(Untitled)
Gabriel slept well for the first time in ages. His arms were wrapped around Elle's waist, keeping her close to him. Between the alcohol and the physical exertion he found himself sleeping in much later than he normally ever would. But eventually the sun pouring into the room caused him to stir, his eyes opening slowly
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But she did sleep in her bed, sometimes. So when she woke up, she wasn't surprised. What was surprising was the overwhelming warmth of someone else, holding her to him close and tight.
Gabriel.
The memories washed over her as her eyes fluttered open, and that's when she panicked. How she had invited him over and cuddled and made out on the couch like teenagers, and those two beers that had made her silly enough to talk about him smiling.
She tried not to think about his mouth on her, how he had teased her and how she had teased him. How he came and how he had pulled her to him tight, just like they were now, and kissed her until they fell asleep.
Maybe she liked him, and she was realizing that now. Liked him for real. Like she hadn't liked someone since she was a naive little girl thinking some juvenile asshole could chase her demons away. That was dangerous.
She swallowed, wincing at the awful aftertaste of beer and morning breath, and turned her face into his neck, still groggy. "Morning," she murmured.
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Part of him just wanted to think maybe this time would be different. Another part of him thought he was stupid for even considering the possibility could happen.
But he kept those thoughts to himself, forcing out a small smile as he looked down at her. She was finally stirring and awake. "Morning," He mumured softly in response.
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Not him. Not friends. Not even that little imaginary puppy. She'd probably starve it by mistake, anyway.
She shifted, and untangled herself from him, even though she didn't want to move from his solid warmth. "I have to go to the bathroom," she said quietly, shivering at the cool air away from his body. It wasn't a lie. She did. "You can use my toothbrush if you want," she told him, padding across the room to the door.
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He grabbed his boxers as he got up, sliding them on. "Thank you," came his reply to her offer.
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She almost looked sad. Disappointed. But that was stupid. He should get out of her bed, and put his clothes on. They had their fun.
It was just fun. Maybe.
A little forcefully, she stuck the brush into her mouth, and reached for the knob again, twisting and half expecting to find him gone. It wouldn't have been the first time.
Maybe it would be the first time it hurt, though.
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"I'll be leaving shortly," He finally called out, his words a little less sure than he had planned them to be. He didn't really want to leave, honestly, but he knew it was best that he did.
Besides, he doubted she wanted him to stay around or anything like that anyways.
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She brushed her teeth mechanically, and leaned against the frame, trying to make her face blank. She wouldn't ask him to stay. She would rather cut herself than give up her pride.
But that didn't mean she didn't think about it.
She turned around to spit out the toothpaste and rinse out her mouth, choosing to not even answer his words, acknowledge them verbally. Maybe if she ignored them they wouldn't hurt so much.
She straightened and held out the blue piece of plastic. "Here," she said, and her heart beat a little quicker, because she wanted him to come over and take it. Wanted him closer.
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He almost volunteered to stay, or offer to at least but he closed his mouth, swallowing his words. He couldn't get them out, somehow. He couldn't say them. It's not he cared if she was hurt or anything.
He made his way back over to her as she offered the toothbrush. He reached out and took it from her, his pulse racing as his fingers brushed against hers. He couldn't resist letting them linger there for a moment. Just a moment.
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It's not like he could afford a girlfriend. It would be too risky. And if she knew about the truth of him, she'd probably be disgusted and he'd probably have to kill her to keep her silent so what was the point in getting attached in the first place?
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Men were dogs. Toys at best. None of them cared, and he clearly didn't either, did he? She had been through this before. So many times. They got what they wanted and they left. It was easier just to want one thing from them, too.
She wouldn't make him pretend it was something more. Ask him to stay when he didn't want to. He had said he was leaving, and he wouldn't be leaving if he didn't want to.
Elle swallowed thickly and walked into her room, grabbing up a pair of small, silky boxers shorts to pull on, and a t-shirt. She had work at the club tonight anyway. No reason to tie up her day.
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Women never wanted him the way he wanted them anyways.
Still, as he spit into the sink and headed back into the bedroom to find his shirt he found himself hesitating. He really didn't want to leave just yet.
"...If you want, we could get breakfast or something," He found himself awkwardly offering.
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"You want to have breakfast with me?" she asked, flatly, seriously. "Why?"
She cursed the tremor in her voice.
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"Because I like you," He continued, his tone softer, gentler, and a lot more vulnerable now. "That's why."
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