The Love Code (BoyxBoy)

The Letter

•Steven's POV•

''Damien,'' His name jumps from my lips before I even open my eyes.

I groan, sitting up. I can feel an aching headache coming on and I don't know if it's from all the alcohol I've been consuming or the fact that I'm fucking starving.

I open my eyes, confusion setting over me as I look around at my living room. The last thing I remember is being in Damien's penthouse.

Feeling sweat start to pool on my forehead I go to take my jacket off. Pulling at the sleeves of the jacket and taking it off of my body I examine it in my hands.

''Fuck,'' I say, staring at Damien's leather jacket in my hands. The memory of the car ride back to my house after I let myself fall into that bottle of whiskey invades my mind. ''Fuck, I fucked up,'' I mumble to myself.

I realized how serious that conversation was to him the moment we sat down at his dining room table and I told myself that no matter how much it hurt to stare into his ocean blue eyes I would be an adult and talk to him.

My stomach churns and I quickly turn towards the floor, knocking the jacket out of my lap as I throw up whatever it is that I ate last.

I groan knowing that I'm never going to hear the end of puking on her designer carpet. When my vision clears from the tears I've obtained while upchucking the contents in my stomach I notice that most of it landed in a pot.

Wow.

Mariana hasn't taken care of me while I was drunk since college. We both used to have a pretty nasty drinking habit back then, but ever since she kicked hers she acts as if she's this nun to drinking.

I really hate people who put themselves on a pedestal. I mean yeah, some people are generally better than others, but you don't have to be the type of person who flaunts your perfection in the face of people who have those flaws.

I reach down to get his jacket off of the floor. A piece of paper falls from the jacket, and I manage to grab it just before it falls into the pot.

I unfold the piece of paper, not stopping to think that it fell from his jacket so it's really none of my business.

-'For starters, just puke in the pot bro, she looks like the type to get pissed if you mess up her carpet. But anyway, you were at a celebration breakfast for work. You got plastered. Rule #2 Learn Your Lies. -Damien'-

My eyes gloss over with tears before I can stop them. Every part of me hopes Mariana isn't home because I can feel myself about to break down again.

Why does he keep leaving me these fucking notes?

Is this some type of sick game of his? To constantly remind me of being in that hotel room?

I had to wake up in that hotel room to a note.