Duncan x Reader

Chapter 4: We need to talk

Trent tosses his keys into the small ceramic bowl on the kitchen counter. The metallic clang rings out around the apartment, echoing back at him from empty corners and windowed walls. There's a numbness in his chest that he can't seem to shake when he pads to the fridge and yanks it open. For a minute he just stands there, listening to the buzz of the fridge and the gurgling of his stomach, but he closes it again without taking anything out. The buzzing of his phone rocks him out of his daze, causing him to drift back to the counter. It's a text message. The new one adds to a notification bar of more until the whole screen is burning bright with a near-constant stream of messages.
From: Gwen :3
"Owen ate your lunch."
From: Gwen :3
"... Are you coming back?"
From: Gwen :3
"I'm assuming that's a no."
From: Gwen :3
"Can we talk?"
From: Gwen :3
"You can't just kiss someone like that and leave..."
From: Gwen :3
"Are you okay?"
From: Gwen :3
"I'm getting worried."
From: Gwen :3
"Trent..."
From: Gwen :3
"I'm not doing this. I'm coming over."

Trent sighs. The last message had been delivered only twenty minutes ago, which gave him about five more before he had an irate redhead banging on his door. He could pretend not to be in, could turn off all the lights and hide in his bedroom with the blinds shut, but Trent has never been a coward. Busying about the kitchen, he pulls two cups from the stand in the corner and flicks on the kettle. He puts sugar in one, keeps the other black, and waits, hands splayed on the counter, for the water to boil. There's something bubbling in his chest as he imagines Gwen, somewhere, making her way slowly to his apartment. It's a new sensation, one that threatens to burn his chest and constrict his throat, but it's not all bad. He swallows, pushing down the faint slither of excitement that worms its way through him as he pictures swinging his door open to see his best friend, the woman he'd learned tasted like honeydew and cream, the woman he'd cheated on his girlfriend with...
The kettle boils, snapping him from his spiral. Pouring out the water, he fills both cups and stirs, letting his eyes drift to the door of his apartment. Any minute now, the bell will ring, or knuckles will rap against the door and— His phone vibrates.
From: Gwen :3
"It's late, let me in so I don't have to wake up the whole building knocking."
Trent gets to his feet too quickly, called to the door and the promise of Gwen. The pull is too great for him to refuse, so he doesn't. Almost tugging the door off its hinges, he has to tense his shoulders to stop himself lunging at the woman in front of him.
Gwen's grin flattens as soon as she lays eyes on Trent. She reaches out, not giving the other man time to react as she wraps an arm around his neck and pulls him in, forcing him against her chest. "You've been crying," she mumbles against his shirt, thankful that her lips meet material and not skin. She'd come over intent on starting an argument, or at least shouting a little, but the sight of Trent, puffy-eyed and lost, looking at her like she's the only thing that makes sense in his world, shatters those plans.

A strangled sob wriggles up Trent's throat as Gwen fastens her arms around him and gently urges him back into the apartment. "I..." He swallows, feeling the pressure of the last few weeks wash over him, weakening his resolve. "I made tea."
Blowing air out of her nose, Gwen nuzzles against the man, savoring his warmth before pulling back. "Of course you did." Unraveling Trent from her body, she lets her hand slide from neck to shoulder to elbow, until eventually, she takes him by the hand. A breath of relief rises in her throat when Trent's fingers entwine with her own and she's allowed to kick the door shut and lead him away, towards the kitchen and the cups of tea steadily cooling on the counter. She tries not to think about the callouses scratching her skin, shoves away the thought of those hands on her body, tangled in her hair.
"I..."
"Sit," Gwen cuts him off before he can speak, shoving the cooling cup into his palms before pointing towards the back of the sofa. "Now." Trent doesn't even think about arguing. With the night drawing on, and the warmth of Gwen's hand on his palm slowly fading, he hasn't got the strength. He slinks off, rounding the front of the sofa before throwing himself back onto it with a soft thump.
A moment and a deep breath later, Gwen joins him. She perches, despite being more than familiar with the apartment, and shuffles awkwardly when Trent's knee touches hers. "You look like shit."
Trent scowls.
"What?" Gwen offers a small shrug, her eyes shining as she desperately tries to lighten the mood. "You do."
"You don't look much better..."
"I don't have eye bags."
"The skin around my eyes is thin – it's the—"
Gwen steals the sentence from his mouth with a smile. "The veins showing through, yeah. I know."
Trent huffs. Licking his lips, he swallows down his hesitance before grabbing Gwen by the back of her t-shirt and tugging her backwards. "Stop sitting on the sofa like you've never been invited in before."

