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New Year's Day was always an odd day. The start of a new year, a chance to make new promises to oneself and then break those promises by February.
But it was also the day that everyone in London - perhaps the entire United Kingdom - was utterly useless because they were mostly hungover.
That included Sophie Baek. She had left her bedroom, head pounding and her flat a mess. If makes sense; after all, she looked and felt a mess. Her dark hair was in a tangle and her mouth was dry and her head hurt.
There was glitter and confetti on the floor after the party. Decorations and balloons all over the place. Bottles and plastic cups all over the sideboards, coffee table, bookshelves.
It was a successful party and if she wasn't half dead and half heartbroken, Sophie might congratulate herself on throwing a brilliant New Year's Eve gathering.
“Okay, Baek. Let's do this.” She whispered to herself.
She put on her slippers and began picking up bottles, gathering them onto the dining table. Every clink of glass made her head hurt even more. And as she gathers and groups, she thinks. A dangerous thing.
She did not expect him to stay. After all, she never did. It was a purely pragmatic affair. She liked sex, he liked sex. But there was that part of her, that ached for him to be there when she woke up in the morning, to linger. Why did she think that New Year's Eve would be different.
Sometimes she wondered if she and Benedict only worked at parties. Under the cover of darkness and alcohol and bedsheets at the end of the night. But New Year's Eve had been different. The party is a bit of a blur. She remembers a round of UNO and Kate standing on the table as she was given four more cards. The wild cocktail combinations that Will cooked up, and that Sophie loved (and that were the reason for hers and at least fifteen other people's hangovers this new year).
She remembers Benedict. When everyone else filed out of the flat around one and they were alone. They slow danced to nothing before he carried her to bed, his eyes warm and his kisses slow.
Maybe it meant more to her than it should have.
But she did not notice the front door opens and she hears the rustle of shopping bags and looks up from her collection of bottles on the table and is surprised to see Benedict.
“Right, I picked up more bin bags, some carpet cleaner - actually a few carpet cleaners - and other bits… Thank fuck the Co-op was open.” Benedict was saying as he placed her spare set of keys in the right bowl on the sideboard and even takes off his shoes.
Sophie stared at him, her eyes wide. It was as though he had popped out of her brain. But given that superpowers were not in the question, it seemed that Benedict Bridgerton was in her flat. In the daytime. He had stayed.
“You're here.”
“Well, yeah.” Benedict said with a shrug, as though to ask her where else he would be.
Sophie watched as he moved to the kitchen section, unpacking the bags of cleaning stuff and then a box of pastries from the Gail's nearby. He fills up the jug for the coffee machine and gets on brewing before separating bags.
“You are still here.” Sophie repeated, louder.
Benedict frowned, stopping his tearing away of bags. “I-well, you asked me to stay.”
“I did?”
“Yeah.” Benedict puts his hand on his hips, “Honestly, quite hurt that you don't remember. Great first few hours of the year.” He chuckled.
Sophie can't help but smile when he does and Benedict slowly approached her, taking her hands in his.
“I didn't think you would stay.” Sophie whispered, a lump in her throat. She's so hungover she wants to cry.
“Frankly, I wish I had asked you stay before. You always leave before I can or when I'm asleep.” Benedict wraps his arms around her waist to pull her close.
Sophie huffs quietly but she smiles, “Some of us have to work for a living.” she says quietly.
“At four in the morning?”
“…I have demanding clients?”
Benedict smiles at ber, shaking his head and Sophie has a small recollection of whispered words against sweaty skin as she lets sleep take her. Not an exact memory but more the feeling, the warmth felt.
Benedict hugs her, tucking her head under his chin, “Sorry for not asking you to stay first.”
“Sorry.” She says into his chest. Her head fucking kills and her hair is greasy and she's so hungry but Benedict is holding her, smelling a little like her body wash and the morning. It's so right.
“You're hungover and hungry, I think a little confusion is allowed.” Benedict said, pressing a kiss to her head.
“Thank you.” Sophie chuckles, looking up at him, “I'm a mess. This place is a mess..”
“We can deal with that.” Benedict presses a quick kiss to her lips and then picks up a few of the bottles from the dining table, “Now, I'm thinking coffee before we break out the hoover.”
“Oh definitely.”
The pounding in her head is there, but the heartache is gone.