out of breath ; hemmings au

twelve

We’re both lying on our backs warmed up by the blankets and the adrenaline our bodies are still releasing. All I can hear is the heavy breathing escaping our lips trying to come back to normal. To be honest, this is awkward. He hasn’t said a word to me and I can’t find anything to say either. Maybe it’s normal not to talk after getting laid, but I can feel there’s something else going on. And it’s making the situation way more uncomfortable.

“I don’t know about you, but I really need that bottle of vodka,” he said.

I look at him, and even though he’s not looking back at me, I can almost see his thoughts running before his eyes like little holograms. I wish he could tell me what is crowding his mind, what makes him so desperate for alcohol and why he can’t just, at least, act as if he was happy about sleeping with me; he knows I feel like shit after what I found out.

He slowly sits up and climbs down the back of the truck to find his underwear. He pulls it up his skinny legs and right after, he finds his t-shirt somewhere in the ground to put it on as well.

“Can you please hand me my stuff?” I ask but there’s no answer. He was mumbling things under his breath. I guess his mind is far away.

“Luke,” I said a little louder, and not until the second time I yelled his name he turns to look at me. His cheeks immediately tint with reddish colours and I feel the need of covering myself up. Thankfully I had blankets on hand. 

“Can you pass me my things?” I spoke slower and quite harsh since his attitude was kind of offending to me.

He gathers the pieces of clothes that belong to me to throw them at me. I thank him and he nods. Soon he disappears of my sight and I start putting my clothes on. I sit there thinking to myself, waiting for him to come back and share that vodka.

This is making me too anxious. Once again my subconscious is dropping the worst thoughts in my mind. I try to shrug them off, but it’s impossible. I laugh at myself for being so stupid. At first, I thought drugs and alcohol were my escape, and that a boy could put me out of my misery when all he did was to drag me deeper. Then, I believed Luke was being honest when he showed me he cared. I thought that maybe we could act like we were right for each other for the sake of both of us, since we’re pretty fucked us. But I was wrong again. The worst part of it all is that I still believe drugs and alcohol is the only way to win my inner battle.

Luke is taking too long to come back, so I sit up and scream his name. No answer. I get out of the truck and find him drinking on the root we were sitting before.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” I ask. He shrugs without meeting my gaze.

I walk closer to him and ask for the bottle, which he hands to me. I take a long sip and let the liquid burns my throat.

“Why are you acting so weird?”

“It's nothing,” he dismisses me.

“It doesn’t seem like nothing, but okay,” I say and head towards the truck with the bottle.

“Moon...” I roll my eyes and turn on my heels. I hum and he continues, “We can’t do that again.”

“Yeah, I had a great time too,” irony clear in my voice.

“It’s not that. It’s wrong, okay?” he meets my eyes over his shoulder.

“Yeah, whatever. I don’t want to do it again anyway,” I give him my back, but I need to ask further. “Why did you do it if you didn’t want to?”

“I wanted to Moon, but we can’t keep doing that,” his voice was getting closer with every word. I could feel him breathing behind me. “You have a boyfriend…” he trailed off.