Jðkêr//Är†hµr x RêåÐêr ïmågïñê§ & ðñê-§hð†§

• The Birthday Boy (Pt.2)

--1st person POV--

I wake up the following morning with a thumping headache, most likely brought on by too much liquor and not enough sleep.

But at least I'm in my own bed. Alone.
Which is good.

I get up just to take some aspirin and drink a glass of water, then promptly return to my pit, wallowing in shame, wishing I could hibernate til spring.

But obviously I can't because the bills won't pay themselves and all the sleep in the world won't help me with my personal crisis.

I drunkenly kissed my workmate last night.
Someone who I actually cherish as a friend.
Cherish even more than I realised, it would seem.
Now I've probably ruined everything. I mean, how is Arthur going to be feeling about what we did now, in the sobering light of day?
He was a little drunk too, so I wonder if he'll be regretting it?

Pulling the quilt over my head I groan, and try to will myself back to sleep.

Bizarrely it seems to work, and I wake so much later, headache-free at least, but I'm going to be late for work, so I have to speed-shower and do my makeup as quickly as I can.

While on the bus my thoughts keep returning to Arthur, and I wonder what sort of day he's had.
I hope he's safe.
Those little shits that gave him a kicking shouldn't get away with behaving so vile.
Arthur is the gentlest person in the world and he doesn't deserve to be treated so brutally, yet the poor guy always seems to attract trouble.

I wish I could protect him. Shield him somehow from all the horrors life throws at him. He just seems so ill equipped to deal with the brutal reality of the world.

Shit, I really shouldn't have kissed him though. It's so unprofessional mixing business with pleasure.

"I don't want you to leave." He'd said last night, despite him having begrudgingly called me a cab.

"I can't stay, Artie. What would your mom think? There's nothing worse than awkward introductions over breakfast."

He'd laughed at that, leaning against the elevator door. "You're funny (y/n). Funny and beautiful and smart. That's a rare combination."

"It can't be that rare." I told him with a grin. "Because you're all of those things too!"

He pulled a face, making me laugh. "I've been called many things but never beautiful. I don't know if I should be flattered or offended."

"Flattered of course! And you know what I mean."

He took a step closer, lowering his head so we were almost nose to nose. "Do I?"

"Aha. You're handsome."

"You're drunk."

At that point the elevator door tried to close, then he'd stopped it with his shoulder, buying us some more time so he could kiss me goodbye.

It hadn't been a friendly peck either, but rather a full-on knee trembling kiss.

Oh dear.
Admittedly I'm starting to feel a little panicky about what we may have inadvertently begun. Could it simply be labelled as a harmless, drunken makeout session?
Would we have to talk about it? Because that's a conversation I don't think I'll ever be ready to have. But maybe if we do need to discuss things, then not doing it at work would be much easier.