Consequences

4. clumsiness

My eyes flutter open when a buzzing noise echoes through my head. The remnants of a dream slip out of my mind, and I rub my eyes repeatedly before fully opening them. My hearts starts pounding when I realize I'm nowhere near a familiar place, the ceiling isn't falling apart and my father's narcotized body is nowhere in sight. The unfamiliar scent clinging to the blankets covering me and my body sinking slightly with each movement I make is enough for me to realize that I've slept on something different than a paper thin mattress on the floor. My breath hitches in my throat before worry takes over my entire being, desperately trying to remember where the hell I am and how I got here.

The buzzing noise suddenly stops, and I furrow my brows in confusion.

"What?" I hear a deep voice snap followed by a vague and muffled one. I press myself up on my elbows. "Well, I'm sort of busy right now, so fuck off," the deep voice growls, and I mentally slap myself across the face for not recognizing Axl's voice instantly.

Last night's events begin to slowly make their way into my consciousness. A small sleepy smile spreads across my face at the memory of the two of us watching British sitcoms and smoking on his balcony, but it's quickly wiped away when my mind wanders off to my father and the bar and the smashed glass of whiskey. A headache begins to form right above my eyes and I feel the fresh tears pricking at my eyes.

Fuck no! I've wasted too many tears on him, he ain't worth it! my mind screams at me and I comply without a second thought, furiously wiping my eyes and sucking in a sharp breath to prevent the tears from spilling.

Seconds later Axl appears in the doorway of his living room, a Thin Lizzy shirt and ripped jeans covering his body, his strawberry blonde hair wet from a shower, I suppose. A smile spreads across his face once he notices my awakened self, and I manage to sit up completely without getting a head rush.

"Hi," he grins. "Did you sleep alright?"

I clear my throat before attempting to speak, "Like a rock," I say, my voice cracking from not being used for hours.

Axl nods. "Good. I believe my couch would like to take that as a compliment, so thank you on behalf of it," he points a finger to his couch. I let out a weak laugh and watch as he tries to put on socks while standing up, only to fail miserably when he stumbles over and almost hits his head on the coffee table. That causes me to double over in laughter and he soon joins me, obviously finding his own awkwardness humorous.

"Thank god, I'm not the only clumsy one here," I giggle, running my hands over my sweater from last night to smooth out the wrinkles. My ripped jeans are suffocating me after a whole night of sleeping in them.

"I'm totally not clumsy, I've just always had a hard time putting on socks," he quickly defends himself, crossing his arms over his chest with an amused pout.

"It is quite the task, I'll give you that."

He rolls his eyes and sticks his tongue out at me, his cheeks hollowing.

"How's your hand doing?" he asks, stepping closer to examine my hand which is still neatly wrapped in the thin white fabric. I look down as well, realizing I hadn't even given it any thought since it doesn't hurt or sting as badly as last night.

"It's great actually," I smile at him.

"It doesn't hurt?"

"No, not really. I'm fine, don't worry about me," I say, watching as his forest green eyes brighten before he speaks again.

"I made coffee if you'd like some," he says, sauntering off to his kitchen before stopping halfway there and turning back to me. "Or do you want to take a shower? You know where the bathroom is. There are towels in the cabinet under the sink."

A glance in the mirror won't even be necessary to know I look even worse than last night. He honestly deserves an award for keeping eye contact with someone as unattractive as I currently am. Therefore, a shower sounds beyond amazing.

"A shower sounds good," I smile.

"Alright, go ahead. Pretend you're home," he grins, spreading his arms out as if presenting the place to me once again. "Do you need to borrow some clothes?"

"No, no. I have extra clothes in my bac-" I stop mid-sentence when I don't see my backpack where I put it last night, my entire world practically crumbling before my eyes at the thought of having lost my most precious belongings. "Ha-have you seen it?"

"Seen what?" Axl furrows his brows and steps closer as I stand up in a hurry, continuing to search desperately for my beloved brown hand-crafted leather backpack. I've had it since I can remember, originally meant to be for school, but ultimately becoming my everyday lifesaver.

When I feel a warm hand resting on my shoulder, I whip my head around to see Axl standing right beside me with the worn-out accessory in his hand, a confused look on his face as he gives it to me. The sigh of relief that escapes my mouth must sound absolutely ridiculous, but I couldn't care less. It's still here, I haven't lost it.

"Where was it?" I ask frantically, clutching it to my chest, childishly scared he may snatch it out of my grip.

"I just put it over there," he points towards the doorframe, his damp hair cascading down his back and framing his well-structured face perfectly. "When you fell asleep last night I, uh... I laid you down and put a blanket over you to keep you warm, and then I moved your backpack over there. I don't really know why, I didn't think it'd be a big deal," he runs a hand through his hair, green eyes looking more and more concerned with each breath he takes.

The thought of him making sure I was warm during the night makes me blush. That is such a kind action. Frankly, he has been nothing but kind to me since we met in the alley last night. He hasn't yelled at me for being annoying yet, which worries me greatly.

I bite my bottom lip out of habit and nervousness. "Thank you," I say quietly, my voice slightly strained. I'm not quite sure what I'm specifically thanking him for this time, but it only seems suitable.

He merely nods, noticeably still confused by the current situation. I swear I would explain things if only I could. Sometimes the thoughts you carry around in your mind seem way too complicated to actually put into words, so you tend to just keep your mouth shut for obvious reasons. At least that's the way my mind works.

The clock on the wall shows it is just past 2:30 PM. I clear my throat, startling both of us in the otherwise silent apartment. "I-I should probably get going."

"But I made coffee," Axl says, an almost invisible hint of hurt flashing in his eyes, but it is quickly replaced by what seems to be hope. "You don't have to go yet, I seriously don't mind having you here."

"I appreciate everything you've done, I really do. More than you think. But I have to go now," I continue to keep my voice down as I begin walking towards his front door.

He follows right behind me, eventually grabbing a gentle hold of my arm to make me turn around to face him. "Why do you have to go?" he questions. I now notice him being slightly taller than me, but not by much.

"Please, don't hate me. I'm sorry, but something just came up, I completely forgot I need to be somewhere."

"What are you talking about? I thought you didn't have anywhere to go, Dakota," he raises his voice a bit and his hand loses it grip on my arm when I bend down to grab my overused pair of black converse, not bothering to put them on. My heart is beating rapidly, and I doubt he would understand if I tried to explain my current mood.

"I-I... It's complicated," I wrap my hand around the doorknob and turn it in a swift movement, pulling it open and stepping out into the dimly lit hallway with grey walls and cold tile floor under my socks-clad feet.

"But I made coffee," he tries again, the expression on his handsome face one of pure confusion and worry. My heart begins to ache for various reasons, a pang of guilt rushing through me when I realize it most likely seems to him that I'm crazy and ungrateful. I may be crazy, but ungrateful isn't suitable. My chest tightens tremendously with each staggered breath I take and my lungs seem to be gasping for air. I need to clear my head, I need a drink.

One last glance is exchanged between the two of us before I scurry down the stairs, my mind whirling at the speed of light and a certain sense of haziness dawning upon me with each unsteady step I take.