Page 77 of Make Me Bleed
With a soft squeak, his gaze shoots to mine, and I lift a brow, lips curled inward as the patron makes their way through the laundromat, unaware of the silent battle happening between us.
Abel yanks open the washer lid and pulls out the first article of clothing he gets his hands on and swipes it along the side, hastily cleaning it up. When he’s finished, he turns back around with the shirt clenched tightly in his hands, chest heaving slightly, and I can’t help the laugh that bursts from between my lips. Abel’s eyes drop to my mouth before flicking up to my eyes. His own crease in amusement before he forces his mouth to turn down in a pout.
“It’s not fuckingfunny,Peris,” he hisses. “I just ruined one of my shirts.”
“Poor you,” I say indulgently, reveling in this side of him again. It’s lighthearted and fun and carefree.
Like the last almost two years haven’t happened and we’ve just… hit pause.
“Good afternoon,” the person says as they walk up beside us, and Abel’s eyes widen. He squeaks softly as he straightens up against the washer, hand tightening on his dark gray t-shirt.
“Afternoon,” he says softly, nearly choking on the word, and I cough a laugh.
“Same to you,” I reply easily, loving this discourse between us. It’s so new and different for Abel to be the embarrassed one.
When the patron selects a washer and drags the wheeled basket over to begin their sorting, I step closer to Abel and the opened washer, leaning down to whisper into his ear, “You look a mess, puppy.” His throat rolls with a swallow. “I wonder if they know what we just did. Can you imagine?” I reach out and run the backs of my fingers down Abel’s neck, causing his shoulders to roll with a shiver.
His fingers curl around the open basin, knuckles turning white. “I never imagined you as someone who would love anaudience,” he rasps, and I growl in his ear at the thought. My fingers wrap around the nape of his neck, and I tighten them just above his necklace, relishing in the sting of the points digging into the skin of my arm.
“Oh, I’m not, runt. But I have no problem with themknowingI’ve had you.”
“The homophobia not an issue anymore, then?” he snarks, and Itsk.
“You’re intent on ruining the mood, aren’t you?” But I recognize his hurtful comment for what it is. A defense mechanism. Because I’ve gotten too close and Abel getsnastywhen he feels vulnerable.
But I can’t really blame him because I do, too.
“Just asking. Because I don’t really fucking know you anymore.”
“Yeah, runt. You do. And you know it.”
That makes him turn around. He glances up at me through his long lashes, and I fall into the depths of his eyes. Hot, molten silver. His eyes dance between mine for a moment, and then, he says, “Do I?”
I swallow the lump in my throat, feeling strangely vulnerable standing in the middle of some random laundromat. “You’ve always known me.”
“Ditto, babe,” he says with a smirk, and his lightness shatters the tension of the moment. I huff a laugh and let my hand fall from his neck.
“We probably look crazy,” I whisper, and Abel nods.
“Oh, definitely.” He reaches down into the washer and starts removing the first load of clothes. “Grab that basket and take those out. We need to dry them, and then, we can go.”
“We?” I ask, fingers tightening on the metal frame as I wheel it closer.
Abel looks up from his task to meet my eyes. His face smooths into a soft smile that I know he saves just for me. “We,” he confirms, and I feel like I’m dying a little.
“I kind of expected…”I start but trail off when I realize it makes me sound like an ass.
“What? Somewhere a little more rich?” Abel snarks, and I wince.
“I guess.”
“I save the majority of my money, Peris. I only use enough to pay bills and get what I need. I don’t really have a lot of extra, so this shitty place is it. Though I couldn’t give up having a balcony. I love smoking too much,” he says with a wink, and I roll my eyes. “Though I gave up cigarettes, you seemed to have picked up the habit for me.” He drops his laundry to the floor, and I do the same.
“Yeah, well. Vices and all that,” I mutter, and Abel snorts.
“Fucking tell me about it.” He wanders into the kitchen area, and I take the time to look around. It's a small studio apartment about the size of a hotel room with no dividers or rooms added. The bathroom is off to the side with its own door, and his bed is pushed up against the wall with a navy blue couch to the right of it.
There’s a T.V. across from both with a coffee table separating the space. The kitchen area is right inside the room when you first walk in with a small fridge, stovetop, and bar countertop area with two barstools that go along the other side near the couch.
