Dethklok- Intoxicate Me

A Glass of Water

The heat of his body engulfs me to the point where I have to push the blankets off of myself. He still grips me tightly in his sleep, hanging on to any bit of warmth he can get. I agreed to stay with him, to care for him. Eventually it might end up the other way around. Still, I let him bury his face in my neck.

It had taken a while to get him to fall asleep, actually. I'm not really sure why. I had given him the sleep medicine and a little after that he suddenly got extremely talkative. Not really energized, though, it was more random words spoken out of a haze. He's never spoken like that.

He told me that he cried when he was on tour. Because he missed me. He said he loved me about a thousand times. At first it was sweet, but it started getting scary. Nothing he said, just the way I felt. So, several doses of melatonin later, he finally calmed down.

Even though he's at peace, I lay in bed trying to bring my mind back to one thought, anything to keep it from bouncing back and forth like it is. My hands brush through his hair when he begins to stir, which normally brings him back into a deep sleep. It gives me time to get my thoughts organized.

I didn't realize how much I must mean to him. With his face so close to mine, breath spreading across my shoulder, it's easy to see. He clutches to my side like a baby to its blanket. Maybe when he was gone it was harder to think about. I had no reassurance for months.

After a while I myself finally fall into my own sort of conscious sleep. It only lasts until the sunlight streaming through the window shifts to my eyes. He still lays by my side, still breathes his hot breath onto my skin which went from making me nervous to soothing me. I sit up, though, as best I can, and pull the blankets down a bit so that his chest is exposed to the cool air. He's not burning up anymore, but it's better to keep it that way even if it's uncomfortable for him.

I stumble out of Skwisgaar's room, still trying to limber up my legs from being stuck in one place all night. It seems like most of the band members are still asleep, if not all. The only people walking down the halls are the gears, who look past me as I walk by. I'm not even sure what it is I'm searching for, I think I just wanted to get up. My first thought is to get Skwisgaar a glass of water, especially since he's in no shape to get one himself.

After quite a while of trying to locate the kitchen, I finally give in and ask a gear where to go. He directs me nearly halfway across the building. All this for a glass of water? Nonetheless, I take a cup and hold it under the running sink.

"You might wanna use this instead," someone says, breaking the silence and causing me to jolt a bit. Nathan places a pitcher of water on the counter beside me.

"We don't drink tap water."

I can't help but let out a breathy chuckle. Of course they're 'too good' for tap water. Skwisgaar probably wouldn't even notice, but I pour the tap water out and fill the glass with whatever kind it is that's in the pitcher.

"How's he doing?" Nathan asks, pouring a glass for himself before leaning back against the fridge.

"He was in bad shape last night. Better now, I think. Does he get sick often?"

Nathan shakes his head, a faint grin on his face, "No, not usually. It's weird, he's been different since he met you."

"Different how?" I ask. Is this what's been going on when I'm not around? Have I really influenced him that much? Is that a good thing?

Nathan shrugs, grin dissolving into his straight face. "Well, he doesn't participate in many activities backstage. I get it though, since most of them involve strippers." He takes a sip from his glass. "I dunno, he's been more distant from us. Even on the tour he was by himself most of the time."

"He messed up," Nathan says.

"What?"

"It was only once. We were playing ThunderHorse and he, uh, messed up. Fingers slipped or something. That's never happened unless someone else provoked it, ya'know?"

I can only hope this wasn't because of me. The day he played for me passes through my head, my knowing how much he loved it by the look on his face, I want it to just have been that. A simple slip up, for no reason.

"I should go bring this to him," I say, really just an excuse to leave this god awful conversation. After another 15 minutes or so I make it back. Skwisgaar looks up at me as the door opens.

"I thoughts you left," he says with a raspy voice. "Nope," I reply, "Just got you a glass of water. Specifically not from the sink, apparently that's a thing?"

He laughs and takes it from me, drinking about half the glass before laying down again. I lay beside him, looking directly into his eyes in search of something. And to both my pleasure and dismay, I find it. That feeling in my stomach, the one where it feels like it's swarmed with tiny butterflies, the cheesy one they describe in the movies.

I don't kiss him this time, but pull him closer to me so that his face brushes against my skin once again. He softly kisses my shoulder, not bothering to question it, and I can feel the clouds filling my head as I begin to develop whatever it is he has.