The Loud Crowd

7. The King

I quickly unfastened the corset hooks and let the dress sit around my feet. It seemed incredibly personal, changing clothes - into his clothes - in his room. I had never dared to think such a thing a few months ago. Quickly, I pulled the baggy black shirt over my head, and slid the sweatpants over my legs. They were huge, so I rolled over the waistband and hem a few times. 

I then skipped into his bathroom. Figuring it was no different to kissing him, I used his toothbrush to clean my teeth, then used his hairbrush to untangle my knotted hair. Getting rid of all the smudged make-up was a little more difficult, but eventually my face felt lighter. Feeling at least ten times cleaner, I folded my dress and left it on his bed, before going back out to the living room. 

The music was still playing, and I hummed along as I followed the smell of bacon cooking to the kitchen. He had his back to me, but turned when he heard me humming. 

Smirking at how big his clothes were on me, he said, "You look even better in my clothes than you did in that dress."

I laughed, sitting on one of the barstools at the counter-top. "You have a way with words, Nathaniel."

"Oh, I know," He winked. "Part of my charm. Here - grease is the best cure for a hangover." He slid across a plate of bacon sandwiches to me. 

I grinned. "I hope you don't think I'm too shy to eat fatty food in front of you." 

"Wouldn't dream of it," He said around his own mouthful of bacon.

We ate in silence for a few minutes, and with each bite I felt better and better. His kitchen was cleaner than the rest of the apartment - probably because we didn't have time for cooked meals at home. The only things out of place were about five boxes of tablets.

I frowned. "I thought you weren't supposed to drink alcohol when taking daily painkillers?"

He sprung up from his chair, dumping his plate loudly in the sink. "Have you finished eating? Or I can make some more if you're still-"

"Whoa, hold on." I said, reeling from the sudden subject change. "What?"

"Do you want more bacon?" He asked, his back to me. 

"I want to know why you're suddenly avoiding answering a simple question." I said. "Wait, that sounded way too middle-aged, disapproving house-wife. Why have you gone all jumpy?"

Slowly, he sighed and turned back around to face me. "OK, OK."

Bewildered, I frowned at him. "Nate, what-"

"I've not been taking my meds." He said, staring intently at a dishtowel next to the sink. 

I let that sink in. I wouldn't explode at him, I wouldn't yell. "Alright," I said slowly. "Why not?"

He glanced up at me. "The pain's not too bad." 

"That's bull. Remember I spend every single day with you. Try again." I said, folding my arms. 

He took my hand carefully, looking at it rather than my face. There was something in his eyes, something hurt and guilty. "Don't." He said, simply. 

I sighed, squeezing his hand. "I'm not going to argue with you. I'm done with that. I just... I want to understand. And I want to be able to help."

He glanced up at me again. "I don't want to forget what happened to me. I don't ever want to forget the pain I went through, and if that means suffering through it, so be it. I nearly died, and I don't want to just go back to how I used be, because then it was all for nothing. If I forgot, I'd take for granted everything that I've learnt is special." He finished with a deep breath.