Chapter 9

Clinging to a wall, he meanders into the elevator with her behind him.

The ride up is quiet, only her eyes are eagerly scanning him from head to toe.

His head is pulping, and muscles all over his body quakes. Why did he even drink when he shouldn't. Disorientation drowns him and he leans on the control panel of the elevator.

“Leonardo!” She encircles her small arms around his rigid trunk.

“I am fine, I don’t need your help.” His husky voice is barely audible.

She catches her breath. His tantalizing amber fragrance mixed with alcohol projects his lips—how they feel against hers. Intense and delectable.

Having him so close creates anxiety. Shock waves propagate from her stomach to the rest of her body and she closes her eyes at the tingling sensation. What the hell is wrong with me—she blinks numerous times to shuffle her thoughts.

Why is he breathing like his lungs are about to give up on him?

Her heart pulsates. “OH GOD! if anything happens to him, he will blame me again.”

Head stooping down, his arm around her shoulder with bend knees.

“Please, calm down, we're almost there.” She tightens her grip around him as she stares at the numbers counting down.

Freaking out at the rhythm of his heart beat.

“I already told you that I don’t need your help. Let me go!” He is hyperventilating.

Standing becomes daunting, he loses his stamina and puts all his weight on her and she uses all her might to hold him.

“I said don’t touch me..” His voice in a whisper .

“Stop fighting me. You can barely stand.” She drags him into their hotel suite.

Finally, she drops him on the enormous bed in the center of the spacious suite.

Sitting next to him, removing his shoes. He begins shivering, his teeth beating against each other, and sways his head side to side.

With ease, she places a hand over his wet forehead.

Hot as a stove, he is rocking his body.

“Oh no. What am I going to do now.” She removes his belt and covers him with the heavy blanket.

“Hey…” She cups his face.

Laying on his back with hands pressed towards his chest “It’s so cold.” He keeps saying, holding onto the blanket like it's being robbed from him.

Blank. She is staring at him. His usual sullen look transitioned into softness. Pale, the vibrant olive color drained from his face, his moisturized lips losing their juicy effect. And the manner his eyebrows curve in distress.He looks so fragile and it's beautiful. The ethereal image makes her mouth curl into a rueful smile.

Sweat drips down his face and neck and she scurries barefoot to the bathroom stepping on a feathery rug.

Poses for a short while. “What do I do?” Pacing back and forth on the cold tiles.

She opens the tap connected to the bathtub abruptly and water shoots from it, splashing the top part of her dress.“Dammit!”

Stretching her body to the full extent, on her tiptoes to reach a towel from a hanger, she runs it over hot water escaping from the tap and squeezes the towel to drain the water out.

Barging out the door, she hurdles back in the room and places the hot towel over his forehead.

Smoothly, she is petting his face and neck to try to bring down the fever.

His teary eyes crack open, and the warm light from the chandelier hurts his eyes, and closes them in a reflex.

A glint forms in her eyes and gasps when he opens his eyes even when it's sudden. Lately the tune of death has been chanting in her head way too much.

He tries to get up and weakness beats him down.

“Relax..Don’t move.”

“Stop…” he groans.

“God, Just calm down and let me help you.”

“I don’t need your pity.” He stammers, trying to keep his heavy, bloodshot eyes open but they forcefully shut.

“I think you need a doctor—”

“Just leave me alone.” His voice is squeaky.

Nonetheless, she continues to stroke his face.

“I said stop already!” Sobs fill the surface of his eyes but they wouldn't dare fall.

“Fine, whatever!” She reluctantly picks up her body.

Rose trudges into the living space and lies down on a couch, head reclined on the arm of the sofa with her body curled up. Staring through the window, with the moonlight peering, forming shadows, his vulnerable face invades her mind.

“Nooo..What the hell—” She shakes her head.

The kiss they shared loops in her mind wrecking her sanity. That’s if there is any of it left anyway. Make it make sense. Why is she thinking about him in the first place? Like some sort of amnesiac. Or better yet is she familiar with her circumstance? She lets out a deep breath with her nose, her heavy eyes shut and sleep takes over.

******

Groans shake her out of sleep. She sits with her body leaning forward, legs close together and hands cupping her face. Pondering whether she should check up on him or not.

"What if he needs me…" She rubs her eyes.

The whimpering gets louder and she sluggishly fixes the hem of her dress and rises.

