Nobody else touches me like you

By: L (adoropomodoro)

The flame from the small lighter that barely worked anymore lit up his face, allowing her to study his complexion for just a sly second before all that was left from the light was the glowing tip of the cigarette between his lips. She briefly touched her own lips, thinking back to earlier, when they were on his. Red coloured her cheeks lightly, but she had trouble figuring out exactly why. She came here only to watch the pathetic mess of a loser that she had decided to never talk to again, but while she stood there in the rain pressed against the corner of a building for some sort of protection from the weather, something resembling regret started to form in her mind. Alone, he looked lost and vulnerable. The blushing of shame replaced the one before it, and she lowered her eyes, not being able to stand the sight of him.

Why was he even outside at this hour, in the rain? Maybe he had nowhere to go. Maybe he was lonely, just as lonely as she suddenly felt. Maybe all he needed was a friend, and maybe she could try better to be that friend. Well, who was she kidding now, really? Yes, she was an awesome friend in general, but to him? He brought out only the worst in her. Still, she knew she couldn't be without that fool for too long.

She was torn from her thoughts when the light went on by the door of the house he was standing outside of. Elizabeta's eyes fixed onto the tall and slender figure who opened the door for Vlad. The light behind her made her features hard to distinguish, but she knew exactly who it was. Her breath caught in her throat and created a puff of condensation before her as she breathed out in frustration and whatever else she was feeling, the rain pouring down heavier as she watched him toss his cigarette in a puddle and walk in.

He fucking did it. He went back to her.

.

Everyone could see what they were to each other. Everyone but them of course. It wasn't unusual to find them both missing whenever they all convened, only to have them later return, shirts crumpled, hair in a smoothed-out mess.

"Tell me you want me," he teased with his lips against her neck, one particularly amazing evening. They hadn't argued at all yet today. Surely, he thought this would set ablaze a hellfire of rage from the brunette, but she just laughed airily and grabbed his hair, maybe a little bit too rough, to push his head farther down to her collarbones. He salvaged every kiss and every mark he could leave on her soft skin, to keep for rainy days and all the times he was convinced he hated her guts. Everyone needed reminders sometimes.

Her grip on his hair turned softer in comparison to his tightened grip on her waist. Closeness, they needed closeness. Faster, harder, more.

The cool midnight air around them didn't matter, even less than the bustling midnight city life beneath. She pushed him into the high enough railing in a passionate kiss on the lips, and he was thankful that he wasn't afraid of heights because she surely wasn't, and wouldn't care if he was either.

"Touch me like only you do."

"I wish I was the only one who did," he let his thoughts slip out, and immediately regretted it as she stopped, took a step back, and looked at him with a raised eyebrow.

"Tell me you didn't say that," she spat.

Vlad opened his mouth to respond, but no words came out. Her gaze turned colder, harsher, and he responded with the same, pushing himself off the fence he'd been leaning against, defying her emerald eyes.

"Whatever," he muttered as he started walking off, turning his back on her. This was not a fight he wanted to have now, or ever, and he cursed himself inwardly for not better controlling his tongue.

"Don't you dare walk away from me!"

Her voice was like a glass shard cutting through the midnight air, but he knew her well enough to hear the tint of desperation on it. He kept walking, but she didn't follow. Maybe this was the moment he'd been waiting for? The opportunity to leave, his escape route out of whatever twisted, undefined thing they had between them. She called after him again, but he was already entering the stairwell, making his way down the steps with swift, light footsteps. He felt good and chaotic, horrible and blissful. Stopping before the elevator doors on the next floor, he briefly met his own, hollow, gaze in the reflection as he waited for it to arrive. The fingers that he ran through his disheveled hair felt uncertain, clumsy, trembling. He picked up his phone as he entered the elevator, making sure to press the button that closed the doors. Elizabeta was nowhere to be seen in the stairwell as the doors slid closed in a soft whoosh.

Where u at man? Wanna hang?

He stared at the dots jumping around at the screen, waiting for the Frenchman's reply while casting a look at the numbers descending on the panel on the wall. The dots stopped and his phone purred in his hand.

Chez Natalya. What's up?

Vlad put his phone back into his jeans pocket and strode out of the elevator perhaps a little bit too hasty, signalling for a taxi outside the house before the door behind him had even closed. Rain had started trickling down from the darkening sky, and he found his mind wander to the brunette on the top of the roof, who by the looks of it was still there. He didn't want to talk to his ex about his ex, or whatever this weird constellation was at this point, but Francis knew what to do. Vlad had no clue.

Likely two more chapters - not even sure if anyone still reads, but it calms me to write this. Whoever ends up reading this, hope you enjoy!