Fucking Kris – Chapter 11

I wake up out of a deep sleep, only to find a painfully bright light splashing across my face. I groan, and roll over, squeezing my eyes shut against the morning. My head is pounding, and I pull the blanket up above my head with a determined hmph.

However, after 5 more minutes of forced sleeping, I finally resign and open my eyes. Sitting up, I look around the room. At first, I don’t know where I am; I could have sworn I was staying at my place this week, and my memory of last night is foggy at best. Then I recognize the bedspread and remember this is Kris’s hotel room. I smile to myself, stretching, and turn over to see if Kris’ is awake.

But he’s not there.

The other side of the bed is still made, with the blankets pulls up and the sheets folding perfectly over the edge. The pillow doesn’t even have a dent in it, save on the side where my head must have rolled onto it a little bit.

That’s when my memory of last night hits me, and I frown. Kris was so disappointed in me, he didn’t even sleep in his bed last night; then where did he sleep? Sighing, I roll out of bed, stumbling on my unsteady legs. Holy shit, when was the last time I ate? I think to myself as I wobble across the room on shaky legs. I rest a hand on the dresser and lean in, taking a few deep breaths. I wonder idly if I should simply go back to bed and wait for Yifan to come help.

Yeah, fuck that, I have to pee.

Yawning and scratching my head, I walk toward the door, my head a foggy mess. The pressure in my bladder makes me B-line for the bathroom, and I pad across the apartment in bare feet. A quick glance around the room confirms that Yifan’s not here. I sigh with a mix of relief and worry, but head to the bathroom anyway.

Afterwards, as I’m washing my hands, I have to stifle a shriek when I look in the mirror. My hair looks like a rats’ nest, all my eye make-up has smeared across half my face, and I look pale and sickly. I don’t feel too hot either.

As I’m splashing water on my face, I hear a door open and close to my left. My heart immediately quickens its pace, and I freeze for a moment. I don’t know where we stand. Only bits and pieces of last night are coming back, and I don’t remember anything past getting told I can’t smoke weed. He didn’t sleep in his bed with me last night, but I don’t know if it’s just because he wanted to give me my space or because he’s angry. I feel my stomach clench. I don’t want him to be mad at me.

Closing my eyes for a moment, I take a deep breath.

I slowly creep out of the bathroom, peering around the door to see where Yifan is. I don’t see him, so he must be in the kitchen or the bedroom. Rustling plastic bags tell me the former is probably more likely. I walk quietly toward the archway into the kitchen, and see him at the counter, his back mostly to me, unpacking groceries and putting them beside him. He’s wearing black track pants and a loose grey long sleeves shirt. It looks soft.

The way he’s standing won’t allow me to sneak past the kitchen without him noticing, but I need to get to the bedroom so I can put on pants. I haven’t had time to go to the gym lately, and I’ve noticed my thighs getting chunky.

I see him turn to put celery in the fridge, and seize my opportunity. Launching myself from behind the wall, I bolt across the doorway, navigating around the corner with ninja-speed and stealth, and am almost into the bedroom when a solid wood thing blocks my path, and I slam into it.

Bouncing off the closed door, I let out an angry yelp as I fall flat on my ass.

“What the fuck?” I yell to no one in particular, then, “Why did you close that door?”

Yifan comes out of the kitchen to find me lying on my back in the middle of the living room, rubbing my forehead where it crashed into the wood. A small smile creeps onto his lips, but I can’t tell if it’s sheer amusement or some sick kind of revenge.

“Guilty,” He says, crouching down beside me to see if I’m okay. He pushes my hair aside to make sure my forehead isn’t bleeding, which it’s not, and grasps my upper arm to help me up. I sit up, crossing my legs and covering myself with the baggy t-shirt to avoid awkward g-string slips.

“Why did you close that door?” I repeat, groaning as I rub my head. Hangover on top of a head injury is not a good idea, not to mention I’m feeling weak and nauseous. I’ll just sit for a moment.

“I thought you were sleeping, so I closed the door to make sure I didn’t wake you when I unpacked the groceries.” Yifan explains sheepishly, trying desperately to keep a chuckle out of his voice. I glare up at him.

“You didn’t think that maybe it was open because I was awake?” I snap

“I didn’t think of that,” he rubs his neck nervously, “Why were you running anyway? Are you avoiding me?”

I snort, before realising that it increases the pressure in my head and that’s probably not the best idea.

“No, I’m just not wearing pants, so I wanted to change before you saw me.” I feel a blush rising up my cheeks, and look away, concentrating on slowly getting up.

Now it’s Yifan’s turn to laugh.

“I’ve seen you naked, Alice. Bare thighs under a t-shirt is nothing to be worried about.” He’s taken away his hand, but replaces it as I shift my legs beneath my butt and slowly rise to my feet.

Suddenly the world starts spinning, and my head pounds as soon as I straighten up. My stomach churns and my legs shake underneath me, causing me to stumble into Kris’s shoulder; I would have collapsed if he hadn’t caught me under the arm.

“Whoa, steady,” Yifan says, panic registering in his voice, “Are you okay?”

“I need to sit down,” I mumble shakedly, my eyes concentratinmg on the side table before me, watching as it swims in and out of focus. I clutch at his arms, trying desperately to keep myself upright. I can see my blurry hand shaking violently against the fabric of his shirt.

Yifan practically carries me to the couch, and I fall onto the cushions, my left hand grabbing the backrest as I lay myself down. I rest my right hand on my stomach and close my eyes, trying to stop the room from spinning. I feel a trickle of cold sweat run down the back of my neck.

I hear the rush of fabric against skin as Yifan crouches down beside me, placing his hand gently on my right. I swat it away with a gasp, the tiniest extra weight causing my stomach to roil.

“Hang on, don’t touch me, please,” I feel bile rising in my throat, and swallow it down. I will not barf on Kris, I will not barf on Kris, I will not, I will not, I will not, I chant in my head.

“Is there anything I can do?” Yifan asks desperately, and even with my eyes closed I see him fluttering his hands helplessly over my body. I take a deep breath.

“Get me a blanket and an ice pack please,” I force out through clenched teeth. My stomach seems somewhat settled now, but I’m scared to open my eyes because my head is still pounding. If the room is spinning again we’re gonna start the whole stomach thing over.

