Butler ~COMPLETED~

Eight

*smut but it's not good*

I awoke the next morning, my eyes stinging. I whimpered, knuckling them. I stood up, the cold prickling my skin. I got back into bed, not feeling like braving the freezing floor. I heard Alexander playing downstairs. Finally, he has a name! From what i could hear, it was his own composition. I hugged my pillow, pulling the blanket he gave me close. It smelt of him, and i squealed, rubbing my face in it. I kicked my legs in the air, losing control.

"He smirked at me!" I squeaked. The music from downstairs stopped, and i held my breath.

"Elliott?" shit! I opened my door, poking my head out.

"Yes sir?"

"You wouldn't mind keeping it down a little, would you?"

"Sorry, sir." I closed the door again, my heart pounding. I picked up my sketchbook, blushing slightly as i frowned in concentration. I sat there for over three hours, and only when I'd scrawled my signature in the corner did i realise what I'd drawn. He was kissing me. I'd drawn him kissing me. How could I have done it by accident?! I stared at it for a while, my stomach erupting into butterflies. "Maybe I should tell him..." I hummed to myself. "But it's too unprofessional." I sighed, curling up under the duvet. I tossed and turned, think about him again and again. I tried to distract myself, but his face kept popping up in my thoughts. I traced the creases in the bedding, writing down some thoughts. Then I winced. I thought too much, my mind retuning to that Sunday night. I took a deep breath, refusing think about him anymore. But it was no use.

But he was my best friend. He helped me set up the coffee shop. He helped raise the money to get it started up. What went wrong with him? Or was it me? But... That night at the pub. I remember, he kept touching my thigh telling me he loved me. Did he really? Did he just use me?

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He pushed me aggressively to the wall, a scour on his lips and he dragged them on my neck.

"Michael, please stop."

He didn't say anything, like i had no voice. He tugged down my trousers, flipping me, my hands leaning on the wall.

"I don't want this."

He still ignored me, biting on my collarbone so hard he drew blood. I shook fearfully, tears streaming down my cheeks. He held me in place, his hands leaving bruises on my hips.

I tossed and turned in distress.

"Stop!" He pushed into me, and i could hardly hold myself up. It was so painful. The pain got worse and worse. I screamed, crying harder than i ever had before, begging with all my might for him to stop. I collapsed, my legs giving way. He looked down at me in disgust, his muscular, intimidating figure looming over me. He picked me up by the scruff of my neck, and slapped me around the face until my cheeks bled. Just like my father used to. He then dropped me, kicking me in the stomach multiple times. He paused, glaring at me, then kicking my head in.

I sat up, screaming and crying. I was on the floor, I'd fallen out of bed. I heard footsteps running up the stairs.        He burst through the door, a look of concern in his eyes.

"Elliott?" He bent down slowly, and i curled up, my knees to my chest. "What happened?"

"Nightmare." I whimpered, my voice cracking. I jolted slightly as he put his arm around me. "About Michael." Alexander rubbed my back, exhaling deeply.

"What he did was horrendous, and frankly I'm ashamed to be related to him. I wish i could have done something to stop him."

"It was worse than what actually happened. It was like when my father abused me when he found out about..." My voice trailed off.

"You didn't say anything about that." He sounded surprised. Well of course he would have been.

"It just seemed so real." I said pathetically. My knee began twitching nervously. "I don't know what to think anymore. He's messed me up."

"I wish i would've known about how close you were to him, i could have warned you."

"It's not your fault, sir." I sniffed.

"Please, call me Alexander." He smiled, and i blushed feverishly.

"A-Alexander, i really wish i would've listened to you when you said stay in." I sniffled, wiping my eyes.

"It's not your fault. I told you that before." He gently clasped my chin, guiding me to look at him. "You hear me?" I nodded, my face not able to go any redder. I tried to keep my eyes on his, but i kept glancing down at his soft looking lips. I could hear my heartbeat in my ears. I loosened the tension in my shoulders, uncurling.

"I hear you." I smiled shyly, clenching my legs together.

"Good." He stood back up. "Are you going be alright?"

"Should be. Thank you si- Alexander."

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But it wasn't alright. I had that same nightmare later on. I woke up again, screaming, at two am. Alexander then had to rush in again and calm me down. I awoke the next morning to find him dosing at the end of the bed. He must've been tired. He hadn't slept much, since he'd had to catch up on his work from when he had the flu. He looked so peaceful, and for once i didn't feel the slight intimidation i normally do when I'm around him. He stirred, his eyebrows furrrowing as he opened his eyes.

"M-m-morning, A-Alexander." Was i just watching him sleep?!

"Good morning." He yawned, stretching. "Did you end up sleeping at all?"

"Yes, a bit."

"Good." He stood up, turning to leave. "Let me know if you need anything."

"Okay."

How comes he lets me call him by his first name?