The Worst Drug

•Protection•

{•Unedited•}
~Vina's POV~

His fingers run through my hair, keeping me pressed up against him. Our legs tangle together under the covers, his body heat making me almost too hot between him and the thick blanket. It was cold last night, but in the mornings it's always warmer. The way his arms are wrapped around me makes me feel protected and safe.
My lips press against his chest, his skin soft. My hair falls in front of my face, but not in a way that's uncomfortable. His breathing is soft and even, still fast asleep with no sign of waking anytime soon. I try to keep my body as still as possible so I don't wake him.
Someone came by around twenty minutes ago, only kicked a few times instead of trying to get in. I think it was his mom since the voice was feminine. I've never actually met our neighbors, I've had no reason to introduce myself. My parents have had a few conversations with the couple but it's not enough to be called friends.
Idris's arms loosen around me, shifting his body so he's more on his back. Grabbing his hand, I move it from my arm and place it in his stomach. Looking down at him, my eyes trace over every tattoo he has on his body. It isn't as much as I've seen others have, no where close to either my dad or Atticus, but it fits him well. The bigger tattoos are on his arms, but the smaller moves with less details are stained into his chest and abdomen.
With my index fingers, I trace the outline of his chest tattoo. It's not the most neat thing in the world, but it's nice and compliments him well. Goosebumps grow in his skin as I lower my fingers to his abdomen tattoo, tracing the nicely written letters. His body shifts again, placing his hand over mine.
His eyes slowly open, groaning quietly. "What are you doing?" He asks, lacing his fingers with mine. My face heats up with embarrassment at nearly being caught. Laying back down, I look up at the ceiling. My arms cross over my chest, thankfully pressing my breasts more down than up with the lack of a bra.
"Y-your tattoos are nice," I say, finding no use in trying to hide that I was staring. He props himself up on his elbow, looking down at me with a small, tired grin. His hair is messy in that attractive bed head kind of way. His eyes that are now more blue than they are green. The way his eyes drop down to my lips makes my heart pound.
"I'm happy you like them. You should get some," he says. I can't tell if that's a joke or not. It's something that's crossed my mind before but it's never stayed in my mind for long. It doesn't seem like something I could handle because of the pain but many people on the spectrum have tattoos. The majority of my family has tattoos, even my mom in spots that can be hidden. "Did you sleep okay?"
"Yes. I wish I could say the same for you, but you were tossing and turning the entire time," I say. He lays back down but on his side so he's still facing me. So I don't free el uncomfortable with him staring at the side of my head, I turn to face him as well.
"I slept better than I think I ever have. I just move in my sleep," he says. So much happened yesterday that I'm scared to see what today has to bring. If I had it my way I would just stay hidden in here and not ace my parents until it's completely unavoidable. My mom will surely be the more understanding one, but I know my dads will want to ask me questions. Thinking about all they might ask me about what Dion did yesterday evening makes my stomach turn.
My dad will get angry at any little thing I say because he's a hit head. It's understandable to anyone who knows how protective he is over his family, but to an outsider he just comes off as a psychopath. Atticus will be the same, but in a way that I won't be able to get a word in; he'll probably interrupt me before I can finish answering. My mom will just tell at them for asking me so much and reacting when the damage has already been done. I definitely got my state of mind from her.
"I'm sorry about everything that happened last night. If anything is to come up about this to the police-"
"I'll be okay," he says, brushing my hair behind my ear. I'm surprised that I kind of how touchy he is. He's not someone who shys away from affection. Usually I like people who keep their hands to themselves since I'm not a fan of contact, but from him it's different. In a way, I look forward to his touch and find comfort in it. Even after seeing them covered in blood; if anything, that just made me feel protected. "I don't want you to leave."
"Neither do I. Atticus is gonna ask a lot of questions."
"Don't give him answers. You don't have to say anything you don't want to. If you're not comfortable with saying anything at all then don't," he tells me, his time a lot more firm and to the point. "I'll walk you over after I get ready."
"Someone knocked a while ago," I tell him when he throws the blanket off. Running his fingers through his hair to push it out if his face, his eyes close. "I think it was your...mom?"
"You can call her that if you want, I don't know what to call her. I actually even forgot her actual name," he tells me. I stand up, the blanket coming off me making my body heat drop a good ten degrees. He opens a drawer and takes out a shirt, unfolding it and setting it on the edge of the bed. Facing me, my eyes lock with his. My chest tightens with anxiety but I let hold it for a seconds. "I didn't know you could do that..." he says when I look down towards the floor, letting out a deep breath.
"That was a first." His lips press together as he steps closer to me, hands finding their way to my waist. I look back up, waiting for him to say something. "What happened to Atticus's leg?"
"Zavian short him because he didn't listen to me. Your mom dealt with it though. He'll keep his mouth shut if he's smart."
"You don't know him well. He's not the brightest crayon in the box." He lets me go, his smile meeting his eyes for once.
"I got that much clear after last night."
••••••

