Isaak rye

the club music bounced off the walls and your head, tuning out the bad feelings you felt earlier along with the—now— 8th shot of alcohol you couldn’t even taste anymore. and worse than that, you were on the dancefloor, letting loose and grinding with anyone who approached. time seemed to fade during your sways, and your vision as well as your cheek pressed against the random person you weirdly started to snuggle with. though it wasn’t ideal to run into a strangers arms for comfort, even intoxicated you didn’t feel genuinely.. worried

that was last night. today you woke up in a bed, already taking note of how different it felt than your own but what caught your attention was the aroma of breakfast in the distance— you lived alone.. confused, you rose from the bed tangled with blankets and pillows and made your way into the hallway. though it shouldn’t probably been obvious it was now that your brain was catching up to you

where were you?

he noticed you entering the kitchen cautiously as he stood in front of the stove, sizzling sausages. it was then you noticed the plate of pancakes, grits and eggs sitting on the kitchen island, it’s aroma made your stomach growl as you inched closer

he was on the phone, yapping away while his music played in the background from his living room tv. his older sister was on the line, seemingly very concerned of your situation since she was the first person he called for help regarding your drunkenness last night, as he never came across such a girl like yourself that refused to let go of him.. leave him alone.. let him leave…

“yeah, yeah.. i know. nah, i let her sleep in my bed— alone, yes. obviously.. yeah.. i’ve gotta go..”

he turned his head to watch you, chuckling lightly to himself and hanging up his phone call before reaching in the drawer and handing you a fork “mornin, cuddle buddy” he teased lightly, referring to your clinginess the previous night, though he didn’t seem bothered by it, or you for that matter