Cloud Nine

12.

a quick author's note- The dog's name has been changed to Levi since I just couldn't picture Diesel as a golden retriever, the breed desired for this story, you'll see along. Apologies for the inconvenience, happy reading xx

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"Lev, man" I grumble as I feel his drool all over my neck, he is still breathing heavily and snoring as he sleeps in the same position he had laid down on me earlier. I don't push him off or disturb him because then he'll be wide awake and interrupt Jo's morning, so I lay still and carefully remove my phone from my pocket.

I check the time and it's only 7 in the morning; I seem to have gotten three hours of sleep, pretty sufficient. Also checking my schedule, I feel relieved that I don't have any flights this week. I already knew that because I had continuous two weeks flights till yesterday when I got home, but I still wanted to be sure so that I can wholely concentrate on her.

A while later when my impatience kicks in, I slowly move him onto the couch and off my body as I slip down on the floor because I know if I get off normally, I'll wake him up with me.

Removing my wet t-shirt, I first get freshened up in the common bathroom and make the least possible sound. I was supposed to just wash off my neck, but I end up taking a shower so that I wouldn't have to leave her alone even for a shower after she wakes up.

I get out with the towel wrapped around my waist and not wanting to disturb her, I check for fresh clothes in the laundry room itself. Thankfully I find some and put on a pair of grey sweatpants with a black t-shirt and put my towel on the rack for drying.

When I decide to check on her and tiptoe into my bedroom to take a peek, I find her laying on the bed wide awake with her hands on her stomach, staring at the ceiling with a stream of tears flowing through the side of her temple.

I softly knock twice at the door to let her know my presence and she gets startled as she quickly wipes her tears and looks in my direction.

"Morning" I whisper walking further inside.

She doesn't respond.

She didn't use to stop talking before and kept rambling about everything in her life to me, and now I'm just dying to hear her talk to me; her voice seems to be lost somewhere and it is bugging me more than it should.

I sit down at the edge of the bed and examine her face-- the ointment I applied to her forehead has reduced the redness, and I should dress the wounds up again but every step I take has to be very careful with her. She's too delicate and needs to be handled with the same delicacy.

"Do you want to take a shower?" I ask since she might feel like rinsing off all the events from yesterday. And a cold shower might help her a lot in feeling better.

She nods her head at me once, and I whisper an okay before getting up and gathering the essentials for her.

Hanging a clean towel and bathrobe in the bathroom, I remove a spare toothbrush and place it in the holder beside the sink. When I get out, I see that she's out of bed and walking toward the bathroom now.

"I'll bring your suitcase in here. Just let me know if you need anything, yeah?"

It feels as though I'm talking to myself, with no replies whatsoever. Not that I blame her. There is only one fucking person to be blamed here.

Ever since the first day I got to know how he treated her, I haven't had one percent of trust in that guy. Even though she kept giving him chances, she believed him blindly when he played well for some time. Just to play with her heart again and break it into a million pieces this time.