The Thing about Falling ✓

Twenty Eight • Breakfast at Elliot's

Athena

The morning sun stung my eyes and I shuffled under the covers. It smelled slightly woodsy and masculine; a scent I haven't smelled in years. After initially opening my eyes  awake, my head hurt upon every movement of my body. 

I felt like I've been hit by a bus.

My eyes were too sensitive to the light the huge, tall window from the side emitted and I closed them back again, only to hear someone chuckle in the background.

"Good morning to you too." he said richly as he laughed.

I struggled to open my eyes again and immediately saw a lean, standing figure with a towel wrapped around his waist, eating a waffle. His long, brown hair was hanging down and seemed to be slightly wet as his chest shone with smaller droplets of water. I grunted and groaned at the mere sight of him.

"What are you doing here?" I asked, my voice sounding raspier than normal. What did I even do last night? I'm so tired and yet, I don't seem to remember why.

Elliot stood straighter as he turned to me with his head cocked to the side. A smile was slowly taking shape on the lines of his mouth as he bit into his waffle once again.

"You should be asking that to yourself. You're in my apartment." he said as if it was the simplest thing in the world. I squinted at him as I rubbed my painful eyes.

"Why?"

He laughed, shaking his head subtly as he finished off his waffle and headed over to one side of his navy blue and white apartment, preparing something in his small kitchen. I waited for him to answer, watching him as he took some pans and preheated them up on his stove. Noticing that I have been watching, Elliot turned his head toward me and shrugged.

"You had too many sangrias, babe."

Elliot and I stayed quiet for a moment, letting the sound of sizzling and cracking fill the apartment, overwhelming the excruciating awkwardness I feel that I was the one who ended up knocked out instead of him.

He later stretched his arms sideways, pivoting his torso as he moved. Light sweat shone on his bare back as he turned to me and held up a pan.

"Want some eggs? I made some." he said with a kind smile.

"Okay." I barely whispered as I closed my eyes and merely laid down again on what I assume must be his bed. It smelled intoxicatingly like him.

Silence filled the gaps between our short exchanges of conversation and I let the sound of eggs crackling as they cooked take over my heavy mind. 

"You seem ecstatic to be here." he said, peering over to me a little with his addictive green eyes. I shot my eyes open again and rolled them at him as I slowly sat in bed, pressing my head against his walls with the covers up to my chest. 

"I don't even know why I'm here. How the hell did I manage to waltz through this place?" I asked in a frustrated tone. I seriously don't have a single clue how I ended up here. I'm not sure if I'm even near uni. More so, I don't even know if anyone's looking for me back there.

With one of the eggs done as Elliot transferred it onto a plate, he took the opportunity to rub his hands onto his bath towel and face me.

"You didn't. I took you here." he said like it was another thing that was so obvious and widely known. Elliot later turned back to the kitchen and continued cooking, returning the familiar crackling sound of eggs and breakfast.

I stayed quiet for a moment, coming into a realization of thousands upon thousands of possibilities that could've happened last night. My hurtful eyes widened at such realizations.