Dirt

34

Princeton

I woke up a few hours later with the pain that seemed to surround my body anyway I moved. The only comfort I had was Knox's hand rest on my high hip, his lips parted in steady breathing of sleep. I'm luckily on the side that isn't beginning to swell shut.

I forgot how nice it is waking up to him. He's so peaceful and beautiful, fully visible in the vulnerability of sleep. His stars dusted over his cheeks complicating the complex galaxy that makes up Knox Foster. His curls are messy, signs that he's run his hand through it too many times in a row. Long eyelashes flutter in tune with whatever dream is occupying his peaceful mind. He even has his earbuds in, I can only guess what sleep playlist is playing.

Feeling him touch me, the single hand touching the bare skin of my upper hip, a light touch like even in sleep he knows to be careful.

I want to lay forever and watch him. The pain doesn't agree. I don't want to wake him up so I try to shift my body to see if that lessens the pain any bit. Of course, that causes more pain. The exhaustion has lifted enough that I can feel every single fire burning in my body. It's still dark out, Knox is asleep, Roger is asleep -I'm assuming- so I try to bite my lip to hold cries of desperation as I try to find some level of comfort than can at least support me starring at the ceiling for four hours.

Biting my lip breaks blood into my mouth, a slight distraction. I make the mistake of trying to clench my fist. That is a cry I can't hold back.

The bed shifts next to me. I look out the corner of my eye to watch Knox blink slowly, frowning in the dark, the only reason I can see him is being so close to him. He pushes his head off his pillow, clearly trying to get an understanding of what's happening. He pulls out both his earbuds, dropping them on his pillow.

I keep my mouth shut, silently hoping he'll realize I'm fine and go back to sleep. 

Knox, however, is never that simple. He leans a bit closer, his face inches away from mine as he whispers hoarsely, "Are you okay?"

I nod meekly, "Just...um..."

Knox's frown deepens with concern, moving a bit more to get a better picture of my body, even though its mostly covered by his blankets, "Are you in pain? Fuck, what time is it?" His face disappears as he searches for his phone. A bright light flashes for a moment before he comes back, "It's been four hours. How much did you drink?" I can hear a tiny, itty bitty bite in the question.

I wince just a bit, "Um, I don't know. A water bottle full."

Knox sucks in a deep breath between his teeth, "Jeez, Princeton. Fuck, while you were at work?" 

Guilt and embarrassment flood through me, my cheeks burning knowing just how disgusting I seem. I'm no better than Dad. A pitiful alcoholic that creates more problems than they can solve.

"I...I'm not as strong as I'd like to be..."

Knox stares at me, eyes blinking slowly as he looks down at me, his frown disappearing as he licks his lips slowly. Then he shakes his head, sitting up and twisting away.

He hates me. 

I'm so disgusting.

I'm so pathetic.

I'm so weak.

He comes back, a glass in one hand and his other cupped. 

"I need you to try to sit up just a bit. Or you'll choke," I nod, not making eye contact and only able to lift my shoulders up without the ache in my sides hold me down. Knox deems it okay, offering a handful of pills. I take it in my unbroken hand, my bicep muscles hating me for it. Knox holds the glass for me, gently tipping it for me to get enough water to swallow the pills. I nod when it's too much, he instantly pulls away the glass.