Stolen First Times

31. Our First Fight

*Edited*

I woke up the next morning to the noises of hard core rock music blaring from my neighbor's open window. I groaned, getting up to walk over to my window. I pushed it up, shoved my head outside, and yelled, "Do you mind?"

"Not at all," came the slurred response of my shirtless boyfriend at six o'clock in the morning.

I watched as he grabbed a black shirt and threw it over his head as he bumped into the side of his bed. His legs crumpled underneath him and he sprawled across the floor.

I didn't think. I just acted.

I jumped across the space between our houses and landed inside his room. I rushed over to him, dropping to his side. I grasped his face in my hands, trying to force his eyes to mine. His green eyes were red and glossy as he looked around the room, but not at me. The shirt he had just put on was already soaked through with sweat.

"Shit, are you sick?" I asked, still trying to get him to look at me.

"It's all my fault," he slurred again.

I searched his eyes for any type of hint about what was happening. He suddenly grabbed the back of my neck and messily pressed his lips to mine.

I tasted something strange on his lips and I broke away. He made a noise in the back of his throat and tried to pull me back down to meet his lips.

Then I noticed the empty beer bottles underneath his bed.

"Are you drunk?" I yelled.

He raised a finger to my lips, finally looking at me. "Shh. I don't want us to turn out like my parents."

"I can't believe you're drunk!" I shouted again, standing up. Before he could stop me, I dashed out into the hallway and barged into Uriah's room. I looked all around, but he wasn't there. I ran back into the hallway to look for him when I knocked into something solid. Or rather someone.

My arms pinwheeled behind me as I stumbled back a step. Faster than I thought a drunk guy could move, Elijah shot his arms out and caught me, stopping me from falling.

"Ronnie, I'm sorry you had to see me like this," he said as his eyes locked on mine.

"Yeah, I'm sorry, too," I said, brusquely shoving past him. "Where's Uriah?" I asked, leaving him in the hall even though I knew he'd follow me back into his room.

Elijah shut the door behind him as I took a seat on his windowsill. He leaned heavily against the door and I tried not to notice as his shirt clung to his muscles.

"He had to go back to his father," he said. I frowned, genuinely upset that he was already gone. I needed him right now.

Elijah needed him more, though.

I sighed. "Eli, there's no reason for you to be this drunk so early in the morning. I know that you're upset about your parents right now, but-"

He pushed off the door and stalked over to me. He placed his hands on the window above my head and spat, "You don't know anything."

I gasped. That was harsh.

"You know what? You're right; I don't know anything. I do know one thing, though. You and I?" I said, pointing at the two of us, "We will never work out."

Then I twisted around and hopped in my room before he could see my tears fall. I slammed my window shut, muffling the sound of his obnoxious music.

Elijah was so complicated. I knew he drank because of that whole issue of his parents getting divorced being his fault and because his brother left for college. I was just trying to tell him that drinking wouldn't solve anything.

But he didn't want to hear it. I may have reacted with my emotions a little too quickly by telling him we could never work out. In reality, I probably just caused him even more pain. With that thought in mind, I realized that I was also being hard on him.

I had no idea what he was going through and I had no right to judge him.

So, I decided to jump back into his room. He narrowed his eyes on me and I grinned.

"You're going to have a terrible hangover," I said.

"You're making it worse," he grumbled, collapsing on his bed. I sat down beside him and grabbed his hand. He raised an eyebrow at me.

"Listen, I didn't mean what I said before about us never working out-"

"You weren't wrong, though," he interrupted me.

"What?"

He slid his hand out of mine and I could see that his eyes had cleared up. He wasn't drunk anymore.

He was perfectly fine and sober. He was conscious of everything he was about to say.

"I always end up ruining everything. You better run now before you realize I'm right. And don't look back," he said, meeting my eyes.

"What the hell are you talking about?" I asked as my heart started pounding in my chest.

"I'm no Cupid, Ronnie. I ruin relationships, not make them. You're better off with someone like my brother," he said, finally averting his gaze.

"So you're just gonna give up on us like that? You won't even give us a chance?" I questioned, incredulously.

"Yeah," came his short answer.

"Well, I don't give up so easily. You're stuck with me if you want to be or not-"

"I don't want to-"

"Too freaking bad, Eli. I'm here for you and I won't leave you alone so quickly. And you know why that is?"

He sighed, raking a hand through his hair. "Because you're a pest?"

"No. Because I love you," I said, throwing my arms around his neck. He stiffened before gently wrapping his arms around me, holding me tightly.

"I don't know what I'd do without you," he said, voice muffled against my hair.

I leaned back to look in his eyes. "The next time you feel like getting drunk, come to me."

He smirked. "I'll get drunk on your love."

"Our love."