Nameless // h.s. au

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Nineteen

*Hunter*

The swish of the bottle has died down as the last of the vodka is swallowed. My lips are dry as I lay staring up at the ceiling with an unconscious Brit lying next to me.

My heart is pounding heavily in my chest with the numbness of the alcohol running through my blood and my eyes are heavy as the sirens sound outside in the city that never sleeps.

Dun-dun. Dun-dun. Dun-dun.

Five fingers tighten around the neck of the bottle as it tips dangerously back to spare the last few drops onto my tongue that still tastes like his lips.

He looks so beautiful when he sleeps. I could say hot or sexy or handsome- I could come up with a brainless response that so many have said before to inflate his ego. But he looks beautiful.

His eyes are closed just so and his lashes are long enough to fan out along his pale skin which you'd think would look a little drag queen, but in reality it just makes him just that much more beautiful.

His pink lips are pouted slightly, lips curling downwards as fatigue drags on his muscles. It's as if smiling made his lips hurt like walking twenty blocks in heels would make someone's feet hurt. Why does it hurt him to smile?

With the numbness still engulfing my judgment, my hand reaches up to brush a stray curl from his porcelain skin that's almost perfect but you can still see the small freckles here or there and the way that he's not completely smoothed around the edges.

The skin is warm under my fingers as they tuck the curl with the rest but quickly retract when the lashes that fan out along his cheeks flutter and green sleepy eyes open and his hand catches mine in its sluggish movements but it's not harsh.

"Sorry." I mutter, turning my burning cheeks away from his gaze and trying to pull my hand away.

"No don't be." His words should be sweet but his brow is creased and his lips are pouted, "Have you slept at all? What time is it?"

"Late. I'm sorry for waking you."

"Stop saying you're sorry." His eyes never leave mine and I just have to sit there and nod because how am I supposed to respond to that? He'll never say he's sorry so maybe it's compensation, "Come here." His arms wrap around my torso and pull me in further, the haze of half a bottle of vodka still cloaking that I'm naked in my boss's arms under my comforter. The same one I sleep under every night but now it feels...different.

My face is pressed against the crook of his neck, cheek warm against his skin as his eyes shut and his hand runs up and down my back. His eyes are closed but I know he's still awake because his hand still moves.

Up. Down. Up. Down. Up. Down.

Faltering in some places where he might doze off and his hands momentarily lose their place.

"You should try and sleep, you'll feel like shit tomorrow if you don't" I want to scream that I'll feel like shit anyway. That I'll feel hung-over even if I'm not when the sun rises. But right now I don't try to fix the mess. I let it rot in the sink like the Thai food covered plates that stunk up the apartment.

"I can't." I press my lips lightly to his collar bone as he still holds me close.

Up. Down. Up. Down. Up. Down.

A shiver runs across my skin, raising goose bumps and making me curl into him farther. My nipples becoming hard as the temperature drops.

When I look up green eyes are staring at me intensely.