Chapter Text
My glasses cloud up as I enter the bar. Squinting, I take them off and clean them on the tip of my kashmir scarf. I put them back on, open my coat, unwrap my scarf, and scan the room, still squinting.
I immediately spot who I'm looking for, despite the smudged lenses. Sitting in the very corner of the small cellar barroom, dark hair strategically covering most of his face. He hasn't seen me yet in return – he's much too busy staring at his phone screen. Even from this distance, his glass-covered table sinks my heart.
I cross the room, keeping my head down, making sure not to make eye-contact with anyone else here. I could swear I feel eyes on me, but feel no need to confirm the suspicion. He glances up at me as I approach his table. His one visible eye widens when he processes who he's looking at. I scoot into his booth opposite him. He puts his phone down and stares into the wall, lips tightly pressed together. The silence between us is thick. I sigh deeply and he raises his shoulders in harmony.
"Are you okay?" I ask, making sure to keep any harsh edges out of my tone. At that, he dares look me in the eye again.
"I think so," he mumbles. I nod and try to smile.
"Good, I'm glad." He places the palm of his hand on his forehead and rests his head on it. It makes the corners of his raw skin peek out from under his silky locks. I wet my lips.
"What happened?" He wrinkles his nose slightly and shakes his head.
"Just couldn't sleep," he says.
"You could have woken me up." He grinds his teeth. My breathing feels hampered. The overwhelming warmth and the renewed silence between us fill my lungs more than anything else. I take off my too warm gloves and put them on the cleanest part of the table. The multitudinous empty and half-empty glasses don't leave much room.
"Are you high?" I ask, keeping my voice low. He quickly shakes his head. Then he closes his eyes and his breathing seems to stall for a few seconds.
"A little bit," he admits. "Not much anymore, though. It's been a few hours." I nod and swallow hard.
"Okay." I study my fingernails meticulously. "Did it help?" With a sigh, he slumps further over the table at the question.
"I—I don't know. What time is it even at this point?" he says, slurring the words slightly. I scoff.
"Can't you see that on your phone?" He stares at me and blinks several times before picking it up.
"Oh. Right." Then he stares at that for a good few seconds before letting it drop back onto the table with a loud clattering noise. He crosses his forearms on the table and rests his chin on them. I reach through the wall of glasses and gently put my hand on his arm.
"Don't you think we should be going home?" He looks at me like a sad puppy with his one uncovered eye. He sits back up and I begin to put my gloves on. I pause as he puts his lips around the straw of an unfinished drink. He drinks the rest in one go, then grabs another half-empty glass and throws back its contents. I have to breathe deeply as he repeats the motion a few times, until he finally stands and nods at me. He zips up his leather jacket, shoves his phone in the pocket, and hastily makes his way through the room. I trail behind him, struggling to keep up.
"Have you paid for all of that?" I ask, grabbing his elbow. He jerks his arm in front of him, forcing me to let go.
"It's on my tab." He waves once at the bartender as we pass and they nod back at him. I only just manage to wrap my scarf around my neck and button my coat before he pulls the door open. My glasses instantly get foggy again. I take them off just in time to see him stumble and slip on the stone staircase to street level. I dart forwards to help, but he's already caught himself with a hand on a stone step, cussing under his breath.
"Careful!" I hiss. I keep my free hand on his waist as we make our way up. When we reach the top, I clean my glasses again while he shudders.
"When the fuck did it get so cold?" he says through gritted teeth. I click my tongue.
"If all you're wearing is a jacket, you're going to feel cold. Is that so surprising?" He doesn't answer. I press my lips together and gesture for him to come along. He's about to adjust his hair when he winces and puts his hand back in his pocket. I didn't think my heart could sink any further, but it does. Instead of herding him along, I move to stand in front of him. Carefully calculating my every movement, I brush away the hair covering his face and tuck it behind his ear. He furrows his brow at me.
"Laurence—" I slide my fingers up the back of his head, angle his head down, and silence him with a kiss. He tastes like an entire brewery, but he seems to attempt to pucker his lips and return the kiss. I pull back after a few seconds and look up at him, making sure not to stare at his injury. He regards me with tears in his eyes. I clear my throat and take my gloves back off.
"You can borrow my gloves if you're so cold," I say. He exhales sharply despite the tears and smiles that crooked smile of his. Even now, my stomach turns fuzzy at the sight.
"I don't think I can fit your tiny gloves," he says. I roll my eyes.
"Fine. Then my tiny, freakishly warm hands will have to do." I pull his hand out of his pocket and wrap my fingers around his. How they got so cold already is beyond me.
"Let's get you home," I say.