Precious Virtue ✓

Chapter 29: Mr. Perfect

Precious Virtue

Chapter XXIX: Mr. Perfect

[Preston's POV]

For the next week or so, Elijah tried multiple times to talk to me about my drinking habits, insisting I should cut back and seek some kind of professional help. Whenever we weren't in class, studying, or having sex, he would try to talk to me about it. And every time he brought it up, I became more annoyed, and I would either snap and tell him off, or ignore him completely.

It was pissing me off. I wish he would just shut up about it and leave me alone. Everything was pissing me off lately if I was being honest. Elijah's nagging pissed me off. Adrien's snuggly pictures with Luka on Instagram pissed me off. My chemistry class pissed me off. I accidentally bought the wrong shampoo this week and that fucking pissed me off.

And holy fuck, I wanted to push Elijah away and tell him to leave me the fuck alone so that I could drink in peace, but I couldn't.

The more days that passed, the more alone and isolated I felt, and the more everything around me seemed foggy and unreal. I spent a majority of the time in lectures completely zoned out, sometimes to the point where I forgot why I was even there in the first place. Sex with Elijah helped ease the voice in my head that feared being alone. It didn't ease the voice forever, but it did for just a little while. I craved the attention. I was afraid of him becoming distant from me again, afraid of him leaving me alone, so I clung to him the way I knew best—with sex.

I was tired of feeling this way—tired of feeling so consumed by these intense bouts of loneliness, anger, and fear. Tired of feeling chronically empty despite feeling so much all the time. Was that even possible? To feel so much yet feel nothing at the same time?

I just wanted it all to stop. I wanted the voices in my head to shut up.

I woke up with a groan and a headache, throbbing and squeezing around my forehead. Rubbing my eyes, I rolled over on the bed and reached for my phone on the nightstand, tapping the screen. I flinched at the bright screen, which only worsened the throbbing in my head.

I sighed heavily when I read 12:14 PM on my phone screen and flopped down on the bed. I rolled on my back, tucking my arm behind my head, and glanced over to Elijah. He was fast asleep next to me, lying on his stomach facing away from me, snuggled up to the wall that the bed was tucked up against. His arms were hugging the pillow under his head, his naked body covered by the blankets.

We hung out in his room last night, talking about deep shit, showing off pictures of our pets from home, playing music, and having sex. We stayed up so late that I ended up crashing with him in his room like I've been doing a lot lately. I don't even know why I bothered either—these beds were so small and uncomfortable that they barely fit the both of us.

Rubbing my temples, I closed my eyes, slipping out another heavy breath. I opened my eyes again minutes later when I felt movement next to me, and the noise of rustling blankets. Still on his stomach, Elijah pushed himself up so that he was resting on his elbows, his hair a mess and his eyes still dazed with sleep.  When he brushed his hair out of his face and turned his head, I smirked.

"Good morning sleepyhead," I mused with a chuckle.

Elijah groaned, resting his head back against his pillow. "My whole body hurts."

"Yeah? That means I fucked you good last night." I said, grinning. Elijah rolled his eyes.

"Or, this bed is just complete shit," Elijah complained, shifting closer. He pushed himself up to press his lips against mine.

"Happy Birthday." He murmured. I smiled against his lips.

"You said that last night while you were giving me a blowjob."