I hear noises coming from the kitchen, and a few moments later a cold ice pack is placed in my hand, and I quickly shove it on the back of my neck, resting my head on it. I immediately feel the coolness relieving some of the pressure. I sigh. I feel Yifan gently lay the blanket across my body, and smile.

“Thanks,” I mumble, reaching to my right to find his hand. I entwine my fingers with his, and he flexes his hand, holding my tight.

“You’re freezing,” he says, and I feel warm, soft lips press against my fingers. I smile more.

“I just felt a bit faint is all,” I say, opening my eyes. I blink a couple times, but the room seems to be more or less in focus, and I look over to Yifan, a concerned frown stuck on his forehead. I reach over with my free hand, using my thumb to rub away the crease between his eyebrows.

“Don’t worry,” I chuckle, “I’m fine. Haven’t you ever seen a hungover person before?”

Yifan chuckles, and looks slightly reminiscent, “There was that one time with Baekhyun. And I helped my friend from high school home once before I got hired by SM..” He shakes his head, frowning again.

“But that doesn’t matter. Are you feeling better?”

“Yup,” I say, forcing myself to sound more cheerful than I feel, “Let’s get some food in me.”

I only had to lean on Yifan’s arm for half the walk to the kitchen, and even when my own two feet were strong enough to carry me, he hovered behind me like some over protective mother. I chuckle silently to myself, and take a seat in one of the chairs beside the table, crossing my legs beneath me.

“So, what are we having?” I ask, assessing the half put away grocery that cover the counter. I see eggs, bacon, yoghurt, a box of chicken breasts, orange juice, a case of water, a box of crackers, half a wheel of fine brie cheese, a packet of smoked salmon and a box of assorted salad greens, amongst other things.

Yifan rubs the back of his neck, looking around uncertainly.

“Uh, what do you want?” He asks

“Do we have soup?” I answer his question with a question; I always ate chicken noodle soup when I was sick, and it just feels right right now.

“Yup, we have a packet of miso soup, is that okay?” he reaches into the cupboard instead of one of the bags, and pulls out a brown and yellow packet, with a picture of a steaming bowl of soup and some Chinese lettering on it. I shrug, never having tried the soup.

“Sure,” I reply, “Is there enough for you?”

Yifan reads the packet, frowning cutely. I smile.

“Yeah, it says there’s enough for two servings in one packet.” His eyes keep moving, reading further.

“Do you want my help, or can you handle this?” I chuckle.

The look he gives me plants me firmly in my seat. I watch contentedly as he adds water to a pot, sets it on the stove and pours the powder into the mix. Yifan then plunks down across from me.

“Feeling better?” he asks, resting his elbow on the table. I smile.

“Much,” I reply, wrapping the blanket I carried from the couch around my bare thighs. The smell that lingers as I move the blanket tells me I should probably shower.

An awkward silence falls across Kris and I, and I look over to see if the soup is boiling. Not even steam is rising yet.

“Why did you do that, Alice?” Yifan asks in a low tone. I don’t need to ask what he’s talking about. I exhale, sighing and chewing nervously on my lip as I think of an answer.

“I don’t know,” I shrug, “I guess everything’s just super overwhelming lately, with us going to China, and my father coming out of nowhere with his wedding, cause that’s really got my mom in a-“

“Wait, what?” Kris asks, holding up a hand, and I stop talking, looking over at him with eyebrows furrowed. “We’re going to China? Have you made a decision? And what’s this wedding, I thought you didn’t talk to your dad?”

I take a second to process his words, before realising my mistake.

“Oh yeah,” I say slowly, scratching absent mindedly at the back of my hand, “I didn’t tell you about that.. My dad called yesterday about an invitation to his wedding that we got a couple days before. He wants me and my brothers to go, but I told him I’m going to China and can’t. We got into a bit of an argument.”

Yifan’s face visibly lit up at my words. “You mean to say, you are going to China then?”

I sigh, and run my hand through my hair. I don’t love the idea of going to China, but I like the idea of Kris leaving without me even less. I let my hands fall in my lap with a resigned huff.

“Yes, I’m going to China.” I say, and can’t help the grin that spreads across my face. My happiness, however, is nothing compared to Yifan’s who jumps up and leans over the table, grabbing my chin and kissing me full in the mouth. His lips press against mine, and I can feel the smile on his face before he pulls away. His ecstasy is contagious, and before long I’m laughing with him.

That is until the pot starts boiling over.

We both jump up, but Yifan gets there first, still chuckling as he pulls the pot off the heat. I watch as he pours two bowls of soup, and as he walks them over to place them infront of our seats, he smacks his lips, and his tongue darts out. He frowns.

“You seriously need to brush your teeth.” He says, sitting down and picking up his spoon. Not even mildly shocked by his bluntness, I give him the finger, and scoop up a spoonful of soup. I blow gently on it to cool it down.

When we’re both about halfway through our soup, Kris clears his throat.

“On a more serious note though, please don’t do that again,” His voice is forcibly calm, and he stares down at his soup as he says it, “I don’t know what drove you to drink, but I was more worried last night than I’ve been in a long time, possibly my whole life. Be safe please, Alice. For me.”

And with the conversation was over, and all I could do was nod silently and finish my soup. I feel kind of guilty for last night, especially since Yifan has so much to worry about right now. I shouldn’t have put him through that, but I don’t deal with stress very well.

After the soup is done, I stand up to put mine and Yifan’s dishes in the sink. I feel a lot better, and my head barely swims at all when I’m upright. The soup warmed me up and filled my belly, but now I’m overly conscious of how bad I smell.

“I’m going to take a shower,” I announce, and head to the bathroom. Yifan plunks himself down in front of the TV as I rummage through the closet for a towel, and head into the bathroom, locking the door behind me. It’s simply a force of habit, and I don’t think much of it.

