Foolish Games

38. Did you have fun?

Joni stirred awake from his sleep, the light irritating his eyes which were already sensitive because of the hangover. His head was slightly pounding and he felt sweaty, it was too hot, and his rear hurt. He sighed and brought his hand to cover his eyes for a moment before carefully lifting it just to confirm what he already knew; last night hadn't been a dream.

Misha, whose back was turned against the offending bright sunlight, still slept soundly next to him. Joni chewed his lip looking at the man who looked so peaceful there, so handsome and... disturbingly cute. A sudden rush of panic swept through him then, what on earth had he been thinking? Apparently, not much, he thought as fear started gripping his throat; he didn't want to wake Misha.

What would Misha even think of him now? A brief rush of remorse, self-hatred... Misha knew he had a boyfriend... He had known it last night as well!- An inner voice reminded him. Joni kept chewing on his lower lip, confused, the fear inside kept growing.

Was there no way he could stay? He asked himself looking at the man once more. He wanted to stay and at the same time, he felt disgusted with himself when he thought about the possibility of telling Misha the truth. What if?... He might be disgusted as well... The chance was that... His heart was beating madly, this was bad.

For a moment he laid still, frozen almost, gazing at the blond next to him, he brought his hand close to his face, frantic thoughts running through his mind, knowing that he could not have created a greater mess than this.

He'd have to leave and save what still could be saved. Misha didn't deserve to be dragged into his mess. Nor would the man want to be dragged there! - Joni was quite sure.

He felt sudden tears in his eyes, and unable to help himself he leaned closer and planted a trembling kiss on the man's forehead, who shifted, murmured something in Russian, and a moment later smiled in his sleep, not waking. Sighing a bit relieved, Joni carefully and as quickly as possible attempted to leave the bed. He felt dirty, he was dirty, of cum and alcohol, sweat, lube... He grimaced, his heartbeat increased, and he tried desperately to calm himself but his mind kept nagging at him that if he didn't get out and hurry there'd be hell to pay!

He'd write a note to Misha, he decided and sneaked closer to the table trying to ignore the pain in his backside, his hands trembling as he reached for paper and pen.

"I'm sorry, it was a mistake, please understand...." He wrote and paused again, glancing at Misha, feeling the familiar weight setting on his shoulders, a lump rising in his throat, "... don't call me, don't message me. We can talk later, but let me be the one to contact you. –Joni-"

He set the note carefully on the pillow next to Misha, before collecting his boxers from the floor and pulling them on, then the rest of his clothes, deciding to use the nearest bathroom to try and clean himself as well as one could without using the shower; which would cause too much noise.

He sneaked downstairs quietly and checked the time; it was only a couple of minutes past nine. A couple was sleeping tangled and half naked on the living room couch – guess it had gone a bit wilder at the end of the evening, he thought to himself, not wanting to wake them.

He called a cab when he got outside, lost in his wildly running thoughts. The panic kept growing when he thought about the possibility of Chris finding out and part of him considered returning to Misha, telling him everything, and asking his help because he didn't know how to get free from Chris completely... But wouldn't Misha then think that he was weak and helpless, unable to defend himself? - It was hardly attractive.

Once seated in the taxi, he rested his head against the window, rubbing his forehead; What would happen if he went home, packed his bags, and just left? Could he? He didn't know, his head was aching and his emotions were a mess.