lucifer, l.hemmings

one ➝ "i'm a mess"

 Chapter One: "I'm a mess." - Ed Sheeran.

Picture: Indie Anna. 

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It's been approximately thirty-six minutes since I ran into Lucifer for the second unfortunate time this night. I had spent thirty-two of those minutes in the bathroom hiding from everyone and everything. The alcohol had seeped from my shirt to the top of my jeans. It was a regretful decision on my behalf to wear light-wash jeans because now it looked like I pissed myself.

Sitting on the edge of the bath and scrolling through Twitter had proved hopeless in efforts to entertain me. I didn't even know whose house this was but I hoped they had another bathroom because I wasn't planning on leaving anytime soon.

A sharp rattle on the door shocked me out of my boredom. Oh god, maybe they didn't have two bathrooms. Sorry, drunk person outside. You'll have to pee in a bottle tonight.

"Mm?" I hummed out in response. "It's busy, sorry."

"It's been busy for half an hour." The drunken person knocked again, this time with more force. I groaned, and knew what needed to be done.

"Oooh, right there." I moaned, standing up and leaning against the glass shower wall. I banged it a few times for good measure. "Yeah, baby. Go harder."

I looked down at my nails in boredom, as I continued to make noises, hoping it'd drive the person away. However, it became apparent that wasn't going to happen when the door swung open. I jolted up in surprise, having thought I had locked it.

A flushed looking Lucifer stood in the doorway, and I raised my eyebrow up. My eyes landed on the key in his hand. He looked extremely flustered, which made me laugh aloud.

"What the hell?" He asked, his eyes raking around the bathroom—probably for my non-existent sex buddy.

"Oh, that's what happens?" I paused. "You think someone's having sex in the bathroom so you open the door?"

"Don't look at me weirdly." He frowned defensively. "You're the one pretending to have sex in a bathroom."

"Yeah," I rolled my eyes like this was average behaviour for me, "because someone split fucking pink alcohol on me—by the way, why were you drinking pink alcohol? I knew there was a reason for those skinny jeans." I smirked.

"I'm not gay." He spluttered out. "And this still doesn't explain why you were pretending to have sex in my bathroom."

Oh, well that explains the key and the flustered expression. If I thought someone was having sex in my bathroom I'd kick him or her out.

"I look like I pissed myself." I said bluntly. "This is my defense mechanism for other drunks trying to go to the bathroom whilst I use it as my hiding place."

Lucifer's eyes raked up and down my body, and I decided to give him the benefit of the doubt and assume he was just wondering what damage he had inflicted on my clothes.