a/n: highly recommended to be listened to while reading 🎧 ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━
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"You won't throw up on me, right?"
➳
"𝐃𝐎 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐖𝐀𝐍𝐓 𝐌𝐄 𝐓𝐎 drive you home?" Vox asks, glancing over at you—whom was still collapsed in his arms.
You sit still, not wanting to make any sudden movements that might trigger you to puke again. Letting out slow, steady breathes from your lips, you give a little nod.
Vox helps you up, resting his hand on the small of your back. And, to your surprise, he moves his arm from behind your knees and swoops you up, cradling you bridal style.
Your cheeks flush, and instinctively, your arms shoot around his neck to steady yourself. He is noticeably just as flustered to see you holding onto him—but he doesn't mind.
You clear your throat. "You...don't have to carry me."
"But I want to," he says abruptly.
The room is far too quiet for your liking—the only audible sounds surrounding you was the explicit club mix from outside, muffled by the bathroom door.
"Um...okay."
Clearly embarrassed, Vox awkwardly struggles to open the door with his elbow, causing you to cringe from your own humiliation.
Like a weight lifted from your shoulders, you allow yourself to look back up at him once he finally managed to open the door.
"You won't throw up on me, right?" he asks jokingly, despite there being some truth behind it.
"I won't."
He wouldn't have really minded, anyhow. He would gladly take a vomit-bomb from you as long as it helped.
Vox paves through the crowd with you in his arms, earning a coy, drunken smirk from Velvette in the corner.
He rolls his eyes, averting his focus back to you as the two of you make it back into his car.
You slide out from his arms, opening the passenger seat before filing in. Vox follows.
He cranks the key until hearing a rumble from the engine. You grimace.
"That sounds great for the environment," you remark in a matter-of-factly tone.
He laughs. "More or less."
The car glides through the rainy night, the rain beginning to tread heavily on top of the windshield. It's tranquil, but beautiful.
"Do you want to listen to something? Like, music?" Vox clarifies, not taking his eyes off the road.
"Um...sure."
"I made a tape," he says. "It's in the glove compartment if you want to put it in."
You quirk an eyebrow. "I'm surprised. Didn't know someone like you would be so old-fashioned."
Vox shrugs, his right hand resting atop the steering wheel whilst his overcoat hangs on the side of his shoulder. You hated to admit it, but he looked hot.
"Thought I'd give it a try," he reasons.
You reach into the glove compartment, retrieving a tape through mountains of speeding tickets. There's a white sticker with something written on top of the tape. It's dark, so you squint to read it. Your breath catches in your throat once you see it says '(Y/N)'.
Assuming he must've forgotten, you quickly push it into a slot above the control panel. You recognize the first song instantly; "I Say A Little Prayer."
"I say a little prayer for you..."
"The moment I wake up—before I put on my makeup, I say a little prayer for you..."
Your mind begins to clout with questions; Is this is way of trying to tell me something? ...Or am I just overthinking it?
"Forever, forever, you'll stay in my heart."
You look out your window, pretending to find great interest in whatever's outside, (though failing miserably, as the rain masks your view).
"Super rainy," you say, tapping your foot anxiously against the floor.
"Oh. Yeah."
The car smelled like peppermint and expensive cologne, causing your heart to pound against your chest.
It smells like him.
"And I will love you forever and ever. We never will part. Oh, how I'll love you."
"Are you feeling better?"
"Together, together, that's how it should be."
"Hm? Oh, yeah. Yeah, I am. Thanks for uh... helping me," you blush, recalling the embarrassment of puking in front of him. "Sorry about that, by the way."
"To live without you, would only mean heartbreak for me."
Vox smiles. "It's okay. I'm just glad...you're feeling okay," he rests his hand on your thigh. Your eyes widen.
You expect him to pull away instantly, but he doesn't. Instead, he gives it a loving squeeze, glancing over at you. You find yourself resting your hand over his, smiling.
The song continues to play quietly in the background, but is now forgotten by the two of you.
"I run for the bus, dear. But while riding I think of us, dear."
"You do know that I still..." Vox trails off, beginning to regret speaking in the first place. He clears his throat, rephrasing his sentence. "I still love you," he states flatly. "You know that, right?"
"I figured," you reply, smiling down at your hands.
He smiles at the road. "Yeah. I thought you did."
"For me, there's no one but you. Please love me true. I'm in love with you..."
