Bad Boy Chemistry

27. The Rooftop

Charlie's POV

This kiss was sweet and brief.

Even a few hours after Ryan had left to return to his room, I couldn't stop myself from smiling.

I had a boyfriend!

I couldn't get to sleep, not only because I was happy, like actually happy, but I was still worried about Ace.

I turned over in my bed, my smile subsiding as I looked over at Ace's belongings at the foot of his bed.

After contemplating wether or not I should snoop through his belongings, I hopped over to his bed and began to rifle through his things.

Just a bunch of black menswear and cigarette packets, not a single shred of evidence as to where he could possibly be.

I stood up on one leg and went back to my own bed, reaching for my phone.

Maybe he's posted something on social media?

I searched his name on Facebook: last post on his timeline was a spam link with over one hundred people tagged, and that was posted earlier this year.

I went onto Instagram and searched his name.

This is not creepy! Even though we are not yet on a follow-each-other-on-social-media basis. This is simply me being worried about him.

He posted something to his Insta story!

I clicked onto it, finding a picture of the night sky and the distant Eiffel Tower shimmering at the foot of the picture, posted twenty minutes ago.

After examining the picture again, I came to the realisation that it was taken from the roof of this hotel.

I grabbed my crutches and the key to the room and hastily made my way to the hallway. I closed the door shut behind me and headed towards the stairs. Unfortunately there is not an elevator that goes directly to the rooftop, which I find to be total bananas, but I guess the world does not revolve around me.

Four flights of stairs later, my arms were sore and I was out of breath. For a guy on crutches, I made it to the roof pretty quick.

I opened the door and looked around.

There he was, sitting on the ledge of the rooftop, casually taking swigs from a bottle of unidentified liquor.

My heart raced inside of my chest.

How do I approach him without jump scaring him.

"What do you want?" He asked as I slowly approached on my crutches.

"It's late, I was worried." I stated.

"Well, I'm fine. Go back to bed." He took another gulp of alcohol, followed by an exhausting sigh.

I took another step toward him and my right crutch seemed to have landed on something and slipped, causing me to fall backwards onto my buttocks.

"Ouch!" I seethed.

"Are you okay?" Ace turned around and quickly pulled himself from the ledge to help me up.

"Yeah." I looked down to see what my crutch had slipped on, and there was a rock.

Why is there a rock on a rooftop? I angrily thought to myself.

As he helped me up, I could smell the thickness of alcohol and cigarettes on him.

He helped me to a bench and sat down next to me. I looked into his eyes, and noticed that he'd been crying?

"Are you okay?" I asked, the sound of distant traffic vrooming by.

"I'm fine." His voice was sharp.

"You don't seem-"

"I said I'm fine! Just fuck off!" He spat, drinking some more alcohol.

My words got caught in my throat. I wanted to go, but part of me didn't want to leave him alone on a rooftop with alcohol.

"I'm not going anywhere."

"God, you're so annoying. You know that?" He stood up and walked over to where I had found him, resting his arms on the edge.

"So I've been told."

He pulled a pack of cigarettes out of the pocket of his jacket, putting one in his mouth and igniting it with a lighter.

I got onto my crutches and walked over to the ledge, keeping a bit of space between us.

Paris was beautiful in the day time, but it was even more exquisite at night. The city was alive, and the Eiffel Tower shimmered with lights. My breath lingered in the crisp night air.

"I'm sorry." He spoke softly, cigarette smoke streaming from his nostrils.

"It's okay." I kept my sights on the city.

I wish I could just live in Paris forever, or at least stay here long enough to get bored of it, though I doubt even those who have lived in Paris their entire lives would get bored of it.

Another few minutes of silence came.

"It's been a year today since I lost my best friend." He explained, taking a long drag of his cigarette.

"I'm sorry." I looked over at him.

"It's actually the reason I beat up that Robby kid."

"Oh?"

"He told the entire school Owen, my best friend, was gay. His parents hated it, kicked him out of the house. Everyone bullied him. He uh, even self harmed."

He wiped away a tear as it fell down his cheek. My heart was hurting. I couldn't imagine losing Ella or Clayton.

"He uh, he got wasted one night and crashed his car into a tree."

He pulled up the sleeve of his shirt and traced over the tattoo on his wrist.

"I'm so sorry."

Time seemed to slow down. His eyes were facing down at his tattoo. The tattoo he had gotten in honor of his best friend.

I slowly put my left hand onto his shoulder, attempting to comfort him. I expected him to nudge my hand away, but he didn't.

"Bet you think I'm pathetic, huh? Drunk crying in Paris." He sniffled.

"I think you're many things. Annoying, funny and cool. But i don't think that you're pathetic."

He was silent for a moment before he said. "You think I'm cool?"

I pushed his shoulder playfully.

"If you tell anyone I said that I will deny it." I laughed.