build me up. (ON HOLD)

TWELEVE

chapter eleven.
fatal attraction
november 23rd

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ITS 4 IN THE MORNING AND WE HAVE HOT CHOCOLATE.Here I am, drinking freshly brewed hot chocolate in Peter's apartment, on Peter's bed, wearing Peter's clothes, with Peter and his bunny rabbit, Snow.

Granted, I had to choose between this and listening to four horny college students go at it after a night of intense partying and copious amounts of alcohol. So naturally, I chose the former as it would give them privacy and save me the hassle of listening to my friends have unruly sex.

Unfortunately, this meant leaving all of my clothes and hygiene products at their apartment, which was about 2 miles away from where I currently am. I don't even have my bonnet with me, and I knew tonight would be the end of my fresh parts and slicked edges.

I was pretty impaired when we left a few hours ago, not to the point of throwing up and being unable to move without falling, but internally, my brain was working at a very slow pace.

I had smoked way too much tonight.

Not only had I finished my entire joint, which I had no intentions of doing, Peter and I shared a second one he had with him, and that sent me over. I was completely out of it. But I was in full control of myself, not allowing my primal self the chance to act on any impulsivities.

The way he looked at me tonight was all too consuming. The way he held my waist close to his manhood had me hellbent on wanting more, and the things he would say to me reminded me how easy it could be to cave into more than I'd allow myself.

I wanted him.

But I couldn't let myself ruin what we had going. I was comfortable right here, wrapped in one of his fluffy blankets, drinking amazing hot cocoa, and watching Grey's Anatomy. I was sitting up with my legs crossed on his large bed, laughing anytime something comical happened, but also just because I was high as a kite and couldn't control my hysteria.

Peter was laying on his back with his legs crossed and his bunny curled up on his stomach. He had on thick sweatpants and a random graphic t-shirt. His hair was frizzy from his shower and his skin glowed from washing and moisturizing his freckled face. He had on his glasses that complimented his amazing facial structure and his lips looked soft.

His eyes were bloodshot, and he had a lazy smile on his face. He was definitely on the same level as I was, zooted and entertained.

I was caught staring at him as our eyes connected. I began to laugh, partly out of nervousness but also because of his funny expression.

"What's so funny?" he said, his voice sounding offended in a sarcastic way.

"You—" I said in between laughs and gasps of air, "your face—"

He started laughing as I couldn't hold myself together. Suddenly my hands were empty, probably because he noticed my declining ability to hold the mug in my hand without spilling it. My laughs grew harder and his grew louder.

"What about my face?" he questioned, a pout in his lips as his eyes held amusement.

"It's just so funny," I cried out as tears poured from my eyes. For some reason, just looking at him made me laugh. This was less of a "I'm making fun of you" laugh and more of a "you're way too attractive to be human" one.

"Is it now, 아름다운 아가씨 (beautiful lady)?" His voice had deepened, and suddenly we sat face to face.

He said something I hadn't understood but knew it was Korean thanks to the wealth of K-dramas I've seen. My laughter stopped, and I held my breath as we stared into each other's eyes. We were so close to each other with our lips only inches apart and our bodies flush against one another.

Unapologetically, my eyes danced around his face, mainly because the eye contact was too much for me to take, but also in an effort of taking in all the details of his unique features. I could see the gifts his parents bestowed upon him.

He had his mother's monolid eyes, freckles, and high cheekbones. But he had his father's blue eyes, plump lips, and chubby cheeks.

Yet, I could still see baby Peter, the Peter I had thought of all these years.

Back then, his hair was straighter and stuck up in the air, he wore braces that gave him a slight lisp, and socks that reached his kneecaps nearly. But now, Peter was a grown adult, a successful man, and an even better friend.

"You're so handsome," I whispered at him. There was so much tension between us it was hard to breathe.

But I couldn't stop the words from flowing from my mouth.

"You've just grown so much from the little boy I remembered you as," my mind rambled on and my words came out like a song.

All of what I thought was starting to slip from my mouth. And suddenly my eyes started watering, and my chin was wobbling. Because I'm so high, my emotions were crashing down on me. I hadn't had this much fun in a while, and now, for some reason, I was feeling guilty.

My father was gravely ill, and I missed him more than anything. I had no support during all of this; I didn't want to burden my friends with what I was feeling, and I couldn't go to my mother for comfort when all she wanted me to do was everything she couldn't. I had a therapist, but I could only see her once a month.

I was beyond stressed, and now that I'm here with someone who miraculously came into my life, I was overwhelmed.

"Oh—" The bed shifted, and suddenly my head was on Peter's chest, and he was rubbing my back.

"Ivone, what's wrong? Are you okay?" His voice was filtered with worry as he kept asking me what was wrong.

I couldn't find the words. Only the tears kept pouring, and suddenly I was hyperventilating. I hadn't been in this position in a while.

Usually, I'm good at coping with big emotions and overwhelming feelings, but this morning, I was just unraveling.

"I'm so sorry," I gasped out, sitting up and repositioning myself back in my old spot.

I couldn't burden him with my emotions. We had just reconnected and started building our friendship. I didn't want to turn him away and make it seem as if I was only using him for emotional support.

"Don't apologize for being human, and don't feel guilty for seeking comfort," he spoke, taking my shoulders and placing me back on his sturdy, warm chest.

It felt like he knew exactly what I was feeling. His grip on me tightened as he placed his bunny on his stomach and moved the blanket that had fallen off me over my body. My tears had ceased, moved by his sincere kindness.

Was this okay? Was him holding me okay for our friendship?

"Drugs can do that to you. I don't mind your tears at all," he whispered in my ear.

Without thinking, my arm draped over his torso, mindlessly caressing the bunny who seemed to enjoy the soft touches. His body was warm, and his words made me want to cry even more at the thought of him allowing me a safe space of solitude and non-judgment.

As the TV blared through the night, all we did was talk of loneliness, life, and death. His words held me in the depths of their meaning, and I cried until we fell asleep.

While I slept, I dreamt of a place of peace where my faith triumphed over my worry, and Peter was standing right there with me.

In that moment, I knew I loved him.

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short chapter, very fluffy. i loved it honestly.

what do you think of peter?

what do you think of ivone?

don't forget to vote and comment <33

thank you mwah :)