Let The Grass Grow (Leon x OC)

Chapter 8 - Beautiful

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first to love - maia friedman

call your girlfriend - mipso

coolest fucking bitch in town - hailey blais

sunflower, are you there? - dizzy, kevin garrett

left side - eloise

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It was well past two by the time Quinn woke to closed blinds and the malty smell of fish and chips.

She'd barely sat up in bed when Leon handed her a neon green sports drink and commanded her to drink it. All of it.

It didn't look tasty but the headache that threatened to cave her scalp in did not put her in a good position to argue. She unscrewed the cap and chugged.

As she drank, she watched with heavy-lidded eyes as he unearthed two dense styrofoam containers from a greasy takeaway bag. He was dressed. He must've been up for a while. Long enough, she presumed, to get take-out.

The logo embossed on the paper bag was that of a local fish and chip shop.  

He sat beside her in bed as they ate in silence. Michi had burrowed itself deep within the ivory sheets, poking its little blue-green head out at the smell of fried potato, nostrils flaring. Quinn fed it a chip.

"How are you feeling?" Leon eventually asked.

"Like hot garbage," she answered, venturing a look at her purple-haired friend. "Did I throw up on you last night?"

"A little."

She cringed, wishing she could sink into the mattress.

"It wasn't that bad," Leon shrugged, unfazed as he ate. This talk of stomach ejecta not hampering his appetite in the slightest.

"I'm sorry," Quinn said, "that's gross."

"Yeah," he conceded, dipping his fish into a puddle of tartare sauce. "It was. But it wasn't the grossest thing I've ever experienced."

"Well, that's something, at least..." She mumbled.

Her memory of the previous evening was hazy but relatively intact. She could recall drinking too much and dancing with Leon but what occurred after they left the pub was distant and dispassionate as though the memories belonged to someone else.

Clearly, Leon had managed to not get them lost while returning to the Inn, which was no small feat.

She looked down. Pajamas. Either she undressed herself or Leon had assisted her. Surely she would not have permitted the latter, not when she'd been so upset with him.

"That's right!" Quinn exclaimed, making her head pound harder. "I just remembered that I'm supposed to be mad at you."

Leon sighed. "I figured we'd get back around to this."

Whatever heat Quinn had felt toward her friend had dissipated overnight. In hindsight, she didn't want anything to do with the sandy-haired man in the leather jacket and probably would've been filled with self-loathing had she taken him up on his offer.