「 stray curls 」

nine.

「 I 」 NINE.

her parents were asleep, Morrison was only just beginning to sober up, and Marguerite was completely on edge.

he was sitting on the floor of her room, on the far side of her bed so he'd be concealed if her parents just happened to come in, wrapped up in one of her old blankets. he was a vision, the smallest he'd ever looked. his head peeked out of the bundle he had made himself, and she noticed the soft definition of his cheekbones, his rounded nose, his dark eyebrows made to match the curls on his head.

she had never seen anything like the dark-haired boy.

he looked up at her, his eyelashes fluttering lightly. "thanks, pretty girl."

instead of giving the soft, reassuring response she should've given, she asked him one of her curious questions: "why couldn't you go back home?"

he might not have been as drunk as he was when she'd found him on the street, but his lips were still loose. and beautifully defined. and likely stained with the whiskey he had forced into his system earlier that night. "strange, judgmental-ass family that thinks they know every-damn-thing about me." his voice lowered, and her heart began to break. "a rather idiotic father that thinks the bruises the public can't see don't count."

her heart was sinking. "is that why you went out?"

the look in his eyes as they focused on hers like they were his anchors was answer enough. "mother took the keys to my car because she was scared. she knows i'm a mess. she knew what i'd do if i went out." he took a shaky breath before continuing. "so i walked. went out the basement door and walked." he laughed, a sad sad laugh. "nothing keeps me away. nothing."

she could hardly stand it. and she gravitated to him. so she slipped out of the comforts of her bed to sit across from him on the floor, angled toward him as he let his back rest on the side of her mattress.

and they sat. it was a loud silence. his eyes were glassed over. he stared at nothing. she watched him stare at nothing.

without even looking her way, he spoke again. "just glad i called you, Marguerite. even if i was completely wasted when i did." he hesitated. "must've been a subconscious thing."

he never failed to raise her heart rate. she asked, "wasn't there anyone else you could've called?"

in response to this, he scoffed. "wouldn't have wanted to. people are too damn strange, Marguerite."

but not me, she supposed. that's not me.

her heart didn't have time to keep up with Morrison's actions because that's when he looked at her, really really looked, and she knew what he wanted, and she just...couldn't. how could she be expected to follow through when he was the most heart-stopping boy she'd ever encountered?

"don't know why i only call you pretty when i'm drunk, because you're gorgeous all the damn time."

it got so hard to breathe.

"people don't call me stuff like that," she answered, "never have. i...i can't even tell if i believe you."

his back rose from its resting place on the side of her bed. "you're shitting me, pretty girl."

it was near impossible to hold eye contact as his gaze gained intensity. "you're confusing me, Morrison."

"and isn't that a beautiful thing?"

yes. it really was. and it was getting harder and harder to maintain any distance from the boy with dark, sad eyes.

she pushed forward to let his knees touch her own. he was still watching her, eyes wanting.

and she'd be damned if such a boy, or anyone, had ever wanted her so purely before.

but therein lied the issue. she wasn't ready for him. couldn't be. she'd never experienced anything so real and raw and utterly ethereal before. she had no go-to motions, no pre-planned responses. so all she said was, "good night."

the transition back into the security of her bed was all too difficult. all she wanted was to be near him.

once she made it back to bed and turned out the lights, he finally answered.

"good night, Marguerite."

edited.

beta readers:
—jessy @originalverbivore
—elise @volatxlebxtch

NOTE FROM THE AUTHOR TO YOU: i remember this being one of my favorite chapters to write.

& there were some points i wanted to get across that i just couldn't articulate in the moment of writing it. doesn't make this chapter any less important.

so i'm really excited to get to work on the next draft of this one. hope you liked it too.

// kels