Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
alexa, play bad drugs by king kavalier
DAY 26
Amelia's drowsy eyes fluttered open slowly, wincing slightly from the bright sunlight that beamed through the windows, encasing her body that was entangled with James' on the living room couch. She rested in between his massive thighs, her left leg dangling over his right one, with her cheek pressed against his chest. The two must have passed out sometime during their movie night last night.
A smile crept onto her lips as she remembered their cuddles over shared popcorn and wine, her chin lifting gently so she could gaze up at his peaceful features that stirred softly during his slumber. His full lips mashed together into a thin line as he twisted his head towards her, his brow furrowing deeply as he began to awake.
James' bright blue eyes met hers. "Goodmorning."
The simpleness, the normalcy of the interaction was to blame for the words that blurted out of Amelia's mouth unthinkingly. "James, what are we doing?"
James could physically feel his shoulders falter at her question, exhaling shakily as he started to untangle himself from her, pushing himself into an upright sitting position on the couch. The conversation he feared the most had arrived, the labels conversation. He watched as her hazel eyes filled with longing as he removed her limbs from being wrapped around his torso, making him hate himself even more.
They couldn't be anything. James didn't care if it was unfair to him, but he certainly cared about how unfair it would be to Amelia. Perhaps it was unfair to start something with her to begin with, perhaps this entire ordeal had been one huge mistake.
"What do you mean?"
The emptiness quickly took the place of James against her body as he climbed off the sofa and strode into the kitchen carelessly. A jab of unease soared through her veins, into her chest, as she watched him walk away from her.
"This," she continued, trying as hard as she could to act like she was calm as she motioned between them with her hand. "What is this?"
"Don't do that."
The words made her feel like someone had just punched her in the stomach. The bile rose in her throat as she registered James' tone of voice. Amelia couldn't decide what made her angrier, the fact that she cared this much or the fact that she let herself feel this deeply about it at all.
"Don't do what?" she snapped in a weak voice.
"Bring up the labels talk," James waved it off with his hand, like it was an annoyance. "We don't have to do that."
"Shouldn't we, though?" Amelia asked, swallowing the vomit in her throat that kept rising the more she listened to his painful words. She hadn't even noticed that she had begun to pick at her cuticles.
"This isn't anything that needs to have a label."
Another punch - no, kick - to her already aching gut.
"Right," she agreed almost inaudibly as she swiftly rose from her seat on the cushion to grab the empty wine glass and popcorn bowl from the glass coffee table, walking them into the kitchen to place into the sink to begin washing. She couldn't just relax on the couch and listen to this any longer, she needed to do something to keep the traitor tears from welling in her eyes.
James saw right through her, though. He caught every twitch in her beautiful face, every flicker of sadness through her chestnut eyes, every moment she picked at her nails. It made him feel physically ill to do this to her, to make her feel this way, but he couldn't allow this to be labeled as anything more than just fun. He wasn't worth her unhappiness.
"We're having fun," James said carefully, trying to mend the conversation in anyway that he could.
"Hmm," Amelia hummed tentatively as she scrubbed at the popcorn bowl tirelessly, even though it was already clean. "Because you do that a lot."
What had she gotten herself into? Letting her walls down, her confidence that she prided herself on, letting it all just slip away for some fun with Bucky Barnes. Here she was, supposed to be fixing the poor guy, but instead she was acting like she was in college again. And to make it even worse, she cared way too much that he didn't want to label anything.
"I don't remember the last time that I've done anything like this. Or if I ever did," James explained, his tone growing softer as he observed her scrubbing the clean bowl like her life depended on it. "Do you understand where I'm going with this?"
"Yeah. You're convinced that you can't have anything good in your life because you'll forget it later," Amelia retorted quickly, dropping the bowl down into the sink with a loud crash as she turned off the water and wiped her hands on her jeans. "I understand perfectly."
"Amelia-"
"I'm going to go take a shower," she interrupted, turning on her heel to face him briefly before exhaling the deep breath she has sucked in.
"I didn't mean-"
"Please," she quipped in humiliation, putting her hands up defensively. "We don't have to talk about this anymore."
And with that, she stormed off to her room without another glance.
