Chapter twelve

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Just to clear things up because I wrote it in a really shitty way but I'm gonna go back and write it in, Azael isn't British but when his dad fled with Charlie, he was going to Britain so when they crashed he was closer to there and was buried there.

*****

I hadn't gotten drunk in awhile.

And I hadn't a clue why Azael had offered me to go to his home but, vodka...

I had to say yes.

My mother was out doing whatever it was what she did and Elliot was staying at a friends, so, instead of slipping through my window like I normally did, I actually used the front door for once.

I exited the house and headed down the driveway towards my car, to go and get drunk with the person I despised the most.

*****

I arrived at his house. No other cars were parked on his driveway besides his own, I observed, as I made my way towards his front door.

I hadn't met his mother but due to his mom also being gone the last time I was there, I assumed she must of worked late hours.

Loudly and impatiently, I knocked a few times on his door before stuffing my hands back into my pockets. The blazing sun had vanished long ago and all that was left was a chilling cold which had quickly managed to seep through the thin material of my jacket.

A few minutes later the door quickly swung open to reveal Azael standing before me, a bottle of vodka in hand and his dark hair scattered in messy waves across his forehead with the corner of his black shirt slightly raised to reveal the toned abs beneath.

I looked him up and down as he simply stared at me, leaning against his wall, looking completely out of it.

Sighing, I stepped in, taking the bottle of vodka from his hand and speaking,"You're drunk already?" I groaned.

At least I wouldn't have to deal with sober Azael.

He grabbed onto my shoulder and I let him guide me towards the direction that I presumed was going to be his bedroom.

"Yes, and I have been for..." He waited a moment, possibly thinking, as he continued dragging me along and I let him, before speaking his answer.

"Three hours? Two? I'm not sure," He mumbled.

I shuck my head as I brought the bottle to my lips and drank deeply.

We reached his room and stepped in as he closed the door and I took a seat on the right side of his bed.

I drank from the bottle again as I stretched out, hopefully he would be more tolerable due to the high amount of alcohol he had consumed. If not I'd leave.

"So, why am I here?" I questioned, as he lay down beside me and I passed the bottle back to him. The liquid inside loudly slushing with the movement.

He accepted, gulped down a large mouthful and traced his lips with his tongue before he passed it back to me.

"I was in need for a distraction." He stated simply.

I scoffed,"So you called me?" He nodded, yanking the bottle from out of my hands before I got a chance to swallow any more.

I noticed it then, the red splotches on his knuckles, the dried blood, "what the fuck Azael?" I said, as I grabbed his arm and pulled it towards me to see what the fuck had happened.

He rolled onto his back, placing his other arm on his brow, most likely to cover his eyes from the glow of his lights to reduce the head ache I really hoped he was having.

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