I undress, heaping my dirty clothes in the corner by the cupboard (I lost the blanket after the soup) and turn the water on. I feel filthy, and I want scalding water, so I have to wait until steam is visibly rising from the stream before I step in. The water burns as it hits my skin, and I hiss at first, but it feels clean, and I soon grow accustomed to it. I remember when I was little, I liked to take off my shoes on warm spring days and run around in the ditch by our house, squishing the mud between my toes. It would get all over me; my hands, face, clothes, everywhere. To get me clean, my mom would throw me in a scalding hot shower, and told me that if I don’t scrub, the hot water will at least get me clean. Ever since, I’ve always stood in boiling water if I feel especially filthy.

And today, I do; inside and out. Not only are the lingering wisps of this morning’s nausea still swimming around in my stomach, but there’s a lead weight of guilt too. As I scrub my body clean, I think of all the things Yifan’s been through this year; leaving EXO, being followed by the paparazzi, being bashed by fans and non-fans alike, having to leave his home and the life he established in China to hide from a crazy entertainment mega-company. The more I think, the guiltier I feel; so I stop thinking.

With nothing to think about (or too much) I start singing lowly to myself. Natasha Bedingfield’s Soulmate is stuck in my head, and soon I’m well into the chorus, holding notes confidently as the lyrics come to mind. It’s a pretty song, kind of sad, and I remember I sung it for a talent show when I was in grade 6. I don’t know why it suddenly surfaced, but I have nothing else to clean when the song is halfway done, so I simply stand in the way of the water, holding the shampoo bottle as a microphone and belting my heart out.

Incompatible, it don’t matter though
‘cos someone’s bound to hear my cry
Speak out if you do
You’re not easy to find

Is it possible Mr. Loveable
Is already in my life?
Right in front of me
Or maybe you’re in disguise

Who doesn’t long for someone to hold
Who knows how to love you without being told
Somebody tell me why I’m on my own
If there’s a soulmate for everyone

As my last note trails off, I turn off the water, my skin singing in response to the cool air. I hop out, and wrap a towel around my raw skin. I pull my hair in a loose bun, brushing the water out and tying it on top of my head. All my make-up is gone from last night, and my face looks smooth and fresh and pink. I’m clean. I sigh, and smile, heading out into the living room.

An angry voice greets me when I turn into the TV room, which is necessary to get to the bedroom. I look around and see Yifan pacing in front of the muted TV, his cell phone pressed to his ear. He is speaking in rapid Chinese (I’m pretty sure) and is obviously irate. His back is to me, and I slip into the bedroom unseen.

Closing the door behind me, I find and pull on a pair of old jeans, a sports bra and a loose, off-white sweater. I have various articles of clothing I brought over to stay at Yifan’s when we started going steady, and this morning is pretty cold, so I’m grateful for the warm articles. I don a pair of socks, hug the sweater tight around my chest, and open the bedroom door.

Yifan’s sitting on the edge of the couch now, his elbow leaning against his knees, legs splayed, rubbing his forehead. His eyes are closed, the phone still pressed to his ear and he looks weary and drained. I frown.

I walk over to the couch, and drop down beside Yifan. I place my right hand on his back, rubbing gently as he sits there, head in hands. I can hear a voice through the phone, loud and angry, the words fast and incomprehensible (to me at least). I pull my knees up so I’m sitting cross-legged and simply watch in silence as Yifan listens to whatever the other person is saying.

Suddenly something they say triggers him, and he stands up quickly, knocking my hand away. He begins pacing again, and now it’s him from which the angry words are streaming. I can’t understand what he’s saying, but I don’t need to catch more than a couple words to figure out what he’s talking about. I distinctly hear “EXO, “SM” and four members’ names mentioned; Tao, Luhan, Lay and Baekhyun. Yifan’s face is flushed with anger, and his fists clench and unclench as he paces back and forth in front of the TV.

It’s a good ten or fifteen minutes before he finally presses the end call button with an angry jab. He half faces me, sliding his phone in his pocket. He closes his eyes, taking a deep breath, but the frown remains on his forehead. I can see the effects of the argument on his body already; his back is slouched, his eyes droop, his breathing is heavy and his hands are shaking. There’s a line on his forehead where the skin was pinched, and the colour is slowly draining from his face. I sit silently and watch him, giving him his space.

After a moment, Yifan comes and drops down beside me. He exhales as he does it, letting out a long sigh. I continue rubbing his back in gentle circles. I have never been good at comforting people, but when I was little, my mother always rubbed my back in a similar manner if I were upset, so this comes naturally to me.

Yifan sits slouched, with his elbows resting on his knees and his head in his hands. I don’t need to understand to know he’s upset.

“Do you want to talk about it?” I ask him softly.

“No.” Comes his short answer. I don’t want to push or invade his privacy, so I simply nod silently, understanding. He’s just spent 20 minutes arguing about it, he’s probably all talked out. I pull my legs further into my body, and lean my head against his shoulder in silent companionship. My hands are in my lap, and I nuzzle against his warm skin, sighing with content. Yifan absentmindedly places his hand on my knee, but a glance to his face confirms that his thoughts are elsewhere. I close my eyes, letting my own thoughts take me away.

Despite Yifan’s obvious tension, I’m happy. I feel comfortable with this silent understanding; words can be complicated, but sometimes all you need is physical communication. I smile drowsily.

I’m jostled when Yifan moved a little, raising his right arm to rub at the stiff muscles of his shoulder. He groans, pressing his fingers into the tight joint. I sit up, and readjust myself so I’m facing him.

“Here, let me,” I say, motioning for him to turn. When he doesn’t, I simply scoot behind him on the couch, so he’s sitting on the edge and my legs are crossed behind him, my knees touching each of his thighs. He doesn’t move his hand, so I swat it away, and place my hands against his shoulder in his stead.

Where I lack in comforting skills, I make up with my hands. I have always been skilled at giving massage and relieving tension in muscles, so good that my uncle gave me money for it one time because I stood behind him and rubbed his shoulders for a full hour. Yifan’s head hangs, his muscles slowly relaxing under my touch, I rub at the joints, pressing where I know the muscle attaches to bone. My knowledge is expanded by the high school Kinesiology class I took as an elective, and I’m suddenly grateful for the hours I spent slaving over textbooks to memorise origins and insertions. Pushing my thumbs into his skin, he lets out a groan, and I slowly work out the knots.