I made it up to my room without running into any of my family since they're in the garage. Managing to be quiet has always be a talent of mine that has never came in handy until now. Idris didn't make it out the door with me since his "parents" were in the living room and wanted to talk to him. I hope they don't get him in trouble for having me with him last night.
I hadn't noticed it when I hit up last night, but there is some stuff that has been knocked of my night stand and dresser. I'm surprised the sounds didn't wake me up. Atticus isn't the quietest person, it's a shock that he didn't wake me up when he opened the door.
When I sit down on the edge of my bed I get that familiar sick feeling in my stomach. The fact that I had no idea what was happening doesn't sit well with me. I thank god Atticus thought to come in here. Yes, he should have listened to Idris when he first spoke to him to avoid this entire thing, but he still prevented anything worse to happen after this. If I see the negative in the situation I'll just be sad and I don't want that.
My mom takes anything to heart, she's probably having a harder time with this than I am. I want to see her and talk about everything, but at the same time I don't think her or me will know what to say when that time does come. We aren't the type that can easily talk about our emotions, but when I do I can't help but be completely blunt about literally everything because I don't care anymore.
Someone knocks a few times in the door before slowly opening it. I look up to see Atticus standing in the door way, his left leg bent. Forcing a smile, my heart starts beating faster again. His eyes drop to the door to everything that fell last night from his attack on Dion.
"I would have cleaned it, but I wouldn't do a good job of it," he says, gesturing to his leg. I shrug, putting off talking as long as I can. "I'm disappointed in you." My brows furrow in confusion. I've done nothing wrong.
"I don't understand."
"You shouldn't have left with him last night. I've told you stay away from him. I knew you weren't listening, but I didn't think you would disobey me in front of me," he says, arms crossing over his chest. He can't be serious. I knew he wasn't a fan of Idris's but I didn't know how far that went. Idris hasn't done anything to deserve any hatred, he's only wanted what's best for me.
"Mom didn't have a problem with it," I defend myself. He rubs his temple with his fingers, groaning as if I'm irritating him.
"Your mother doesn't have a problem with a lot of things, that doesn't mean she's right about everything," he snaps. I flinch at his sharp tone, eyes darting down to the floor. "I don't want you around him," Atticus tells me. "This time I'm serious. From what I've seen he could be a good guy, but I don't think that's a chance you should take."
"Shouldn't that be my choice?" I ask. His brows pull together.
"No, not yet at least. You know what happened to Dion?" I nod, feeling sick just at the mention of him. I hate that I'm happy someone's life was taken. "I thought he was good person until I seen him last night. He's cruel and vial. I don't think anyone deserves to die the way he did because of Idris."
"He didn't die because of Idris, he died because of what he did to me," I mumble, my chest tightening. I don't want to have to stay away from Idris at this point, there's no use of it and he makes me feel comfortable. "You don't think he deserved to die?"
"No one deserves to die, Corvina. I can clearly see where your mothers genes came in."
"I think you forget how my family is. Murder can be justified." He's making me feel terrible about the situation when I know I shouldn't. Idris told me it wasn't, he wouldn't lie. Somehow I still feel guilty cause I know I'm the reason he's dead. Did he deserve to die? Dang it, now I can't focus on what I originally thought.
"You're staying away from him, end of discussion."

AN: This chapter isn't being cut into two parts. The next chapter probably won't be up tomorrow but probably Thursday night. I really hope you guys enjoyed. I will going in and editing soon!!
Question: How do you feel about Atticus?
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