A Person I Used To Know

Chapter thirty-one

Fuck, I hoped El was okay.

The thought of getting up and checking on him briefly crossed my mind but I didn't think Elliot would appreciate getting projectile vomited on at 4 in the morning.

I did need water, though, so maybe if I crawled to the kitchen to get it, I could crawl to Elliots room on the-

A tap sounded at my window. It was probably the wind, or, the food that I had eaten also had drugs in it and I was hallucinating.

When the tap repeated, louder and repeatedly, the latter became the most reasonable answer.

Until I heard him.

"Open your fucking window."

Why the fuck was he here?

I debated ignoring him, but I knew his nocks would get more insistent, so I gripped the edge of my bed and pulled myself up.

I stopped. He was going to see me like this, vulnerable and barely able to function.

Fuck it, he had already seen me throwing up before -had held my fucking hair back- I doubted him seeing me now would be much worse.

"So polite." I answered back to him as I opened my window.

Strong winds flooded into my room as it opened and immediately cooled my growing temperature. It felt like drinking cold water on a hot summers day and it was the best feeling I had felt since I was jolted awake from sleep due to that stupid fucking sickness.

His hair was all messed up, which gave me the impression that he had been asleep not long ago. Which also added to the question of why he had woken up and driven to my house.

"What are you doing here, Azael?" He stepped through and walked into my room as I tightly gripped the wall, still in the way of the blazing wind.

"Alleema told me you were sick." Alleema?

I couldn't tell if he was joking or was just genuinely an idiot.

"Alyssa,"

"Right."

I walked to my bed, willing strength to my legs to not collapse.

"You still haven't told me why you are here."

"I like seeing you suffer." He smiled down at me before disappearing out of my room.

"Ok then how did you know I was suffering?" I called after him. Only to be met with silence.

What the fuck, where was he going?

I couldn't fucking follow him either for gods sake so I sat and waited for him to return. If he returned. Who knew what he was doing.

There was a lot of rummaging around in the kitchen, glasses being moved, things placed on the counter, a switch turning on?

A laid back on my bed. Was the idiot really incapable of being quiet?

He came in not long later, a plate in hand and a tall glass of water.

On the plate was two pieces of golden buttered toast. He handed it me and I took it reluctantly. This was weird, it was really fucking weird.