Ennard X Ballora (November Rains)

Chapter 9 (Hangover)

Ballora ignored her phone that vibrated across the room. Foxy had been trying to call her all morning, but Ballora was too disappointed in him, to answer. She hadn't slept much the night before, looking up what alcohol was and its side effects: slowing down vital functions and keeping a person from thinking rationally, distorting their judgement. She worried mostly about the possibility of him dying from an overdose.

Although she kept an eye on him, her mind still lingered. She felt guilty for taking advantage of him. He only kissed her because his reasoning was awry—at least that's what Ballora had thought.

Ennard opened his eyes, instantly hissing as the sunlight seeped into his bloodshot eyes. His head pounded, his whole body hurt, and for some reason, his nose felt sore. As he sat up, his stomach churned, and his mouth watered. He quickly jumped out of bed and ran into what he had hoped was the bathroom. He folded over the toilet and released the bile that came up his throat.

Ennard panted, him wondering what exactly happened last night. The only thing he could remember were the words, It should have been you instead of Springtrap, in Foxy's voice. He spat in the bowl, trying to get rid of the taste of vomit. He slowly stood up, trying to keep from angering his stomach.

Ennard walked over and flipped on the lights, squinting. He looked up at his reflection and stared in shock—he looked horrific. There was dried up blood under his nose, which was swollen and green, clearly bruised. His face was pale, and there were dark bags under his eyes, despite him having unknowingly slept over twelve hours. He noticed purple smudged marks on his cheeks and lips.

"What happened?" Ennard muttered, his voice coming out hoarse.

"You were drunk," Ballora's voice came from beside him, and he looked over to see her standing in the doorway.

"You saw me drunk?" Ennard croaked, looking down at the sink shamefully.

"Come with me," Ballora cooed, carefully grabbing Ennard's arm as she flicked off the light.

Ballora ignored Ennard's tension as she led him back to bed. She sat him down and moved over to close the curtains. Ennard sighed, finally being able to see without his eyes stinging. She quickly walked out of the room, then returned with a few things in her hand.

"Here," she said as she handed Ennard a bottle of water. "Drink it. You're dehydrated."

Ennard gladly took it from her and started to gulp it down. Ballora turned around and walked into the bathroom. Ennard heard the water run, and he glanced over. Ballora walked back into the room with a bowl full of water and a washcloth. Ennard watched her set the bowl on the bedside table, then dip the washcloth in it, ringing it out after.

"Did I get in a fight?" Ennard wondered, and Ballora looked up at him.

"Mm- Not exactly," Ballora mumbled, and she gently wiped Ennard's nose.

"Ah," Ennard hissed as he jerked back.

"Sorry. I'll try to be more careful," Ballora murmured.

Ennard hesitantly leaned forward, and she carefully placed her hand on his cheek, dabbing at his nose. Ennard looked over, not wanting to accidentally meet her eyes. His cheeks heated up bashfully; Ballora had seen him in a vulnerable state. His eyes widened, and his gaze darted over at Ballora.

"I didn't hurt you, did I?" he blurted, gripping the hand that held his cheek.

Ballora held his gaze—she could see the worry in his eyes. Ballora gently shook her head. "Foxy . . . hit you."

"Foxy saw me?" Ennard gasped, loosening his grip on her.

"Only for a minute, then he stormed out, along with the others," Ballora replied.

"The rest too?" Ennard mumbled as he looked down.

"Stay still. I don't want to hurt you," Ballora said, and Ennard raised his head.

". . . Did I say something to him? I remember him saying, 'It should have been you instead of Springtrap,' " Ennard worried.

"No, I honestly don't know why he had lashed out at you like that," Ballora mused, her voice barely showing her anger.

Ennard opened his mouth to say something else, but he quickly shut it. He wanted to ask why he had lipstick on his face, but he worried that it may upset her. He took a chance anyways and looked up at Ballora.

"Why do I have lipstick on my face?" Ennard blurted.

Ballora blushed deeply and stared at the marks on his face, "Y-you don't remember anything from last night, do you?"

"I only remember what Foxy had said," Ennard replied.

"Mm," Ballora grunted, remembering Foxy's hurtful words. "You . . . You kissed me."

"I'm sorry," Ennard mumbled, blushing bashfully.

"I'm the one that should be sorry. You were vulnerable, and I took advantage of you," Ballora confessed, gently wiping the lipstick off his cheeks.

"How'd you do that?" Ennard wondered.

"I didn't pull away. You were too drunk to think, but I kissed you anyways. You didn't just take my lipstick off me and smear it on your cheeks," Ballora stammered.

"You kissed me back?" Ennard wondered as his eyes widened and his cheeks warmed up.

"Yeah," Ballora whispered shamefully. "I'm sorry."

"Ballora, I was thinking. I just wasn't thinking of the consequences," Ennard assured her.

Ballora looked up at him and met his gentle gaze. "What?"

"I wanted to kiss you. My drunkenness just gave me the courage to do it," Ennard admitted.

The two held each other's gaze. Ballora quickly glanced down at his lips, then looked back up into his eyes. He wasn't drunk now, just a bit hungover, but he was clearly in control of his words. The ringing of the home phone broke their moment. Ballora looked over at the phone, it was Foxy, of course. She looked back over at Ennard, to see that he had already lain back down, his bottle of water hanging from his hand.