After a while my hands become sore, but I don’t stop until everything feels loose. His skin is slightly pink where I’ve rubbed it, but he doesn’t seem to complain; on the contrary, the noises in the back of his throat indicate he’s extremely relaxed. I feel bad when I stop, stretching my fingers out and flexing my palms.

Shifting back beside him, I pull his waist so he’s sitting with his back against the backrest of the couch. He;s still slouched down with his head hanging. I reach out and push his chin up, moving his face toward mine.

“Are you asleep?” I ask, leaning my face in towards his. His eyes open just as my lips brush his, and he presses his face against mine in a passionate kiss. Taken aback by his suddenness, I lean back a little, and he stops. Frowning, I open my eyes.

“Sorry,” he mumbles. I cock my head to the side, confused.

“What?” I ask, wondering why he’s suddenly sheepish. He hesitates before answering.

“Nothing,” Yifan then stands up, and whether he’d intended it or not, the reason for his embarrassment becomes apparent.

Even though he turns his body slightly away from me, I can still clearly see the erection pressing against the fabric of his track pants, the loose bottoms doing nothing to help conceal his predicament. Despite my seasoned experience with said erection, I can’t help but let out a snort of laughter. He looks like a fucking sundial.

Yifan turns around, frowning down at me, and to my shock, his face is beet red. I didn’t realise how embarrassed he is, but now I feel slightly guilty.

“I can’t control that, okay?” He says defensively, shifting his arms uncomfortably, “I was angry, and my blood was pumping, and then you started massaging me and..” he trails off, looking sheepishly to his left. I can’t help but smile at the odd picture in front of me; an embarrassed Yifan with a raging erection pointing straight at my face-

An idea hits me. I smile slyly, and slink up onto my feet so I’m standing directly in front of Yifan. He looks down at me through his eyelashes, his cheeks still red. I brush my fingers against the pink skin, and he closes his eyes against my touch. Perfect.

I press my body against his, my hips and the tip of his erection being the first things that touch. I see his eyes fly open, just a half a second before I force my lips against his, taking advantage of his unexpectingly lax mouth to push my tongue past his teeth. He lets out a groan, and I feel his hand grasp the small of my back. I press closer against him.

Pulling my lips from his, I trail my tongue down his jaw, breathing lightly against his neck, raising goosebumps before biting down on his collarbone. My hands travel under his shirt, moving over his muscles to rest on his nipples, which are erect and alert. I pinch one, timing it with a second nibble on his neck. He groans again, low and deep, and his hand tightens on my back.

I don’t waste any time pulling his shirt off, yanking it above his head. Yifan’s hands become more passionate, gripping my clothes and pushing me into him, so I can feel his chest heaving against mine. I move my lips down, my hands splayed across his chest, my mouth travelling between them. I continue all the way to his navel, until I meet the light trail of black hair that leads me to where I want to go. The X marks the spot.

By now I’m on my knees in front of him, my face level with his groin, and if he doesn’t figure out what I’m doing by now, than I have greatly overestimated his intelligence. However, to my delight, he seems to have clued in.

“Alice, you-” he begins, his voice raspy and breathless, but I cut him off quietly by cupping his crotch in my hand and squeezing lightly. He stops with a stuttered groan, and his hands clench around his hips, wanting for something to grab. Luckily, trackpants are easy, and no belts or zippers are involved. In one swift motion, I yank both pants and boxers down, freeing his erection.

Every time I see it I can’t believe it’s size, but I’ve never been this close before. I gently brush a hand along his length, and I feel his body tense at my touch. When I reach his pelvis, I curl my fingers around him, squeezing suddenly and pulling up again. He groans, and I see a bead of milky white pre-cum leak out the tip, and slowly begin to trickle downward. I flick my tongue out to catch it, quick and sudden, and as the salty substance touches my tongue I pull his entire cock into my mouth.

One hand around his shaft and the other on his hips, I work away at his erection, pumping with my hand and using my tongue to swirl around and bite down ever so gently on the tip. There’s enough space for my fist and my mouth, and as I take him on my tongue again, as I pull away I grate my teeth along the shaft. Yifan pumps his hips forward suddenly, thrusting his cock into the back of my throat, and I almost gag, but instead I use the opportunity to quicken the pace. I suck on the head, pumping up and down the hard shaft, watching the muscles around his groin flex and relax.

After a fair bit of teasing, I pull him out of my mouth, and run my tongue along the side, agonisingly slow. As I reach the tip, I’m careful not to touch anywhere else, and simply lick up and down across the miniscule opening at the end. A low growl is my only warning before Yifan moves suddenly, bending down so he’s at my level.

Suddenly I’m being pushed onto my back, and my naked boyfriend is crouching before me, erection standing tall, as he pulls off my loose jeans. He doesn’t bother undo the buttons, and I hear a faint tear as they pass down my hips, but I couldn’t care less. We’re jammed between the coffee table and the couch, and Yifan wordlessly motions for me to move back into more open space. Before I’m even a foot away, he jumps on me, pushing my legs bare legs apart with strong hands and thrusting inside me with one quick motion.

I gasp, feeling my own muscles tense as he enters me, my back hitting the floor hard. Yifan falls ontop of me, his elbows coming above my shoulder, and he starts thrusting in and out at a quick pace. His breath is ragged, and he exhales in time with each thrust. I immediately feel my own pleasure building, and I realise that he’s so far lost he won’t worry about me. Reaching down to where we meet most intimately, I shift my hips upward, achieving two things; my finger can access my clit, and it rubs Yifan the right way. I hear his breath hitch, and I start to rub my clitoris in a circular motion, keeping in time with his increased pace. My abdomen tightens, and I feel my temperature rising as my own sounds leak out of my mouth.

For once, we seem to be in our own little worlds, me pleasuring myself, him taking pleasure in me. I barely notice his movement until he hits my g-spot. My eyes fly open, and a gurgled yelp escapes me. He continues to hit it, his shaft rubbing perfectly against me, and I time his motions with my circular rubbing. My orgasm comes within seconds. I feel my muscles tighten around Yifan’s erection, squeezing like a vise as he pumps harder than ever. My body bucks forward, my shoulders crashing into his, but he doesn’t notice as he reaches his climax as well. Though I started first, I’m still riding out my orgasm by the time he’s done, and we collapse down on the carpet together.