Standing in the doorway of the bright-lit room, a yawn evades her and she covers her mouth, while her head slumps on the door frame, contemplating whether to go closer or not—

The murmuring starts and she gulps.

Traipsing forward, scraping her palm with a thumb, she poses next to the foot board of the bed.

His closed eyes are twitching, and his voice is hoarse.

“Stay. Por favor, stay with me. Stay.” He sniffles, in a delirious state. “Mama por favor, no te vayas.” Head turning back and forth.

Why does he keep asking for his mother to stay? Memories of her father surfaces and she flinches.

Eyes sunken into their socket, dark circles under them. “Leo..” Tapping his shoulder.

“Wake up..” She shakes him.

His eyes gape open. Lifting up his upper body, he gobbles a large amount of air.

“Come on, lay back down.” Pushing him back on the bed with ease. The heat emitting from his body smolders her palm “Oh no. Your temperature has gone up.” She arches forward and moves his curls out of his face.

Wheezing abrasively like he has asthma. He skims around, swallowing multiple times to wash down the engraved suffocation.

“Alright, I am gonna go now. Sorry I woke you, I just got scared when I heard you making strange noises that’s all.”

He stares at her with inflated pupils. Gazing at her, his tense face melts.

“No, don’t go.”

She turns around, her hands fold at the soft blows recurring in her stomach. The look in his eyes creates a fringe of a new enchanting world, intensifying the million butterflies fluttering in her gut.

Gawking at her with bemusement. So lost. It’s like he is confined by his own mind and body. For once, he has lost control. The train of meticulously calculating his every move has faded.

“I will stay under one condition—”

“I won’t do anything to you.” he snaps. Is he trying to convince himself or her?

“No, that’s not what I was about to say.” Stroking her wrist.

“What then?”

“You should take a warm bath, it will help cool you down a little.”

He scans her eyes. Like he is searching for a specific thing in them.

“And no fighting, not right now. Get better first.”

He lets out short and steady breaths. Every word coming out of her mouth steers a twinge of pain and rampage.

Is he listening to her? Wow! Since when does he…

She walks away.

“Where are you going?” He manages to sit, his back sagging on the soft fabric headboard.

“I am going to prepare a bath for you.” She says with smiling eyes. Stretching to the full extent of their corners.

“No, you don’t have to. I will do it.”

“I'd rather you stay in bed.” She goes out the door.

And he reclines his head blowing a few huffs.

Instances later she helps him up. His body is powerless.

“Hold on.” He says sitting at the edge.

“Come on.” She lets out her hand.

He nods and takes her tiny hand.

“Put your arms around me and at three we go, okay.”

He nods. And they slowly make their way to the bathroom with her arms around his waist.

She gestures for him to sit at a wooden stool next to the tub.

Her eyes meet his, eyeballs rolling from side to side, requesting permission and he faintly smiles depicting his approval.

She removes his socks revealing his bleached feet, like they are always covered by shoes and socks and hardly receive enough sun. She solicitously pulls down his trouser and her fingers brush against his warm hairy strong legs. The faint action scorches her body.

Standing in between his thighs, Leaning forward to his face, unbuttoning his shirt, she catches a gleam of his razor eyes. Flicking from side to side. Lustrous, digging, dissecting her face.

She puts her lower lip in between her teeth. Controlling her unsteady breathing, and glares at the scattered clothes on the floor.

Her brain takes in his naked body. And everything goes blank. The conscious part of her dims and all she can think about is him all over her.

Sculpted and carved. An outright work of art. Her lips part at the view of his chest. Provocative and utterly alluring. From his defined abs, smooth skin, to the long, narrow, stream-like scar that runs from his left upper chest until the top of his belly button, and another that blemishes his right upper chest and intersects the other. Clawed onto his skin, like it’s done on purpose.

Her jaw drops and she swiftly fixes the dumbfounded look on her face when his eyes bore into hers.

“Ready.” her voice squeaks. Unsteady. Ventricular movements weaken her calf and her legs become jelly.

She nearly stumbles down but he presses his thighs together, with his hands possessively on her hips. Impulsively her palms land on his shoulder for support. He shoots her a lingering stare and her hand slides on his chest. Subtly on his right upper chest.

Short shallow breaths evades him. The warm impact of his breath makes the hair at the back of her neck rise. His heart starts pounding, and the look in his eye is passive.

Time stops and the clock ticks backward. Pandora's box opens.