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You were in your room, upstairs, watching some old rom-com with a completely straight face, showing no sign of engagement. Leon was downstairs, doing whatever. You didn’t know. He’s your father’s best friend, who’s going through a shitty divorce. Your father was kind enough to let him crash for a few weeks. You didn’t mind. Of course. Well, not at all. Since you’ve had a crush on him for years now.
You're a college student who needs to study for her finals. Who has to. But your mind became too distracted since he came. And now, you're alone with him. Since your father left the town for his job and he isn’t going to be back very soon. You’re glad and devastated at the same time. Since it’s both a good and a bad thing.
Should I go down? Am I being rude? Fuck it…
You closed your laptop and went downstairs. Leon was on the couch, the TV was off, and he had a glass of whiskey in his hand. You remembered his past experiences with alcohol, but your father told you that he’s being more responsible now. Still, he looked depressed. Maybe because his wife kicked him out of the house? Yeah, probably.
You cleared your throat and said, “Hey.” You were standing behind the couch. Your knees became weak from anxiety, and your hands were behind you.
He turned to look at you. “Hey. Not tired yet?” He spoke really softly. It made you calm down for a second. Leon always comforted you, since you were a struggling teenager. He was always there when you started high school. When you had problems with your friends. When you couldn’t get enough affection from your father. He was your everything, honestly. Even though you didn’t see him for a while.
You made your way to his opposite side and sat down, keeping some distance between you two. “No, I usually sleep late.” You twisted your hands together.
He repositioned himself to face you. “Studying for exams, huh?” He smiled at you, the kind of smile that you always adored. The one that made your heart weak for him.
You didn’t answer right away, just looked at the ground for a second as if it could help you come up with an answer. “Uh… No, I was actually watching a movie,” you answered, still avoiding eye contact at all costs. As if it could poison you, in a good way.
He gave a small chuckle and drank from his glass. “A movie? Aren’t your finals soon?” he said.
“Yeah, I couldn't get myself to study,” because you distract me. You turned your head to look at him just for a second. He was staring at you. And you realized how much more gorgeous he’s become since you last saw him.
“What were you watching that’s more important than your finals?” he asked, almost teasingly.
You became flustered at his teasing tone. “A rom-com…” You answered shyly.
He snorted at that. “Still watching those cheesy movies.” Then he patted your shoulder before having another sip from his whiskey. There was no judgment in his voice. He never judged you for anything. He was the only person who accepted you for who you are.
Your cheeks were getting red. “Yeah, some old habits never change, I guess,” you laughed awkwardly.
He gave a nod. You slowly turned your head towards the bottle on the table. You wanted to try it; you couldn’t resist yourself around alcohol, which became a really bad habit of yours. But you’re 21, so it’s perfectly fine… Or is it?
“Can I have a glass of that too?” you wanted to scream at yourself while asking that.
“You want some whiskey?” he stared right into your eyes. Almost trying to search for a reason.
“Y-Yeah.” You looked at him finally, as if begging him. But that didn’t make sense since you're an adult who can make your own choices. Plus, it’s your own house.
He laughed at your innocent look on your face. “When did you start drinking hard stuff like this?” Then he poured you a glass and handed it to you.
“Thanks, uh… Not long ago.” You twirled the glass in your hand and had a sip. The alcohol burned your throat, which made you cough.
“Easy, kiddo.” That nickname… He still calls me ‘kiddo’.
“I-I’m okay!” You laughed as if trying to prove you're really okay. He wasn’t sure, though.
“If you say so.” he turned on the TV, so there was no silence between you two. But you really couldn’t concentrate on what was on the screen. You wanted to look at him but couldn’t gather enough courage. So you just silently sat there and drank your beverage.
“Hey, that’s enough. You’re completely wasted.” He took your glass and put it on the table. You couldn’t remember how much you drank but knew it was too much. You could feel every part of your body relaxing and your courage striking. Now you could finally look at him; he was closer, looking at you, feeling worried for you.
In response, you raised your hand and cupped his face with one hand, stroking his cheekbone with your thumb. “Your face… It’s so soft…” You smiled.
“You don’t know what you’re saying. Come on, let’s get you to bed.” He tried to grab you to carry you to your room.
“No! I wanna stay next to you… don’t… don’t leave me.” you looked like you were almost crying.
Before he could answer, you wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling yourself against him. Your body was warm, almost trembling. You looked up at him with wide, desperate eyes.
“Kiss me,” you breathed desperately. “Just… kiss me.”
He stiffened, heart pounding. His hands hovered uncertainly at your waist.
“No, It’s wrong,” he murmured, voice low and rough. After looking at you for a while, seeing your needy face, he took a deep breath “Hey, don’t look at me like that. You’re killing me…”
But you didn’t pull away. If anything, your arms tightened around him, your gaze never leaving his, unlike before you drank.
“I know,” you whispered. “But I don’t care right now. I just… need you.”
He stared down at you for a long moment, breathing unevenly. The warning bells in his head were loud, but the way you were looking at him, so vulnerable, so full of longing, made them fade. His resistance slowly crumbled.
“…Your father’s gonna kill me,” he finally said, “Just one kiss, okay?” he agreed reluctantly. You nodded then smiled at him.
He leaned in slowly, giving you one last chance to change your mind. Then finally your lips met gently at first, very soft, almost hesitant. It was a simple press, warm and sweet, like you were testing the waters. You sighed into it, your fingers threading through the hair at the nape of his neck, pulling him closer. The kiss lingered, deepening by degrees as you both relaxed into the moment.
Your grip tightened, and you tilted your head, parting your lips in invitation. He responded instinctively, his hand finding your waist as the kiss grew hotter, more urgent. What started as tender exploration turned more deep, dangerous, slower in rhythm but heavy with need. His tongue brushed yours, drawing a soft, desperate sound from your throat that sent heat rushing through him. You pressed your body against his, one hand sliding down his chest while the other stayed tangled in his hair, tugging lightly in a way that made his pulse spike.
The kiss turned hungry. Your lips moved with growing confidence. He tasted the faint taste of the whiskey you drank earlier, mixed with something uniquely you. When you finally broke apart for air, both of you breathing hard, your forehead rested against his, eyes half-lidded.
“I’ve wanted this for so long,” you confessed in a shaky whisper, your arms still wrapped around him like you never wanted to let go. “Thank you…”
Leon swallowed, heart hammering, knowing he’d just crossed a line there was no coming back from. But in that moment, with your warmth against him and the taste of you still on his lips, even though he hated himself for doing it, he couldn’t bring himself to regret it. “Come one, let’s get you to bed.”