Yifan’s chest heaves against mine, and I feel his recently unknotted muscles shaking from exertion. I draw lazy circles on the small of his back with one hand, my other splayed out to my left. I feel Yifan smile against my neck, and roll my head over to rest my nose against his cheek. He turns sleepily and kisses me, but we both break off soon to catch our already short breath.

We stay on the floor for a while, him naked, and me with just my shirt. After about five minutes though, my lower parts begin to get cold, and I have to pee, which is pretty typical after a good fucking. I stand up, pulling on my underwear but discarding the jeans, and head to the washroom.

After I splash my sweaty face with water, I return to discover Kris has found his pants. He doesn’t bother wearing his shirt, so we end up being opposites, me lacking bottoms, him a top.  I’m on my way over to where he stands when my phone rings on the table to my right. Hissing through my teeth, I walk over, and catch it after the second ring.

“Hello?” I answer, slightly irate.

“Alice. It’s Kat,” Comes the voice on the other side, “You’re missing your health card, aren’t you?”

It takes me a moment to register what she says, and another to respond.

“Um, no, I think I have it,” I reply, frowning. I head over to the bedroom where my purse is just to make sure.

“Check,” She sounds serious, and I immediately become concerned.

“Hey, what’s up?” I ask as I pin the phone between my shoulder and my ear, and rummage through my purse to find my wallet. I’m dimly aware of Yifan having followed me into the bedroom.

“My manager was doing the regular check of the security cams this morning when he found something suspicious,” Kat begins to explain, just as I open my wallet, “That man that bumped into you when we were in the café, his hands were level with your wallet, and he pulled something out, a card. It can’t be your driver’s license because you’ve driven since then, and I know you, you always check to make sure you have it before you drive, it wasn’t your debit card because you’ve used it since, and no one would steal a gift card or student ID. Check your wallet.”

Half of the last bit of Kat’s speech doesn’t process in my brain. I stand in the bedroom, light from the window illuminating the lower half of my body, staring at my wallet and the pocket in which my health card usually is. But it’s not there.

That man stole my health card.

“It’s not.. I don’t have it, Kat,” I murmur letting the wallet fall from my hands as Yifan comes up to take it, no doubt wanting to look through it himself and confirm my ID’s absence.

“Call the police,” Kat says confidently; she’s obviously thought this over.

“I will, I have to get off the phone with you first though. I don’t want to call the police on a hotel phone.” I reply, sitting on the edge of the bed. I suddenly feel lightheaded. No health card means no hospital insurance or coverage should I get in an accident. Some hospitals won’t even admit a patient if their health card isn’t on them. If something were to happen to me..

“Don’t call the police.” Yifan’s voice is steady but low, and he puts down the wallet to look me straight in the eye, ‘I thought this might happen. You can’t call the police.”

Kat’s comments such as “what?” and “you’re boyfriend’s fucked Alice, don’t listen to him,” don’t even reach my ears. I look back at Yifan with a blank expression.

“What do you mean?” I ask.

“I mean I’ve known SM is following me, and my extension, you as well. I saw this coming. You can’t call the police. I know how to deal with this. We’re being hunted.”
~~

Please excuse any spelling mistakes, I really wanted to get this updated so it’s late where I am, and I’m about to go to bed. I really hope you like it! Things are starting to pick up a bit. I’m on Christmas break now, so I should update more regularily, at least for the next couple weeks. I’m thinking of doing a late Christmas special..

Anyway, I really hope you like it, don’t forget to comment and subscribe and all that other stuff I should be reminding you to do 😛

Merry Christmas my lovelies! I love you al! ❤

Fucking Kris- Chapter 10

“You want…” I trail off, unsure as to what to make of the soup my mind has become. I mumble uselessly, “.. China?”

Kris chuckles, brushing a strand of hair lightly from my cheek.

“Yes, China.” He murmurs, his gaze making my cheeks red. I look away.

My brain is a jumble of thoughts, and I focus on my hands, clutching the cheeks that cover Kris’s chest. I notice vaguely that I should probably file my nails before Yifan loses all the skin on his back.

“Why?” I ask stupidly, finally looking back up into his dark eyes.

Kris seems to think that’s a dumb question, because he frowns, raising an eyebrow.

“Because I want you to come with me,” He chuckles. “I want the girl I love to see where I grew up, where my life changed, where I trained, learned, became who I am. Not only is it important to me, but it’s also a beautiful place. I would pay for all the expenses of course; I know you’re trying to save up for University.”

When I don’t say anything, he rushes on.

“Also, I want you to be there to support me with all this lawsuit shit. I wasn’t able to see you for a couple days already because of it, I don’t want to be away from you for that long.” My heart skips a beat, and I can’t help but blush and smile. I bury my head in his shoulder, beaming.

However, something occurs to me. If I go to China with Kris, I will be totally lost. I’ve never been there before, I know nothing about it, and I don’t speak Chinese, not even a little bit. I suddenly frown, my breathing becoming slightly heavier. Also, I’ve seen what sasaengs do at the airport when EXO members arrive. There would be no secrets when Kris walks off that plane, with me latched onto his arm. I’ll become famous, and not in a good way. Hate, rumours, threats; everything will be thrown around on the internet, and I’m not sure I’m ready for that kind of publicity.

I can hear my breath catching in my throat, and my mouth has opened and closed at least three times, gaping like some sort of demented fish. I’m suddenly glad my face is buried in Kris’s shoulder. I can feel his jaw clench against my cheek and I frown, sensing his unease. He shifts his upper body, bending his back so that he’s pulled away from me, leaving my head to thwump down onto the pillow. I shoot him a look as I lift my face from the down, but immediately stop when I see his concerned expression.

“I was expecting you to be happy,” he says, watching me with sad, dark eyes. I can tell that he’s exaggerating some of the expression, but most of it is genuine. I feel like someone has dropped a lead weight into my stomach. The corners of my lips pull down, and I look away. Yifan’s hand reaches out to me, long fingers brushing across my shoulder before resting lightly on my waist. He pulls me closer to him, pressing his body against mine and entangling our legs and feet. My feet are eternally cold, and I can sense his muscles tensing up in response, but he doesn’t pull away. That makes me feel marginally better. I look up at him.

