It's night when you wake up feeling more tired than you started off, sluggish and weak and aching in muscles you don't remember stressing. Your left arm is asleep from where you've been laying ontop of it, and you wave it around wildly to regain the feeling back in it. You just want this to be over; the day that's lasted forever.
You're alone, a conclusion you come to after sprawling out over the cool sheets and feeling nothing, and that has you irritated enough to get out of bed. The clock on the nightstand tells you it's a little after midnight and you come limping out of the dark bedroom scratching your stomach under your shirt lazily. It's chilly, and dark, but you can hear noise coming from downstairs. Normally, your paranoia would keep you underneath N'Jadaka's comfortable sheets, but in your groggy half-awake state you don't give a fuck.
But If it isn't him, then..
Quietly, you call out, not using his name in case he has shady late night company but you get no answer. But rather than be scared you walk right into the living room where the noise is coming from. There's no horrible scene or other girl in here like you half thought, only him and that tv and his hands. It's scandalous, you think, but you can't tear your eyes away from the way he's stroking himself. Whenever the two of you have slept together, he's only ever given a few pumps to hurry it up before wrecking you, and you never thought much of it. But now you feel creepy, like you've intruded on something very very private, despite the fact that you've seen and experienced lewder scenes. But he doesn't know you're standing there, so that makes it weird.
So you try and turn tail, quickly and quietly, but it's too dark and you catch the corner of the wall with your foot. It feels like your soul leaves your damn body and like you broke every bone in your foot but you keep it moving toward the stairs. You hear a faint 'what the fuck' before you clamber up the stairs and back into the bedroom. You're listening behind the bedroom door like a robber, heart pumping a hundred miles a second at the thought of him following you upstairs.
All kinds of thoughts are running through your brain, and one of them being how disgustingly parched you are. You'd waken up with dry mouth, and you'd have gotten a glass of water had N'Jadaka's stupid dick not distracted you. And now you're thinking about it alongside that damn delicious water that comes out of his sink filter. Water, water, water. Water is wet, and you keep repeating it in your mind as you tiptoe back down the stairs because it's the only thing keeping you from thinking about other things that tend to get wet.
You don't even look toward the living room, just scurrying into the kitchen, lit only by the light under the microwave. As quiet as you can you take a glass from the cabinet over the dishwasher, pushing the faucet up just enough as to allow a small stream of water to pass through the filter. It takes forever, but it works, and just as you take a sip the hairs on the back of your neck stand straight up. Almost immediately, your fight or flight response is activated and you half expect a gunman to be standing behind you ready to kidnap you again.
You just take a few heavy gulps before setting the glass down into the sink, shouting as a pair of arms appear on either side of you. It's only him.
"Don't scare me like that!" you whisper harshly, hands trembling. "How are you so quiet?"
"The fuck you creepin' around here for?"
You turn around then, wondering if you scared him as well when you hit your foot on the wall. Snorting, you push the thought away because how on earth could you possibly scare a man like him? It's silly, and you sigh, pressing your forehead to his chest in defeat. You close your eyes and he lets you stand there for an impressive amount of time before you remember what you interrupted.