"Fuck – watch out." Gwen slips back, almost splashing her tea down her front before she settles again. It's almost impossible to be unaware of Trent's arm still propped up along the back of the sofa, of his palm inches from the back of her neck, almost touching her skin. The realization makes her skin itch, makes her want to lean further back to feel Trent's warmth, but she doesn't. "You want to talk about it?"
"About what?" Trent grunts.
"About today—outside the café, you leaving..."
Trent lifts his arm from the back of the sofa, letting it fall back to his side. His jaw is clenched so tightly that he can feel his teeth shake, but without the tension in his mouth he knows he'll fall apart again. There's no point in hiding, he supposes. "I went to see her."
Gwen freezes up. Her shoulders tense around her ears. "Oh."
Trent's voice warbles when he speaks. "Duncan saw us out—. He saw us outside of the café. That's why he left... He went to go tell her."
"How... How did she react?" Shifting uncomfortably on the sofa, Gwen shifts further away. The tea is scalding in her palm, but the pain centers her, stops her from standing up and screaming. She can still taste Trent on her tongue, but with every sip of tea, it slips away. Part of her is thankful for that.
Trent laughs. A short burst of a noise rocks through his throat, making Gwen jump. "She fucked him."
"What?"
"I put my hand in..." He lifts his hand, recalling the sickening wetness on his fingers, but it's the blossoming purple that pulls his mind back from the brink of free fall. "Fuck – I hit him. I actually fucking..."
"Hey, hey..." Gwen abandons her cup on the coffee table in favor of scooting closer to Trent. She pauses for a second, hand hovering over the quaking mass of his shoulder before gently, setting her hand down. With a squeeze, she steadies him. "You actually hit Duncan?."
Nodding, Trent sets his own cup down and presents his hand. It's hard to ignore now. The skin on his knuckles is red and swollen, small grazes littering thick skin on top of the bone making them stand out stark against the tanned plain of his hand. "Yeah. Pretty hard."
Eyes raking over the injury, Gwen swallows. "You got a first aid kit?"
"I'm fine – it's—"
"Where is it?"
"Under the sink."
Pushing herself up from the sofa, she slips easily back into the kitchen and dips to rummage under the sink. She returns, first aid kit in hand, and sinks to her knees in front of Trent. "Hand."
Trent's breath catches in his throat. The sight of Gwen kneeling and nestled between his thighs makes something stir inside of him, something that threatens to make him forget the hell inside his skull. "Honestly, it's—"
"Hand." It's an order the second time it graces Gwen's lips. She pops open the kit, removing a small packet of antiseptic wipes before holding out her hand, waiting for Trent's.
Trent gives in. He presents his hand, letting it drop palm against palm into Gwen's. It only stings a little when she brushes the wipes across the cuts; what hurts more is the look in Gwen's eye as she works. It feels like being on a seesaw. There's a violence to the storm swirling in his chest that knocks him from heartbroken to smitten within a second and back again, but just as quick as he finds himself floating, the weight is taken straight from under him again. Just a few hours ago he'd been high on her voice, with her waist in his hands and anger on his tongue, but now... Now, his heart stutters when Gwen's fingers graze his. "I'm sorry."
"For what?" Gwen doesn't look up. She doesn't think she can.

"Everything..." Trent swallows his hesitance I'm fucking everything up.'

Gwen licks her lips. 'You don't know what you want.' Dropping the wipe, she reaches into the kit and removes a cream. Uncapping it, she smears it across Trent's skin. 'You don't know who you want. You love her, but you kissed me...' Shuffling back to her feet, Gwen forces a smile to her lips. 'But, until you figure out what that is... I don't think -'
Trent's heart hammers in his chest. With each step Gwen takes away from him his throat tightens, panic rising in his throat as the idea being left alone in the emptiness of his apartment with this weight in his stomach infests him. It hurts to think, to try and sort through the mess of the last few weeks, but with Gwen there, he thinks he might just be able to try. Stumbling to his feet, he crosses the room, reaching for Gwen's wrist and catching her before she can stray too close to the door. 'Stay...' He croaks, pulling the other towards him. Swallowing, he links their fingers. 'I - I don't know what the fuck is going on in my head, but I know I want you to stay.'

NSFW next chapter ^_^