“If you don’t want to go, please just tell me,” He pleads, voice becoming more pitiful by the second. I reach up with my lips, hastily kissing away his worries. I can practically taste his disappointment.

‘It’s not that I don’t want to go,” I murmur against his mouth, keeping my eyes closed. Maybe if I don’t look at him, his eyes can’t fluster me. “I just- It’s..”

Or maybe not.

I sigh, pulling away, watching as Kris’s eyes open lightly, watching me as I fumble for the right words.

“You’re worried about the fans.” It’s not a question; he says it as if he already knows. I shrug in resignation.

“Yeah,” I say simply, “And also the fact that I’ve never been to China and I don’t speak Chinese. I’d be completely helpless.”

At this Yifan chuckles.

“I speak Chinese, remember? You’d be with me,” He smiles lightly, “Unless you plan on running off.”

He raises an eyebrow at me, and I can’t help but laugh.

“Okay,” I say, my smile fading again. I hear Kris sigh, “But you’ll be doing lawsuit things; I’m sure there will be at least one occasion during which I am not with you. Do you expect me to sit around in a hotel room whenever you have to go somewhere?”

Kris frowns again. I watch him for what seems like a long time, watching his eyes flit back and forth; thinking. Just as I’m growing certain that he’s found something particularly interesting about the sheets, he opens his mouth.

And yawns.

I give him a look as he showers me in warm, not entirely pleasant smelling air, before closing his wide mouth and saying;

“Just promise me you’ll think about it, okay?” He bends down again to kiss me, before rolling over on his back. “ I don’t want to pressure you; it’s entirely you’re decision. Just know that I would like you to come and that you don’t have to pay for anything.”

“How long would we be there for?” I ask.

Kris shrugs, “A couple weeks. If it takes longer you can come back. I know you can’t take too long off work.”

The thought of being without Yifan makes the lead weight return to my stomach, but I try to shake it off. Instead I roll over, turn off the bedside lamp, and reach over Yifan’s chest to turn off his. I stretch my arm across, my breasts resting on his soft skin. Just before the room goes dark, I see his eyes watching me, warm and mildly amused. Then I click the light off; falling back onto the bed beside Yifan’s warm body. I snuggle up to his side, wrapping my right around aound his abdomen, curling my left up beside me. He raises his arm to stretch it behind his head, effectively thrusting armpit hair up my nose. I make a displeased noise and roll over, muttering “thanks” before settling on my other side.

I hear a light chuckle from behind me, before feeling my bedfellow shift. I feel Yifan press up against my back, and immediately doze off to the warmth of strong hands draped over my waist.

* * *

“China?!” Eli’s mouth drips mustard down his chin, and he absent mindedly wipes it with his napkin. He licks his lower lip before continuing, “You dumb bitch! Why didn’t you say yes?”

I roll my eyes. Eli has sprawled himself across the three-seater couch in my basement, forcing Kat and I to squeeze onto the loveseat adjacent. Our legs are tangled together, our backs against each armrest. Back in high school, I remember there was a rumour we were lesbians, and were fucking each other. We went along with it, until Kat got a boyfriend and the rumour went away. High school’s weird.

“Do I speak Chinese, you dumb fuck?” I snap, shooting Eli an exasperated look. He has a hotdog in his mouth (he just got my barbeque working and wanted to test it), and he dramatically thrusts the sausage down his throat, giving it a meaty blowjob. I simply roll my eyes, Kat and I glaring at him.

“So, how far have you gone with Kris?” Kat asks, shifting her legs against mine. I stick my cold toes under her butt, and she shrieks as the cold skin touches her exposed back between her waistband and shirt. I chuckle.

“Yeah, have you sucked his dick?” Eli practically shouts, pulling the food from his mouth.

“Eli!” I’m actually slightly irritated by Eli’s insistence on sticking his nose in my business, “Want to be more vulgar?”

“Well, have you?”

I blink, debating whether or not to even answer. I’m usually very open about my sex life with Kat and Eli, and they know pretty much everything about my every sexual encounter, but for some reason this feels different. I feel like I’d be betraying Yifan’s trust if I were to open up to them.

Luckily, I’m saved by my phone ringing, making my pocket sing and vibrate. I detangle myself from Kat’s legs and hop out of the room, jiggling my phone from my pocket and flipping it open. It’s an unknown number. I answer anyway.

“Alloo?” My French accent has seemed to seep into my phone conversations more often lately.

“Alice?” A low voice reaches me through my phone and I frown.

“Who is this?” I ask.

“Your dad.”

My heart seems to freeze in my chest. I haven’t heard my father’s voice for at least four years, and we haven’t even exchanged letters in two. My jaw clenches, and I become aware of my nails digging into my palm. I take a deep breath, unsure of what to say.

“What do you want?” It comes out harsher than I had intended, but I couldn’t care less. This is the asshole that put my family through hell, and couldn’t even deal with the guilt. He is no father to me, just a ghost who found someone better to haunt.

“Alice, I know we’ve been through a lot,” His voice seems desperate. I snort. “And I know I haven’t been the best father, even from a difference. But I really want to re-connect with you and your brothers. I know Marc will talk to me, he’s a good kid, and so are you. I know I can trust you, right? You were always so strong, so organised.”

I simply stand there, mouth gaping, feeling like a fat wad of bile is stuck in the back of my throat. I want to say something, to tell him how I feel, but all I feel right now is numb. I don’t even feel angry.

“How have you been?”

Until now.

I frown, my teeth clenching and my fists balling. I pull an outraged face, trying to find my words for a moment before I let fly.

“Oh, I’ve been great daddy thanks for asking! My life has been so fucking perfect since you left mom for some American bimbo with a tighter pussy. Fine, actually, right up until my tuck-tail father decided to call me out of nowhere and ask me how I am. What the fuck is up with that, anyway? You think you can just waltz in here after everything you did and insert yourself back in my life? Our lives? If I’m strong, what the fuck do you think your disappearance did to Marc, or Gille? How dare you call me? How dare you act as if nothing happened, you two-faced, cheating, sadistic asshole!”

