Akira

Jesus!

He looks as beautiful as always though his eyes are red and he's stumbling as if he couldn't stand straight. I get a whip of strong odour. My eyes narrows in confusion before I realise what it's.

He is drunk!

I swallow hard, averting my eye from his beautiful face, "You are drunk." I state.

He scowls at me, commenting famous drunk line, "No I'm not," wavering a little, when he makes a move forward, "Okay, maybe a little." Slurring, he shows a space between two fingers as if defining how much.

What does he want now?

I fold my arm around me protectively. I need it around him considering I feel utterly defenseless against him, "You can't be here." I speak in my most stern voice I could muster up but I know it still comes as breathless as I am feeling.

His lips form a spiteful smirk, "Why not? Is that fucker still here?" He ices, his eyes cutting through me.

What the hell is he talking about?

I open my mouth to voice my thought but he's already staggered himself inside like he owns it, looking about.

Closing the door shut, I spin around reaching him in two steps, "What do you think your doing?!" I raise my voice a little hoping a response from him.

He can't come here whenever he feels like it.

He opens door of my room and peeks inside, stumbling, searching around for god know what.

When he still doesn't responds me, I grab his arms pausing him. "Are you-"

He turns to me like a flash, grabbing back of my neck pulling me to him with blazing eyes, "Why did you leave with that café fucker?!" He grits out through clench teeth.

Alex?

Is he talking about him?

How does he even know him?

"Answer me dammit!" He bellows, yanking me further.

My temper flares at his demand.

What does he think of himself? Am I some sort of toy to him?

He has no right to ask me any question.

No way in hell after humiliating me.

Gaining my sense I pushed him away, rather harshly. He falters back almost falling but stops himself by door's handle, "That is none of your business!" I almost shout at him.

He doesn't say anything for few seconds, just stares at me like a lost kid, with his confused dazed gray orbs and I get time to inspect his appearance, he is still in same dress but it looks dirty and wrinkled.

I gasp a breath in shock when I notice his right knuckles are bloody and look pretty cracked up.

Oh hell.

It must be hurting.

As if on instinct I reach forward taking his hand on mine to check it. He stiffens but doesn't pull away, "Let me see it." I say calmly, my anger resolves at his aloofness.

I draw him to lean on me, without any resistant as I try to take him to bed. He is heavy and damn hard.

It's probably his muscles.

I roll my eyes at my inner self and her sweet imaginations.

I hear him grumble, "I don't like him."

Of course you don't.

Without thinking I snap, "Well then I don't like your girlfriend."

Saying it loud gives a weird taste and absolutely in bad way. I push the away the bad taste from my mouth.

"My girlfriend?" He barks out a husky laugh, causing the hairs of my neck stand up, "I don't do girlfriends babe." He breaths touching his nose to my jaw bones.

I cringe at his endearment, moving away as I hear his intake of breath, "I just fuck them and that too thoroughly." He finishes in same voice making me gulp hard.

I make a disgusted face before I answer, "I mean I don't like your that friend."

He stops me from moving and gazes in my eyes, "She is not mine and I don't like her too. She is a bitch anyway."

And you were having sex with her!

I don't say it aloud though, not that it's any of my business and continue to drag him toward bed.

But hearing him say she isn't his girlfriend somewhat unwind me and I can't tell if it's good sign or bad.

Pausing before my bed I make him sit on it but he doesn't release his hold my waist, "Let go King."

He snaps his eyes to me with a indecipherable look in it, "Don't call me that. Call me Romero." He almost whispers.

My eyes widen at his words.

Is he for real?

"B..but you've forbidden it." I sputter, still in shock.

"I like it when you call me Romero." This time he whispers like a small boy telling his secrets.

I want to ask then why did he yell at me other day. I want to shout at him. I want to cuss and beat him like hell. I want to be angry at him. I really do but I can't, not by the way he is gazing at me. It's impossible to do so when he staring me like I'm the most precious thing in his life.

Am I?

Don't be a fool, Ira!

My stupid heart still flutters at his word and my stomach still does a Summersault.

Why? I have no idea.

Do I want to find out? Hell no.

Its as terrifying to even feel it and I don't think I want to find its depth, yet but I cant say that I don't like it. I like it hell maybe I even love it. Its like I could forget our all past encounters and live in this moment.

I want time to stop and let me, us, feel this moment.

I know he is drunk and maybe that's why he is behaving like this and maybe once he is sober up he will become the King again but that doesn't mean I don't want to pretend its real, our real and is not what they say, drunken man speaks his heart.

But I can't really forget how he's treated me before and I sure as hell don't wanna play his game again.

I sigh, "Okay Romero. Let me get aid box to clean your wound." I tell him softly.

He looks in my eyes searching for something, once he finds it. He releases me slowly, trailing tingles from his touch.

Holding my breath, I swiftly walk inside bathroom slamming it behind me. I lean against it as I try to calm my pumping heart and rapid breath.

I can still feel the burning of his touch, the intensity of his grey orbs. Its too much of emotion. I close my eyes and count down from ten.

Stop it Ira!

You are more stronger than this.

Do not fall for it again!

Yes I'm stronger than this. I can't and won't be powerless against him.

Once I'm stable again, I open my eye with a new self-confidence before I take aid box and walk out of bathroom.

What I find has my jaws drop open slightly in awe and disbelief.

What the-

I certainly didn't expect this!

;-)