Heal

the fragile

(HURRAY FOR LONG CHAPTERS!)

The next day I woke up in a strange bed and a strange room and I think I had a heart attack.

“What the-”

As I looked around I saw a shirtless boy lying on the floor.

“Oh my god.” I gasped, covering my eyes and hoping that I would remember what happened last night. I couldn’t…

The boy rolled over and looked up at me from the floor. “Hi,” He grinned, his lip cut in the middle.

I couldn’t speak, I just put my hand to my head and prayed that somehow this wasn’t what it looked like.

“Oh. My. God.” I said again, standing up and hopping my way frantically to what looked like a door. “Where am I?” My head was throbbing and it looked like remembering last night was not going to happen.

The boy laughed, sitting up and throwing on a top that was lying on the floor. “You’re voice sounds different when you’re sober.”

“Oh god,” I said, covering my eyes and turning around as my cheeks turned red. Please, dear god, tell me that I did not go home with this boy.

“I’m messing with you, you’re just above the pub. You didn’t look like you wanted to go home last night.” He admitted, waving his hands around and standing up also. He stepped towards me in an attempt to calm me down.

“Who are you?” I asked, tilting my head and trying to recognise the boy from anywhere.

“George. The stranger that sits with you every night and drinks fancy cocktails.”

I stood, frowning in unrecognition.

“You really don’t remember me?” He looked a little offended. He tilted his head upwards and there it was. The green eyes I’d seen before I always ordered my first drink. Before I managed to forget everything.

“You’re fuck family boy.” I smiled, proud that I even remembered that. He nodded.

“And you’re fuck fox.” He nodded at me, and then his face contorted, “What did a fox ever do to you?” He asked.

I turned around, trying not to even think about what it did. Nothing, it, technically, did nothing. But it did everything all at the same time. “I don’t think that’s any of your business.” I managed to say with my voice strained.

“Sorry, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to pry I just thought it was-”

“Yeah, I get it.” I snapped, worrying that if he were to talk any more about I would murder him with my bare hands. I hardly managed to keep my father alive with all his talk about fox and his dear. I took a deep breath and turned round. “Sorry,”

“We all have our problems.” He nodded, looking more than guilty. I nodded in agreement and we stood there awkwardly for a few minutes.

I looked down and when I noticed that my mom’s jeans weren’t exactly on my legs I went a deep red shade. “Did…”

“No, no!” He shook his head, his cheeks going a shade of red darker than I knew cheeks could ever go. He then laughed and ran his hand threw his hair. “I slept on the floor, didn’t move.” He pointed to the pathetic pillow on the floor.

“Is that all you slept on?” I asked, feeling guilty for stealing his bed.

“I’ve had worse,” He said, shrugging and playing it off like it was nothing big. I’d never slept on the floor, and that’s when I realised we really did have our own problems. He laughed at my shock and threw the pillow back onto his bed.