By the end I’m shrieking, and I break off suddenly, my heart beating fast and my breathing rapid. I glance around, and see Kat leaning over the back of the couch, watching me with a concerned expression. Eli is still eating his sausage, eyebrow raised.

“I’m sorry.” Comes my father’s response. The weakness in his voice is the only thing that stops me from exploding again, and I press the cellphone closer to my ear. “I’m sorry for everything I did, Alice, honestly. But I have a favour to ask. I know this is entirely inappropriate and I don’t deserve your help but I wouldn’t be asking if it wasn’t important.”

I simply wait for him to continue, slightly intrigued but mostly cautious.

“Please talk to Gille. I know you and Marc will come, but Gille probably won’t unless you talk to him. Please, I need all my children at my wedding.”

I blink, taking a moment to absorb my father’s words.

What?” I gasp, “This.. This about your wedding? Gille can do whatever the fuck he wants but.. What gave you the idea that Marc and I would come?”

My father is silent for a moment, I can practically hear his brain working. He has always had a hard time wrapping his head around people disagreeing with him.

“I don’t think you understand.” His voice is suddenly hard, controlled. “I can’t show up at my own wedding without my children. Do you know how that would look in front of Sunni’s family? You’re coming, and so are you’re brothers. I may not have spoken to you in a while, but I am still your father, and I say you come to this wedding and you’ll try your darndest to convince your brothers to do the same.”

This wedding is the last place I want to go. I have no desire to watch my runaway father legally wed the woman who ruined my life, and tore apart my family. I don’t want to go to California, I don’t want to meet Sunni. I want to say no.

“I can’t go.” The words are out of my mouth before I can even think. Why did I do that? I don’t have an excuse.

“Why not?” He sounds more angry than sad.

I search desperately for some reason as to why I can’t attend the wedding, My face changing to a pained expression before I blurt you:

“I’m going to China.”

 

“Well that was stressful,” I drop myself on the couch once I’ve hung up, tossing my phone on the table. I feel exhausted mentally but my body is all wound up, my muscles tensed and shaking. Kat rubs my knee sympathetically.

“What did he want?” Eli asks, wiping his hands on a napkin. He brushed the last of the crumbs from his pants to the floor and I scowl at him until he kicks them under the couch.

Rolling my eyes, I respond:

“His fucking wedding. I thought he was calling to ask if I was going, but he had just assumed I was, and wanted me to convince Gille to come too. He was worried about what Sunni’s family would think if not all his kids showed up to his wedding.” I pause, take a deep breath, “Well, the way things are going, he won’t have any of his kids there.”

“You decided not to go?” Kat asks, incredulous, “How did he take it?”

“Not well,” I sigh, “But he can’t really do anything about it. I told him I’m going to China. It’s a little white lie because I said I have to pay for the trip, which I don’t, and that’s why I can’t afford to go.”

“So you’ve decided you’re going?” Eli asks, “To China I mean.”

I take another deep breathe, scratching my arm absent mindedly. I had only really said that to get my dad off my back, but the more I think about the wedding, the more attractive China seems.

“I don’t know,” I say finally. I rub my forehead, pinching my eyebrows together, and trying to make sense of the jumbled mess in my head. Too much has happened lately, I just need to take a nice long nap.

“Can we just talk about something else?” I ask as Kat pulls my nails away from my skin. I’ve left a red mark on my forearm from the nervous scratching. “It’s all just super stressful.”

“Of course,” Kat replies, just as Eli’s phone goes off with a text message. We both look over as he reads it, watching his eyes scan the screen. After a moment his face breaks into a grin.

“I think I know exactly what you need,” Eli says with a satisfied smirk. I raise an eyebrow, waiting for him to continue as he slides his phone back into his pocket. “You wanna get drunk?”

“Where?” Kat asks, before I can answer.

“Jake’s; he’s having a party.”

Kat and I exchange a look before we both turn back to Eli, grinning.

“Fuck yes.”

* * *

Loud music with low bass assaults our ears as we pull up in front of Jake’s new, expensive-looking house. His parents just moved in, and I guess tonight they’re out in Toronto, picking the best possible counter tops. Good for us; this was exactly what we needed.

As we step out of Eli’s silver convertible, it’s evident what the group of four or five teenagers are doing to our right; the smell of pot is strong and pungent, but we’ll save that for later. As we walk up the steps, the music gets louder, and practically slams into our chests as soon as we open the door. Before the door even closes, we hear a high pitched squeal, and long streak of blonde is all I see before I’m swept into a bone crushing hug.

I forgot what going to Jake’s house entails; Katelyn, his annoying little sister.

She’s not little to us, we were in the same grade in High School, but she’s one of those people who will act like a five-year old even when they’re in an old-age home. She wears way too much eye make-up, and her long blonde hair would be pretty if she didn’t straighten it all the time, which leaves it thin and stringy when it fall around her face. The skirt she wears now is too short, and is a light blue with frills along the edging, causing it to puff out around her thighs. I look up to see her face split into an ear to ear grin, but she’s not looking at me.

Oh yeah, that’s one more thing I forgot; Katelyn has a huge crush on Eli.

“I’m so glad you guys could make it!” She squeals, turning to Eli and Kat and giving them the same hug she gave me. I idly rub my ribs where I’m pretty sure something cracked.

“Yeah,” Eli says as katelyn pulls away, giving me a meaningful look over her shoulder. We pull off our shoes, shuffling out of the way for a giggling couple who make their way past us and up the stairs, completely unashamed. I simply shrug at Kat before padding down the hall in our stockinged feet. The music seems to be coming from the basement, as sure enough, as we pull the door open, not only does the beat become even louder, but it’s suddenly mixed with laughing and teenager’s raucous voices.

Eli, Kat and I know about half the people in the basement, a bit more. Immediately to our left, a group of college boys and some girls from our high school are playing beer pong, and I avoid the sticky puddle on the concrete behind one of them, B-lining for the group sitting on the leather couch in the corner. I see my close friend, Emily, sitting on her boyfriend James’s lap. Beside him is the pathetic Sam, who hits on everybody’s boyfriend and says she has a crush on everyone. Right now her hand rests dangerously close to James’s crotch. Beside Sam is Connor, a very tall, toned blonde from the year above us; Kat really likes him. Across from them, curled against the wall is Monique and Stephanie, fairly new additions to our friend group, and Mo’s boyfriend, Graeme, who appears to be just leaving to get another beer.

