All the Aches in the World

Chapter 9 : Heartbeat

He didn't think his heart rate had calmed in the hours spent driving to La Armonía, their time there, and back. There was more than one occasion where he had to check his pulse, steady his breathing, blink himself back to the present. And upon finding that there was no issue, Hunter would simply grit his teeth and bare it.

Is this what the next year of my life is going to be like? He asked himself, pulling down the dark road to the Charles' estate. Elliot hadn't said a word their entire ride back to the house, his head tipped against the window, eyes staring out into the night passing them by. Hunter would look over every few minutes, to check he was still awake, still breathing. His fingers clutched the wheel anxiously.

He pulled up to the house, parking the car. Elliot rolled his head to the side before huffing and reaching to open his door.

"Go pack a bag."

The brunet paused. "Excuse me?" He turned to blink over at Hunter.

"Pack a bag and meet me back here."

Elliot shook his head, curls falling over his forehead. "I don't think so."

Hunter raised a brow. "You're going to be living with me from now on."

"I never agreed to that."

"It's part of the ruse we have to uphold." Hunter paused, tipping his head forward to better see Elliot's face in the shadows. "Or do you want people to learn of this facade before we even start?"

Elliot didn't say anything. Barely took a breath.

"Are you having second thoughts?" The question was softer this time. Hunter's fingers gripped tight to the wheel.

"No!" Elliot burst, blinking oddly. "I mean...this is all happening really fast. And." He swallowed hard, hand coming up to brush through his hair, almost missing his head entirely. "I think I had too much to drink."

Hunter watched him open the door. "Can you walk?"

"I'm fine," Elliot mumbled. He tried to get out of the car, one foot at a time, but he still stumbled into a standing position, grip tight on the doorframe. An arm slid around his waist and Hunter was immediately there with a dark look in his eyes.

"You are not fine."

"I am," Elliot huffed, "now get off me."

Something close to a snort escaped Hunter. "You're the one hanging onto me."

And he was, hand latched onto Hunter's shoulder, he had let go of the door, gripping Hunter's forearm with the other. He barely even knew what he was doing, that much was apparent. The dazed look in his eyes, Hunter wondered if he would even remember this by morning. The blond huffed, shifting the weight at his side and made their way into the house. He considered just throwing the shorter over his shoulder, rather than half dragging him up the stairs to confront whoever would answer the door for them. But considering Elliot's slight muttering beneath his breath, completely incoherent, Hunter didn't want to risk infuriating the man in this state.

Thankfully someone must have seen them stumbling up the front steps since the door swung open and an older man greeted them with a bow of his head. Hunter returned the gesture.

"Can you point me in the direction of his room?" Hunter asked softly. Elliot's head swung up, but he didn't seem to acknowledge anything going on.

The man nodded and gave him clear instructions up the main staircase. Hunter followed dutily, about to drag Elliot up the stairs when he decided otherwise.

Screw infuriating the drunk man.

He suddenly bent and hauled Elliot over his shoulder, his body like a rag doll, and much lighter than he had first anticipated. This would be easier, navigating through the quiet house without the possibility of Elliot falling over every five steps. God forbid he fell down the stairs on Hunter's watch. The man let out a dragging breath, counting the doors on the second floor until he got to Elliot's. Half ajar, and already Hunter was hit with the smell of the brunet. It had dulled in the last few hours, masked over by the alcohol clinging to him like a second skin. But this, the smell of his bedroom, of him, was suddenly so overwhelming.