Enough for You

eighteen;

This chapter contains mature themes: 18+. Readers discretion is advised.
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I could feel his presence behind me, lingering at the bottom of stairs as he watches me make my way up, slowly following at a distance. The heat both of our bodies give off intertwine with each other making the air hot as we reach the top of the stairs.

Walking a tad faster now, trying to widen the space between us, he fastens his pace as well. Catching up to me and walking in synchronization, side by side, we look at each other with exaggerated wide eyes. Our shoes tap against the grey tiled flooring as we reach the end of the hallway, Fred positions himself against the doorframe as he pushes it inward, not taking his gaze off mine. He's not smiling but the softness deep in his eyes portrays otherwise.

I brush past him, entering the room I've only made myself comfortable in once before. 

It almost looks the same; a dim light hiding in the centre fireplace, broken floorboards, clothes strewn everywhere, solo cups laying about, and six empty bottles of liquor I've never heard of piled in the shape of a pyramid. The door slams behind me, snapping me out of my analysis and redirecting my attention to the ginger I just can't stay away from. 

Leaning with his back against the wood door, finishing off his cig, the smoke fogs up his face and diminishes as fast as it was created. 

"So. . ." I trail on, watching him use the nearest wood post as an ashtray, "Is this the part where you scold me for-"

"No." Fred interrupts as he crosses the room "Later. This is the part where I clean ur wound because dried blood is on your cheek."

Without another word he motions his head for me to follow him into the, now lit, bathroom. Before following him in, I practically rip off my heels and leave them there on the floor to collect later. My bruised feet touch the carpeted hardwood flooring and I instantly sigh with relief, quickly making my way to the area Fred disappeared into.

"Sit." he stays sternly as soon as I round the corner. 

"Geez, don't need to go about it so harsh." I bite back, walking over to where he stands with a wet cloth. I place both hands firmly on the countertop as I stand between that and his long torso, pushing up slowly to raise myself to his height and make my body lightly graze his, I plop back down onto the cool marble.

Fred huffs out a small breath as one of his hands holds my face steady, the other using the cloth to wipe off the blood around the cut. Trying his hardest to not meet my eyes, he concentrates on the wound and the wound only, only ever looking away to rinse the blood off the cloth.

"Don't you want to know how I got it?. . .the cut?" I ask, desperately trying to get him to look me in the eyes.

"How?" he asks, almost monotone.

"Funny story actually. I accidentally walked onto the dance floor and ran into Georges elbow." I laugh "Well I guess its actually not the funniest of a story once I think about it, kind of hurts really." Bringing a hand up to touch the area, Fred bats it away and pins it by my side as he continues cleaning it.

"Okay whats wrong with you today?"

Grabbing a significantly smaller cloth he presses it against my cheek as a stinging pain forms on my cheekbone. I suck in a breath as he disinfects the wound and casts a sealing spell, used on letter envelopes and in some cases wounds to patch up the skin without the use of stitches.

"All done. I don't know what you did with that dress tonight but I put some clothes beside the hamper if you want to change." he says, completely disregarding my question as he tears off his bandana and throws it beside the bin.