Finally things are beginning to make sense!
Thanks for coming back to the book again. Talking books, if you haven't, go and read 'Sergeant Neal' and the sequel 'Life Fractured' because ma gurl youtubes_trash needs more readers now okayyy!
Also towards the end I'm well aware Link wouldn't do 'that' sort of stuff and me writing about it doesn't say I want him to either. It's fiction and part of the storyline so if you have a problem with that with all zero respect please pack your bags and leave, thank ya :)
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As soon as the sharp, chilly breeze from the open windows hit Link's bare torso, his eyes shot open.
He fixated directly at the ceiling above; his body not allowing himself to move even one inch. When Link's brain was slowly beginning to start running again, an immobilising pain shot through, making him wince as he remembered how drunk he became the night before. He was always cursed with the worst hangover symptoms, but now coupled with the cuts on the side of his face, the pain was ten times worse than normal.
Pushing through the discomfort, Link knew something felt very wrong. And with the second gust of freezing air hitting his skin, Link tilted his head to see himself completely undressed and out in the open. Not only that, but his neck right down to his thighs were littered with burgundy love bites, and the covers were pushed all the way off the bed onto the floor. The rain had simmered down, with broken sound that lingered like a perfume. An almost complete recipe, just missing one thing.
Soft snores came gently from his right, causing Link to leap up, trembling from the sudden adrenaline. His eyes didn't even make it to the figure deeply dreaming there, but straight to the red glowing alarm clock sat on the bedside table.
It read 4:03am.
"403," Link whispered to himself; his mind now transfixed on the bright numbers, haunting it.
"403.. 403."
Repeating the numbers under his breath, Link eventually looked over as there was no point trying to ignore him. Rhett was on his side facing away, still exuding the same passion he had from hours before.
Regret. It never gave Link a break as he struggled back into his clothes, trying not to wake up Rhett with his movements. He needed to leave, and never, ever remember what occurred again. But the numbers never left him alone.
"403, 403-" Link mumbled silently again. It never seemed to stop, but the clock didn't read the same anymore. The sight angered him, but most that he let it all happen in the first place. That he stayed the night when he could have left. That he let himself pour the fourth glass, knowing what would happen. That he didn't stop Rhett crawling on top of him, ready to make love as the rain plummeted down, like his thoughts.
Link successfully got his boxers and jeans on without waking up Rhett, but his top that he must have thrown away was nowhere to be seen. On the opposite side of the room, a tall mirror hung against the wall and was the perfect place for Link to see himself reflected. He was so scared Christy would notice them, so he tried to find a spare hoodie to cover himself so she wouldn't find out.
To his joy, Link found a large maroon one that was Rhett's, draped over the heater which he decided would do the job fine. Pulling it over his head, his heart dropped as he heard muffled noises coming from the bed.
"Mm- Liiiink?" he slurred, rolling over and reaching his arm out to the empty space where Link was originally. Rhett's eyes flickered open as he felt the void beside him, and Link watched from a distance in fear. He played with the idea of telling him he was there, or even maybe letting himself have a full-blown panic attack so Rhett could calm him down and reassure everything was going to be okay. But he knew it wasn't. And the best thing to do was leave, and make no sounds at all.
