"Luke. Lukas. You know... you know what I think?" the man beside me asked, jumbling his words together drunkenly. His small, black cap had fallen to the floor long ago, and I had gotten tired of picking it up for him after about his fourth topple. He was dangling off of his stool, one leg stretched out to touch his shoe to the tiled floor, the other wrapped around the chair's leg to somehow keep him grounded. He was leaning over the counter, head dipped to make his hair fall into his face, wheezing out a chorus of laughs before he even reached the joke.
"What?" I asked, unamused. I frowned, my chin resting in my hand as I gazed at my tanked, ah... "friend." Any answer at this point would have spurred him on, so I supposed his drunken babble was unavoidable.
"I think that—" he started laughing again, through his words. "—Peter should shave his eyebrows! They make him look like an old man, don't you think? Don't you think, Luke?"
I covered my mouth with my hand, unable to contain the weak smile tugging at my lips. It wasn't that he'd tickled my ribs with his comic wisdom—hell no—but Mathias was even more stupid when he was piss drunk and halfway to dropping to the ground. He was delighted, though, when I gave him a nod of agreement, no matter how much I didn't mean it, or frankly didn't care. He waved at the bartender for another round, sliding his glass out of the way. He still had half a glass of ale left, but apparently that was not going to satisfy him.
"That won't be necessary," I interrupted him, standing. "We were actually just about to leave."
Denmark lifted his head to shoot me a curious glance as I stuffed my wallet into my coat pocket. "But I'm not even buzzed yet, you jerk!"
"Nope, you're done." After quickly balancing my cap on my head and stuffing my hands into thick gloves, I moved to give Mathias a helping hand. He stumbled onto the floor, second foot hitting the tile with a loud crack, and reached out for something to grab onto in order to steady himself. Unfortunately, the closest thing was me, so he gripped me by the shoulders, shifting all of his weight onto my small body. Falling back into a stool myself, I got the man back onto flat feet and swung his black parka over his shoulders. It took him three tries to get his arms in the sleeves, but finally he turned to face me, hair ruffled and cheeks flushed with booze, to show off his grin.
I bent down to grab his hat once again, shaking my head.
Getting out onto the street without tripping into a snowbank was difficult enough, but hailing a cab while keeping Mathias from skipping out through traffic was a whole different ordeal. The bitingly frigid air had sobered him the slightest bit, so at least he wasn't asking to go back to the bar for another creative drinking game. Anything seemed more intriguing to the man than the taxi that was sloshing towards us, and I struggled to keep him from soaking his shoes in the snow, from pressing the crosswalk button, and from leaning too far into a nearby mailbox.
"Mathias—come on," I said, grabbing onto his arm. He seemed a tad steadier, although I wouldn't have called him graceful just yet. He loped along beside me, letting me half-lead, half-drag him to the yellow cab.
"Look, it's snowing!" Mathias said, astounded by the translucent crystals whizzing through the air and piling up on his shoulders.
"Yeah, I know. It's always snowing."
The interior of the car was well-heated, instantly relaxing me as I told the driver Mathias's address, and leaned back into the worn leather. Mathias hadn't bothered to scoot over at all from the original position I set him in, which had left just enough room for my little body to squeeze in without slamming myself in the side with the door. He seemed to be enjoying the warmth of the car—and my side—while staring out at the flurry of snowflakes that engulfed the town in whiteness.
"It's really nice, you know," he said, voice still slurred by alcohol. His breath smelled like a barrel of ale.
"What is?" I frowned. This may seem nice to him, snuggled up against me, but I had the door handle digging into my arm and a brawny Dane crushing me to dust. Mildly uncomfortable.
"This..." his voice trailed off into a sigh, the artificial warmth obviously getting to him. His eyelids began to droop, too heavy to be held up any longer.
"Don't you dare—"
Mathias rolled his head onto my too-close shoulder, ignoring my initial protest and the annoyed glances to follow. I squirmed underneath the irritating weight that was pinning me to the side door, leaning away from the heavy, damp breath in my ear. His hair, too long, too messy, brushed my neck and sent disruptive shivers down my spine. This man was so annoying. A stupid, agitating, troublesome...
A soft snore rattled my eardrum and gave me a sharp start.
"Idiot," I murmured, leaning my face as far away from his as possible. But his breath was melting the icy flakes on my shoulder, in my hair, warming my neck as much as the car's heat could. I stuck my hands out at the vent, toasting them in the dry, scrumptious hotness as it flowed across my skin and into my sleeves.
Glancing at Mathias's hands, softly laid in his lap, I wondered if they were still chilled from the outside air as much as mine had been. His fingers were almost curled closed, but remained loose as he dozed. It took a lot of strength to rip my hand away from the delicious heat, but I pulled it back and then slowly began to reach out towards him. His skin looked so soft, gentle despite the potential strength he held below his surface. My thumb brushed his, but the touch made Mathias stir, digging his nose deeper into my shoulder. What the hell am I doing? I thought to myself, surprised and flushing with a tint of pink in my cheeks. I made as if I was wiping the remains of a snowflake off of his hand, then returned to roasting my lukewarm fingers over the vent.
