his head as he groaned. A few minutes later, I could feel him drifting off, when my movements slowed as did my breathing, falling into a patterned rhythm. My eyes shut close.