The Under Boss's Ballerina [18+]

20

I woke up to Angelo's embrace.

He was holding me from behind, every inch of our skin pressed while my head rested in his forearm.

I've-

I've never woken up like this. I think to myself.

Or to this.

Either I'd find and empty bed or he'd wake up on an empty bed.

His other hand rhythmically massage my scalp and alternates between caressing my cheek and going back to massage my scalp.

I suppose he doesn't know that I am awake and I suppose he was still in that position, so I don't have a troubled slumber.

"Awake, tadpole?" He asks.

His voice coarse from the sleep but gentle nevertheless.

I place my hand over his to soundlessly tell him, I was wake.

I had one of those episode again last night. I think.

It drains me from the inside.

Just like the one I had the days after my birthday.

It drains me from the inside and then I wake up feeling heavy, disoriented, clueless and in need of severe reassurance.

I don't know what to do.

I could leave. I think.

It would cause more damage then good.

"Do you want breakfast?" Angelo asked, our fingers still intertwined, the olive green coverlet pulled up to our waist.

I meekly shake my head, reflecting the zero want of food on my part.

"You're loosing weight, Ariel." He stated, pulling our fingers away and making me turn to face him.

"You're not taking care of yourself." He declares pushing my messy hair away from my face.

I stare at his onyx orbs, while he caresses my cheek with his knuckles.

I want to take care of myself. I think mentally.

I want to.

I really want to.

"Stay here." He urges softly. "Let me get you breakfast."

I don't answer.

My silence bothers him.

Angelo sighs, untangling himself from my body as he gets out of the bed, maroon silk pajama bottom hanging from his hips, hair tousled, as he makes his way out of the bedroom.

From the bedside table I reach for my phone and unlock the screen.

Missed calls.

Roman.