His hand was cold...
The car pulled to a halt in front of Mathias's cottage, and I scrambled to remember how to think in order to pay the fare. Mathias had a sweet, if too cozy, bungalow made of brown brick and pasty cement. The front "yard" was covered in inches upon inches of snow, some layers hardened to ice and others fluffy and inviting. While the neighbors all seemed to have pristine, untouched slabs of white as yards, this house's was patched with trails, a few forts, and a thousand boot-prints. The Dane wasn't one to care about the appearance of his yard, but would rather roll in the snow and actually make use of the land. A candle in a tall, one-story window cast a light on the irregular banks of snow to create odd, eerie shadows in the otherwise dark night. The streetlight was out again, or hadn't been turned on in order to save precious energy.
I nudged Mathias awake, shrugging my shoulder, and was instantly sorry for doing so. He inhaled sharply, surprised, and shot his head up as if he never realized that he was leaning on me. Seemed to really sober him up, at least. Nodding a quick thank-you to the driver, I dragged my large, blonde friend onto the sidewalk. He was still groggy and drunk, but tried not to show it in his movements. He started towards the front door on his own, myself following after to be sure he didn't slip on a dangerously-placed patch of ice and break his neck. He managed to get his keys out on his own, but needed my help to unlock the damn door. Our hands brushed when I grabbed the keys from his fumbling fingers, and his was much colder than mine.
The thought of grasping his hand and warming it up in my own definitely did not cross my mind, and my heart definitely didn't skip a beat.
"You're going to be so hungover tomorrow," I noted as we stumbled into the hallway. He was already kicking off his shoes on his own, which was a good sign.
"I'm fine, naturally," he replied, words still heavy and dripping with ale. He dropped his hat on the floor and stepped closer to the stairs. Once there, he just stared blankly at the steps, as if judging whether he could make it up them without tripping or falling asleep on the banister. I sighed, grabbed an arm to steady him, and led him up without a word.
When we arrived at his room, I walked right in with him. No reason to be shy, really, when he'd already invaded my personal space too many times tonight. After all the tipsy weight that had been pressed onto my back throughout the evening, Mathias's king-size bed was looking inviting and fluffy with its numerous wool and down comforters. If I could just rest for a few moments, that would be fine, and I would be on my way...
"You can't sleep in your jacket," I said, shaking my ridiculous thoughts away. I would never, of course, sleep in his bed. Having him napping on my shoulder was bad enough, but I could've just imagined all the hugging and grabbing he would do with more room. How unpleasant that would be, and waking up with him having such a terrible hangover would be torture. Speaking of hangovers, I would probably be sleeping in a little late tomorrow as well.
Mathias didn't seem to realize that the parka had to be shed, so I walked over, too close for my comfort, and helped him shrug out of it. My hands brushed his bare arms, too close, too close. Whatever words I was going to say got caught in my throat, being shoved around by my heart that was beating too rapidly in my chest. A few drinks could really do a number on me, I supposed. The rush was exhilarating, but obviously wrong. I stepped away and excused myself to his bathroom to splash some cold water on my face.
With water dripping off of my chin, I looked at myself in the mirror. My pale skin was flushed from the constant change in temperature from bitter wind to pleasant heat, the warmth just beginning to dry the wetness in my blonde locks. My hairpin, an elegantly simple silver cross, was falling out, so I fixed it up tightly to give my hands something to do. Once I steadied myself enough, I sighed, closed my eyes, and ventured back out into the room.
Mathias was standing not a foot from the doorway, leaning his head on the wall beside it. His jacket was still on the floor where he had dropped it, and he hadn't even made an attempt to take out some pajamas or begin to change his clothes. I took a step out, but he grabbed my arm.
"Lukas," he said, voice surprisingly clear and understandable. "Thank you." His eyes bore into mine, their colour like swift blue water over a stone riverbed, both burning intensely and softly gazing at me through his lashes. His hair had fallen into messy heaps, and yet it still looked so normal, a look so casual that only he could make it look good. His lips, for once, were not yanked upwards into a wild grin, but were parted ever so slightly, as if he'd forgotten about them and left them to position themselves on their own.
My blood rushed through my veins too quickly, my heart pulsing it to my fingertips so hard that they began to tingle. My chest, my neck, my cheeks were too warm, burning hotter than the taxi's heat had been, and with a sudden boost of courage from the drinks I'd had, I did something without another thought. Standing on my toes, leaning so close to Mathias's face, I brushed my lips against his. It was hardly even a kiss, just a slight touch of our lips, but his parted even more in shock. I pulled away and slouched back down to my flat feet before he could even recover himself enough to stop leaning on the wall, making my way across the room coolly without looking back. I was trying my best not to think at all, because if I did, I may have exploded into a million tiny fragments.
"Get some sleep, Mathias," I said as I walked out.
It was as I was closing his front door, licking the last taste of him off of my lips, that my skin flushed bright red from the tips of my ears to the base of my neck. Because it was that second that I remembered that I hadn't had a single drink all night, and had just kissed Mathias by my own will.
To be continued in chapter 2...