King Von Imagines

One Early Morning

One Early Morning

Was it a knock that woke you? Whatever it was, you felt your mind and body waking up. Groaning, you rolled over and checked the time on your phone: 4:38. It was raining out and you watched your ceiling, shadows of the rain pelting against your window being cast above you. The room was silent except for the sound of the rain so you couldn't imagine what woke you up so suddenly. But then it came again.
   
         "What the..." You sat up, straining your ears to hear a thudding sound. Ripping the covers from your body, you swung your legs over and headed for your bedroom door. You were going to raise hell if it was your neighbor drunk and beating their fists against your shared wall again. Opening your bedroom door and standing in the middle of your living room, you listened again for the thudding.

          It sounded again but not from the wall that had your neighbor hidden on the other side. The thudding was coming from your front door. Rubbing your hands over your face and through your hair, you bit your lip, cursing to yourself. Throwing on your kimono robe, you stomped toward your front door, ready to tell whoever it was to screw off.

            Practically ripping the door from its hinges, you were prepared to act very un-lady like when Von fell into your chest. You barely caught him, glancing down quick enough to see how red his eyes were. The alcohol was emitting thickly from him. Half-disgusted, half-concerned, you reluctantly held onto him, bringing him further into your apartment.

        "Dayvon." You sternly called his name, dropping him on your couch. He rolled over before looking up at you through glazed eyes, "Solana." He laughed than burped, "Drunk and I still find my way back to you." Exhaling heavily, you sat down across from him, your lips pressed together.

              Von and you had split a month or so ago. His jealousy had finally taken its toll on your relationship and you had to end it before he ended every single friendship you had with a male companion. You hadn't seen him since the break-up but you were surely expecting this night to come sooner or later; when you'd be carrying his intoxicated self into your apartment.

         A minute later, Von's snores resonated throughout your home. You left him alone, letting him sleep it off. But you had to stay determined to get him out of here first thing in the morning or else you risked taking him back. You wished him showing up drunk at your doorstep at four in the morning would be reason enough for you to get rid of him but you really wanted him gone before he sobered up properly and tried to apologize. You couldn't trust your heart.

         The rest of the night you couldn't sleep, only tucked into your chair, watching the rain beat against your window as you went down memory lane. That was also a bad choice on your end; to think about all the happy times you had with Von. You were just setting yourself up to be let down again. Hours passed and soon the rain was replaced with a peach colored morning sky.

            Your muscles ached when you finally moved, having been stuck in that position for hours. Absentmindedly, you made your way to the kitchen, starting up a pot of coffee. Von wasn't the kind to get drunk and then sleep for the next 24 hours. His body always naturally woke up in time with the sun. It was something you were so accustomed to, or used to be accustomed to. He'd need coffee.

           Sure enough, just as the pot of coffee finished brewing, you heard a shuffling in the living room. Pouring some coffee into a mug, you carried it back to the living room, Von now in a sitting position, his head in his hands. You didn't say anything and just placed the mug on the table in front of him. He didn't look at you but thanked you as he took a sip.

         "No cream?" He asked, his voice hoarse. Crossing your arms over your chest, you inhaled sharply, "No need for it. I don't use it." It was your indirect way of reminding him that he didn't live here anymore and that the two of you were still broken up. Von took another sip, you could tell he was forcing himself to drink it black, then placed it back on the table. His eyes met yours.

      "Finish your coffee then leave." You instructed, not wanting to give him a chance to speak. Von frowned slightly, lowering his head again, "How long have I–."

     "Since four." You replied robotically, trying to remain emotionless. Von's fingers picked at each other, a tick of his, "Sorry." He mumbled. Pursing your lips, you turned your attention from him to your window, the city beginning to wake. The sound of Von taking another sip of the coffee caused you to close your eyes, being briefly pulled back to the mornings you two would have in bed while he drank his coffee and you would rest your head on his stomach, watching the sun rise with him.

       "How have you been?" His question yanks you back to the ugly present. No coffee with cream, no cuddling under warm covers. That was what used to be.

    "Dayvon, don't." You swallowed, trying to force the emotion from your voice but it failed.

   "You came here drunk and I couldn't just leave you out. But I don't have to let you stay." Von held the mug in his hands, the heat rising from it, not saying a word.

        "So please." You added, "Finish and leave." Von nodded, hesitantly standing up. The mug was still in his hands as he slowly approached you. When he reached you, you had to stay strong long enough to look him in the eyes. He cracked a small smile and handed you the mug, "Thanks."

              Reluctantly, you took the mug from him, careful not to touch his skin. In a way, you knew that taking this mug would be it. He'd listen to you and he'd leave, like you wanted, but you still felt yourself not wanting to take it from him, to force him to finish it all the way, to ask for another cup, to ask you to go to the store to buy creamer than crawl into bed with him. But you couldn't. You needed that mug.

          Von brushed by you, his shoulder barely meeting your own. You followed behind him. He reached the door, his hand on the handle then he turned to you. Your eyes danced across his features, already missing him before he was gone. With the other hand, he cupped your face, his thumb caressing your cheek. He mustered a smile but it was short-lived. Your cheek was cold when he dropped his hand. And then he left.

          You didn't know how long you stared at your door after he left but long enough for the coffee to be cold. It was like breaking bones to finally get your feet to move toward the kitchen. At your sink, you watched the coffee swirl around before seeping down your drain. You placed the mug to the side, your hand unknowingly shaking. To calm it, you brought it to your cheek where Von had touched. It was wet. You had been crying.

              Pressing your lips together, almost hard enough to draw blood, you wiped at your cheeks, drying away any sign of a broken heart. Exhaling sharply, you stilled your hands, walking back to your bedroom. Climbing back into bed, you stared at your ceiling. It was now a bright, clear yellow rather than shadows from rain patterns. You closed your eyes, promising yourself not to wake up if you heard another thud.