Cherish had never been good at coping. She knew this. It had always been Len who'd held her together. But with Len gone, Cherish turned to the only coping mechanism she knew- denial. It was easy, simply pretend it hadn't happened; pretend he had...
Warning: Possible triggers.Mention of boys with questionable intentions doing what they do best when it come to girls with questionable sobriety. I'm beginning to think I should just warn you if the chapter is going to be an innocent one.
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As if dealing with Drunken-Cherish wasn't enough, the guys found themselves thoroughly unequipped to deal with Drunken-Paranoid-Emotional Mess-Cherish. She was singularly concerned with her sister and father finding out about her drinking escapades, and her concern was unhelpfully loud and resembled what they could only describe as what a goose would sound like crying.
It took more time than was necessary to sufficiently calm her, even after Seven pulled his truck up to the side of the building. But they did it, and were all a little less tense once they had managed to coax her into the truck. Somewhat sobered by the idea of going home, she chewed on her fingers while her head rested in Ian's lap. No one spoke during the drive to Seven's house and the silence combined with the gentle vibrations of the engine lulled her to sleep.
A short lived, but peaceful sleep- in the boys' opinion. Somewhere after the time they laid her on the couch and while they were clearing out the living room, she woke. At first she watched as they moved furniture and other such things out of the house, her eyes following them back and forth repeatedly. In a fleeting moment of terrifying clarity, she realised she was in a half empty house she didn't know, with three guys she didn't really know either.
She looked down at herself and groaned, her shirt was almost dried, but her red bra was visible right through it. It didn't help, either, that the shirt was twisted on her body and the hem was pushed up revealing most of her torso. As she tried to remember if she'd done anything stupid, she found she couldn't focus on the task long enough to come up with any sort of answer. She sat up, grinning when she felt her head spin, "Wee-hee-heee."
Seven who was carrying out the dining table glanced at her; his face turned instantly red and he spun his head away quickly.
"What?" she called after him, "You don't like?"
After fixing her shirt, she frowned with a mix of indignation and shame and stood. Her legs bent awkwardly as she took giant swooning steps, in her effort to follow Seven. Her laughing was accented by squeaking hiccoughs when she fell over her own feet and landed in a rumpled pile in the doorway.
"Whatcha doin?" she cooed to their feet as they passed her.
"Cleaning up."
"Whi-ie?"
Ian shook his head, "Because we don't want anything to break."
