A Night at the Theatre

Chapitre 6 [SMUT]

[This part includes sexual content]

You winced as a spring pushed on your ribs. You were pestering silently against the couch and turned on your back out of anger, making a pillow fall on the floor, the springs squealing and the legs of the couch cracking threateningly.

"Fuck."

Would you be able to spend one single decent night of sleep here?

Your stomach suddenly made noise in the silence of the room; you put your hand on it.

You hadn't eaten that much this evening; you had never eaten a shoe sole, but you were quite sure its taste was close to the piece of meat Paul cooked for you, so all you ate were the trimmings, eatable. Plus, your attention had been dragged somewhere else at a moment... You thought about today. He kissed you. Damn. And you responded.

Why?

Weren't you supposed to hate each other?

You remembered the taste of his lips, the scent of his hair, his grip on your waist-

You got up and went to the kitchen, the cold tiles below your feet making you shiver and put your ideas back in your mind.

You opened the fridge and eyed what was inside. A silver box was shining below the light and attracted your attention; you hummed as your stomach screamed. Who could have said sardines would be an attractive midnight meal someday in your life?

You grabbed it and closed de door, as you started opening drawers; no can-opener in sight. You swore, but had resignation; nothing would prevent you to eat.

You took a knife, making the blade reflect the outside light. Yeah, it should be good. You tucked it at a side, pushed, pushed and...

"For god's..."

What had to happen happened; the knife had ripped and skinned your middle finger of the hand that was holding the box. Your first reflex was to clamp your other on it, holding your finger for dear life to make it stop bleeding.

The box and the knife fell in a resounding noise on the tiles, but you didn't hear it as all your senses were focused on the astounding pain you were feeling right now.

So of course, you didn't hear Roger come in the kitchen.

"You okay?"

You turned and jumped, your eyes shooting open.

He was against the light; you couldn't see his features; only his messy hair drawing a blond halo around his head.

You wanted to answer, but the pain had disoriented you, feeling your heart beating in your finger.

He took a step towards you and put his hand around your wrist, as you were still holding your finger in your hand flush against your chest.

You hissed at his movement: "You're a doctor now?"

He shrugged: "Well, I have a bachelor in Biology, so I can at least tell you what you shouldn't put on the wound so you don't die." He laughed at his pun, but you just eyed him, not presenting any reaction.

You said eyebrows furrowed: "Just... I don't know, Brian has certainly band-aids or something."

He quickly answered: "I do too! But before, you should rinse the wound to eliminate some bacteria's."

He now took your arm and you let him unfold it and drag you to the sink.

He gasped as he saw your finger; the cut ran all along it.