youngblood | a.i.

eighty two || bloody valentine

Saturday, November 14th- 2:04 a.m.

Some of my worst panic attacks were products of random nighttime wake-up calls. Ever since I was a kid I relied on Lorazepam to calm me down when I'd wake up in that state, but never once when I was with him did I think to bring it with me.

Ash was my drug. He had the power to rush whatever hormone necessary in that moment through my bloodstream- to calm me, to initiate my fight or flight, to excite me, to bring me back to earth beside him, to wake me, to make me sleepy, to make me happy, to do anything I needed in that moment. My body could function normally without him, but it functioned purely by what he caused when I was within reach of him.

That's why when I randomly shot up in bed, out of a dead sleep, his touch immediately sent those necessary signals through my body to remind me that I was okay. As my panic leveled, I immediately felt the pounding in my head, making me bring my hands to cover my eyes and rub my temples.

"Angel?" his voice rang out beside me, making me lower my hand to see him. He was moving to sit up farther to match my body, his hand that had been wrapped around my stomach moving to rest on my thigh, rubbing back and forth to help calm me quicker. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing. Sorry for waking you," I whispered back, slowly closing my eyes as the added movement around me started overloading my senses.

"Hey, it's okay," he assured, leaning down to kiss my shoulder as he noticed my discomfort. "Do you have a headache?"

I nodded slowly, noticing how he spoke softer and quieter to my confirmation.

"There is Advil and water on the table for you," he whispered, letting go of me to support himself as he crawled over me to get it. "I'll get some for you."

"Is this a hangover headache? It doesn't feel like a hangover headache," I told him, continuing to hold my eyes shut.

I never remembered when I truly got drunk enough to get a real hangover after. I always blacked out and woke up with no recollection the next day. Today was one of those times.

"It's a hangover headache," he explained, bringing himself back to how he was before. I listened as he popped the cap off, pulling out two pills for me. "I tried to tell you you'd regret it but you're stubborn."

I felt his hand reach for mine softly, bringing it down flat to put the pills in my hand. I slowly opened my eyes and looked over to him, seeing his 'I told you so' look.

"How much did I drink?" I asked before throwing the pills into my mouth, taking the mason jar from him as he held it out.

"More than I've ever seen you drink," he responded, waiting for me to bring the glass back down to take it from me. "The bottle had maybe a handful of shot left in it."

I felt my eyebrows shoot up, having no recollection of the nightmare that had caused this hangover. He held out his hand, taking the glass from me. I laid back against the pillow again, feeling as he reached across me to set the glass back on the table.

"You don't remember it, do you?" he asked quietly, scooting back to lean against the headboard as I laid beside him. I shook my head as I closed my eyes again, hoping maybe the pounding would go away soon. "I didn't think you would. You were too far gone."

"How did I end up in bed with you, in your clothes, again?" I couldn't help but ask, laughing lightly below my breath at how easily I constantly folded.

I could feel him roll his eyes again. "Well, you fell asleep on the bathroom floor, and from the last time we fought over one bed, I remember neither of us being floor people."