Nepenthe [] A MLM situationship smut

Here We Are Again

"Hey, can I come over?"

The clock on my bedside table flashes a deep glowing red across my bedsheets: 3:34. His voice is broken and wet when he rasps out the question. It's not jarring anymore, I find familiarity in being his last resort. Towards the beginning, my heart sank and fluttered with every ring of my cell. But upon recent, I've learned I'm his safe space, and as I scrub the itch from my left eye I realize that I find familiarity in him as well.

"Ax?" A yawn wracks my body before I can respond, followed by a stretch so deep that my every inch quivers, leaving me deflated in the darkness. I lick my lips, formulating a response.

"Yeah. The door's unlocked, you know you're welcome," and after a brief breath-filled stall, "do you need me to come get you?"

My voice comes out creakier than expected, but still intelligible. Especially given how long they've followed this routine. I've sounded worse. The breathy silence drags on and I'm about to attempt another nudge before he finally responds.

"No, no, I'm good. I'm on the way," he mumbles, sounding utterly defeated. Normally I'd hang up now, but the barely present hitch in his breathing leads me to assume there's more to say.

And after a moment of hesitation, I receive a quick, "Thank you."

Pleasantries are rare when it comes to Kaz. I allow a little smirk to creep onto my face before muttering a gentle salutation and hanging up. After knowing someone for so long, you come to feel a pattern. I wonder what's got him so grateful. I sigh and sit up straight, running a lazy hand through my tousled hair and staring out the star-spattered window across from my bed foot. My blinks are heavy and slow, my body begging for me to sink back into unconsciousness. I close my eyes briefly, reminiscing on sleep before tilting and reluctantly exiting the warmth of my sheets to piss.

My bare feet on the cold tile sends a shiver up my spine, traveling through to my arms and neck. Kaz not living too far means that I have a 10 minute window to prepare for his presence. The thought of his warm touch and wild eyes has my heart racing, but I steady myself with a deep breath before fumbling for a toothbrush in my moonlit porcelain surroundings. I catch a glance of my face in the mirror, and I'm met with the reality of the situation. We swore ourselves off last time, but we both know it was bullshit. Who am I, if not his morphine? I watch myself smile, gripping the lip of the sink basin gently. Fuck.