He's drunk.
Again.
Lili hates it.
She hates how he bursts through the door, his motions heavy and unbalanced.
She hates how she always rushes forward when he falls.
She hates how he leans against her, whispering muggy invitations for her to do more than just help him.
She hates the excited shudder they send down her spine.
She hates how he presses sloppy kisses against her neck as she drags him towards bed, murmuring of love and want and need against her.
But, more than anything, Lili hates how Raivis never remembers a word of it come morning.
