GAGE

14| d r u n k

Gage didn't say a word when we pulled into my driveway and I left.

I hadn't seen or heard from him since that morning.

It's only Wednesday and that happened on Sunday.

Of course I though about him occasionally, but I didn't really know what emotion to feel about it.

Was I supposed to feel anything? I don't miss him. I see different guys all the time, maybe they don't take me to secretive 'meetings' and fight in alleys, but it's nothing too bizzare.

Gage has a mystery to him that I wonder about and I had since that first night I saw him in front of that wall.

I have my History BA class soon and I have nothing to do right now. I possess absolutely no desire to prepare myself for the class.

I lay in my bed in an oversized sweater and no pants.

The pros of living alone.

While I'm doing anything and everything to keep myself occupied right now, a bang on my door gets my attention and I jog down my creaky stairs.

The banging continues and I run a hand through my hair before opening the door.

I take in the view in front of me, not knowing what to say.

"Well aren't you gonna let me in?" The tall specimen in front of me smirks.

"Gage," I breathe, "What are you doing here?" I look at his freshly busted lip and bruised knuckles, "And why do you look dead?"

"Because I haven't seen you this week." He says sarcastically.

"Who'd you fight this time?" I ask, unamused.

He tries to come in, but I put my hand on his chest, "What do you think you're doing?"

"Can't I come visit my girl?" He smirks.

"Are you drunk?" I scoff an hang my mouth open.

"Define drunk." He looks at me, "Come on just let me in."

"You drove here drunk. What the hell is wrong with you?" I raise my voice.

"You." He whispers and closes his eyes, leaning against my door frame. He hisses and grabs his shoulder, "Fuck."

I roll my eyes and exhale, "Come on." I grab his arm and lead him in. I pull his arm to my bathroom and he sits himself on the counter.

His head rests on the mirror behind him and he closes his eyes again.

I furrow my eyebrows, "Are you okay?"

He replies seconds later, "I am now." A small smirk creeps up on his lips.

For a second my stomach tightens and I almost vomit.

He keeps his eyes closed as I get my cotton pads and alcohol from under my sink.

I put the alcohol on the pad and gently press it to the cut under his eyebrow. His brow twitches slightly and once no more blood comes off, I move it to the swelling scratch on his cheek.

I toss the used cloth into the trash can and drench another with the alcohol.

I clean the dried blood under his slanted nose and the wet blood on his lip.

"You really like this art shit don't you?" He asks quietly.

"How could you tell?" I say sarcastically as I rub a new cotton pad over his red knuckles.

"Just a guess." He shrugs.

I laugh and look up to see him actually smiling at me. Not smirking, but really smiling, but then I remember out loud, "You're so drunk."

He chuckles, "I missed you."

"You don't even know me. What's there to miss?"

"What's not to miss?"

I laugh again at his stupidity.

"So damn cute." His eyes melt into mine until I break our eye contact, looking back down at his hand. I look at a blood stain on his shirt and gasp.

"Have you been fucking shanked?" I gasp.

He chuckles, "That's from the other guy. I really got him good."

"Take this off," I request, tugging on his shirt, "Why did you come to my house of all places?"

He pulls it over his head and a few cuts are visible.

His hair is messy when it's revealed and the hood comes off, "Because." He trails off.

His eyes shut once again while I clean him and once I'm done I put the alcohol and cotton pads away.

"Thanks." He murmurs.

"Mhm." I hum.

"I came here because no one else would've helped me." He admits.

"What made you so sure I would?" I ask.

"I don't know."

"Afterall, I am a cunt, right?" I smirk his way.

"I didn't me-"

"It's fine," I cut him off.

I sigh after a few moments of silence, "I have to go to class now."

"Okay."

"Okay..." I drag.

"I'll wait."

"I guess you should since you're drunk off your ass." I smile.

He gives me a dreary look and I chuckle. I turn away to go to my bedroom to change.

I grab my black cross body and head to the door.

When I come back downstairs I see Gage looking at my walls with drawings all over them, "I'm surprised my shitty art isn't blinding you."

"I never said yours were shitty." He continues looking.

"Yeah, whatever," I dismiss and walk out the door.