SUNSHINE ― billy butcher

eighteen

I SINCERELY THOUGHT IT WAS A DREAM.

I woke up, my head aching terribly like a bitch and my hair all over the goddamn place that when I finally reached in to fix it did I only notice that there's something heavy on my arms, stopping it—and all the parts of my body from even moving. Sincerely considering I was tied up in a bed and kidnapped if not for the warmth and familiar scent I could sniff through—and for the reality that's bound to bite my ass in the back again and again.

He was sleeping soundly while our bodies were tangled—and naked—and were covered merely by the sheets that for some reason was removed from the bed. I watched him though, this close in proximity while sinking in the fact that we did something we probably shouldn't have. It could've been solely the wine's fault for creating a tension between us last night that ended in something—I wanted to regret yet at the far back of my mind... it couldn't... it didn't want to regret it.

But I made it stay hidden from my consciousness. Finding my grasp beneath his strong arms that when I thought I finally made it out of the maze did he only pull me back closer to his warmth my heart nearly jumped and made a run for it. "It's too fuckin' early, Alice. Sleep." I squirmed from where I lay. My chest deliberately pounding I wonder if he could hear it.

But then he decided to bury his face on my shoulder, all my hairs raising up as he did I was certain I sealed my death warrant last night. Because Billy fucking Butcher will be the death of me.

It was—a mess. I was a mess.

I was in hell of it all. "Butcher—"

"Just sleep, Alicia." He says exasperatedly, his breath causing more hairs from my arm to raise, as if using my real name would suddenly make it all the more better. If he could only see, I'm near bursting, but in a very bad way. "You look stupid fuckin' breathin' like that." He finally opened his eyes to goad on me that I rolled my eyes and slammed his chest with my fist. Yet he still stayed within his comfy position of hugging me as if we've been doing it for years.

"We shouldn't be doing this."

"It's already done, I'm afraid so."

"You shouldn't be hugging me."

"Well, tough shit."

"Why the hell are you so fucking cool with it?" I kicked off his leg that he laughed and spared me a glance before finally untangling his arms and leg with me, leaning his back against the headboard and reaching down to retrieve his pack of cigarettes. He offered me one which I was not in the place to refuse when I sit up covered in a pillow, lit it up and inhaled almost instantly.

"Should we be shaking our hands off to never speak of it again or what?" I blew out a smoke and suggested. Figuring it would've been best to forget all about it since, well, things aren't so good between our lives. Things are still left opened, there's still much to heal, and I felt Butcher was not close to closure of it all.

"You don't wanna speak of it again?" I darted my eyes over him as he did with mine. A long staring competition that fluttered my chest into making me do something about it again when I looked away and pushed myself back.

It felt so wrong. And so dreadfully right. "Y-Yeah." I urged myself to say even if it didn't sit right with me. Making my stomach churn in all the wrong places that I crushed the cigarette on the ash tray and stood up. Brushing my hair away and fumbling around my clothes on the floor. Ignoring a lingering stare over me that I entered the bathroom with no other words.

"Alice." He called before I turned to knob for the shower. Bolting inside the bathroom I dumbly forgot to lock and clinging on luck when I was covered by the shower curtain.