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I woke up pressed against Kian's chest, his snores soft in my ear from where his head leant in my collar. He had both his arms locked around me, tied at the front by his fingers deeply pressed into my skin.
I felt safe.
I didn't have a stereotypical hangover, in fact even though I barely remembered the night before I merely had a headache and instead just felt drained. Even though I'd just woke up, I could've definitely gone back to sleep and slept for hours.
Something was stopping me from doing so and I couldn't think of what it could be until,
"Shit"
I slipped out of Kian's grip and rolled out of bed before bouncing into my clothes that were hung neatly upon the radiator. The warmth of them was actually pretty enjoyable, especially my jumper.
"Whattttt" Kian groaned flickering his eyes open and pulling his quilt in to spoon instead of me, he must've felt the cold air hit him after I slipped out "no that's not fair" he grumbled.
"What's not fair?" I asked with a laugh as I glanced around the room and found my laptop.
"You're supposed to have a hangover and look like shit" he pouted snuggling his face deeper into his bed "I'm supposed to look after you"
I thought about it for a second watching as he closed his eyes again and then reopened them slightly to look at what I was doing.
"Do you feel like driving me to work?" I asked him, wondering whether it was going to be a rhetorical question because I had no idea whether he was even awake.
"But you work from home" he scowled and I shook my head as I giggled.
"My ass has a meeting. Now are you taking me or am I going alone?"
Kian slowly sat up in his bed and rubbed his eyes aggressively letting out an annoyed groan. He was only in his boxers and I felt the need to look down at the floor even though I'd seen him in the same attire multiple times.
"Go get breakfast and I'll be ready" he said slumping his way towards his closet with his hair sticking up in different places.
I agreed and met Jc in the kitchen, he offered to cook me something but I opted for some fruit. He too was surprised at my immediate come back from the masses of alcohol I had consumed but I didn't let it faze me.
Kian called for me to get in the car and we drove silently for a while until he coughed a few times and then spoke,
"So how much of last night do you remember?"
The question rang through my head and started to make me feel a little dizzy, like I was drunk all over again. Honestly I wouldn't be surprised if I was still drunk with the way my body felt.
"Most if not all" I replied.
Kian gulped down and nodded as if he had nothing else to add onto his question, he fixed his eyes upon the road and carried on driving with his knuckles slightly turning white from the pressure upon the wheel.
"Will you pick me up after?" I asked him as he pulled into a parking lot just outside a building I rarely ever attended, but belonged to.
"Me and Jc are filming but just ring me" he answered parking the car before turning to look at me "why didn't you just drive here yourself so you had your car?"
I looked down at my fingers where they tapped a small tune upon my laptop and then back up to Kian as he watched me do so.
"I don't know" I mumbled before gulping down and responding "I just wanted to spend more time with you"
He smiled at my sudden shyness and reached across the console to place a hand on my thigh, it sent shivers through the whole of my body but for some reason excited me too.
"You're going to be late if you don't go" he laughed and I thanked him by placing a small kiss on his cheek.
I watched as he drove off and I was left alone in the parking lot only gripping my laptop.
Truthfully coming into this building filled me with such dread, but the employees all knew that and made sure they did everything in their capabilities to make me feel comfortable and welcome.
"Ms Jones" welcomed the man on the desk and I did a small awkward hand wave towards him, feeling as my anxiety grew and grew and grew until I felt like I was about to explode.
"Dillon, welcome back, take a seat" Eleanor my editor said tapping down upon a chair as she walked past it and sat down on the mirroring chair "I'd like to ask on how your work is coming along"
I took a deep breath and closed my eyes before bringing up the courage to speak.
"I'm really struggling. Nonfiction writing is all good when you can change around practically anything you want but a biography, like what you're asking for, is draining" the words came out more more poshly than I imagined them, but in my workplace I thought it was only right.
"I understand that but it's what the people want, they want to know about the person behind the characters they adore. You've been a ghost this whole journey, it's time you opened up and showed them you and not your imagination"
Eleanor knocked back on her chair and took in my slouched position.
"And what if my life's too deep and dark. No one wants to read a sob story"
Eleanor picked up a pile of papers and took the top one off, sliding it across the desk that separated us so that I could see the illustrations upon it.
They were only rough drawings drawn by some artist who had come in and tried to bring to life the people I had wrote about.
"You formed these two characters upon your own life experiences, they're based upon real life situations and they each hold characteristics of you and your peers." Eleanor circled the writing beneath it.
For Marla Jones, We are yet to see your beauty although it has been portrayed through your words. A kind and precious soul you are, with eyes that sparkle and illuminate the darkness, I'm sure.
I scoffed at the writing but still reread them over and over again to really soak in what the illustrator had meant by his cryptic message.
"Is he flirting with me?" I whispered with a scrunch of my nose, from what I'd heard the man was an ex author and over fifty.
"No no no" Eleanor almost snorted at the mention of it and began to circle the words again "he's trying to tell you that through your words you've shown that you've had dark times but have gotten through them"
"Okay where are you getting that from?" I scowled rereading the message again with a laugh, she giggled and shook her head.
She honestly felt like my mother half of the time, but that was mainly because of the immature stuff I came out with.
"All I'm saying is that your story wants to be heard and that this mysterious character that you have going on-" she spiralled her hand in gestures up and down my body as she spoke "-it needs to leave so people can see the real you"
I stood from my chair and took her hand in a shake not really wanting to listen anymore of her pointless rambles, I left the building almost on the verge of tears.