As we near the group, Emily shoots up, hopping over to us and wrapping her arms around my shoulders. We were very close in our last year of high school, but she went off to college last September for Visual Art, and I haven’t seen her much. I’m slightly annoyed that she didn’t tell me she was in town, but I hold my tongue and smile.

“Come on,” Emily urges, pulling on mine and Kat’s wrists, Eli slowly following behind with Katelyn, “We’ve got Sourpuss.”

Half an hour later my head feels satisfactorally fuzzy, after we’ve all settled down on the couches and chatted. The basement has quieted down a little, the majority of people having gone upstairs to bedrooms or the kitchen, and if not they went outside for a smoke. The group of college guys at the ping-pong table have left, and right now a couple are pressed against the edge, mouths exploring each other’s bodies, hands in shirts. Even after two beers, half a cooler and 4 shots of Sourpuss, I can still see the guy’s raging boner. Oddly, I feel my own south regions twinge. Where’s Kris when you need him?

Connor, who’s sitting across from us with Kat on a dirty old couch dragged up from some corner of the basement, begins talking about his University classes. He’s going into his third year of a Global Food Management course, and he apparently has an upcoming trip to Ethiopia that he is very much looking forward to. The thought that I’m still stuck in this dead-end town forces me to gulp down almost half of my third can of beer, and I feel my head swim as I pull it back from my lips.

Since I was young, I’ve always had trouble making decisions. I’ve never been an easy-going, go-with-the-flow kind of person. I want to make sure what I do is perfect for me, but that’s a difficult thing to know at 18 years old. Right now I think I’ll study Nursing, but who knows?

I take another gulp.

I wonder vaguely if I should go eat something. The music is starting to hurt my ears.

“Yeah, Alice has a new boyfriend, didn’t you hear?” Eli’s voice comes from my right, and I turn to see him smirking at me, and Emily turns to smile at me.

“Oh! You didn’t tell me you had a new boyfriend! What’s his name, what’s he like?” She begins to gush, adjusting her position on James’s lap so that she’s facing more my direction. Before I can open my mouth, however, Eli begins talking again.

“He’s some famous Chinese pop star. He’s like an Asian version of Justin Bieber, except he was in a band that he ran away from. That’s why he’s in Canada. He met Alice at the Diner and took her home to fuck her. I guess using women for sex is a Chinese thing, eh?” Eli has had a lot to drink to, I can tell, but the way he’s talking about Kris makes me want to punch him. He rambles on, “Oh, and he wants to take her to China and parade her around in front of the press like some kind of trophy. Sick, huh? She wasn’t going to go but now she kind of has to because she used the trip as an excuse not to go to her dad’s wedding. I wonder how those skinny Asian people will respond to their favourite pop star banging her fat ass.”

I can feel, through my cloudy brain, my nails digging into my palms. I watch as Emily and James stare at me, eyes wide. Emily’s are full of drunken concern, James’s with pity. Eli smirks at me, and suddenly, I want to be anywhere but here. I push myself off the couch, unsteady on my feet, and stumble towards the door. I hear Emily call after me, but her voice sounds muffled. I grab the bottle of Sourpuss on my way out, not giving a fuck.

The stairs are a struggle. My legs feel weak, but the anger in my veins keeps me from falling backwards. I lean against the wall to my right and half crawl my way up the stairs. I open the door into the hallway, hearing voices and laughter as I stumble into the kitchen, bottle of booze swinging by my side, trying to muster up all the dignity I have left. Taking a swig as I walk past a group sitting around the counter, I see Jake, the host. I reach around him and grab a slice of cold pepperoni pizza, and continue walking out into the night, ‘za in one hand, delicious smelling booze in the other.

As I open the door to the backyard, the cold air hits me, and I think about turning around and getting a sweater. The thought is pushed from my mind immediately by the smell of pot drifting over from a grouping of trees to my right, and I make a B-line for the group of laughing teenagers. On the way, I shove the pizza in my mouth, wash it down with Sourpuss. When I’m almost there, my phone buzzes in my back pocket.

Emily: 12:46- R Uu ok?

I ignore the text, notice I have another one. I open it up.

Kris: 10:13- Hey baby, how are you?

To this one I type the first thing that pops into my mind.

Sent: 12:47- Am i beeautifol?

Feeling immensely satisfied with myself, I close up my phone and head over to the pot smoking group. My head is swimming, and I almost trip on a rock before I reach them. I don’t recognize half the group, but I’m drunk enough to not care. I squeeze in between two foul-smelling guys, shouldering my way into the circle just as the bong passes from my neighbours hands to mine. I clutch at it, putting down the sourpuss bottle at my feet so I can hold the lighter. Wrapping my lips around the head, I suck in the sweet smoke, feel it fill my lungs, hold it there. Let it out.

I don’t remember passing the bong on, but when I open my eyes it’s two people over. I reach down and grab my bottle again, unscrew the lid and take a swig. The neighbour to my right gives me a concerned look, but simply shrugs and looks away, focusing on the bong that is once again being passed to him.

Just as I’m readying for my second drag, a guy across the group calls out.

“Hey!” He steps forward, snatching the class contraption from my hands. I shut off the lighter and gaze at the guy in front of me. My vision is blurry, and at times I can see two dealers. I want another swig of booze but I don’t feel the heavy bottle in my hand.

“Only people who paid me for the pot are smoking,” He says, frowning at me, “Get out ‘o here you drunk mooch.”

Unaffected by his insults, I throw the lighter down on the ground in the middle of the circle, and barely stay long enough to watch three people lurch for it before I scoop up my bottle and hobble off. Halfway back to the house, however, my foot hits something hard and I pitch forward, my hands going out in front of me to catch my fall. I’m vaguely aware of my leg hitting something hard, but the alcohol in my veins helps numb the pain, and I simply roll back over on my back.

I’m not sure how long I was lying there for, but when my phone rings in my back pocket, the ground seems significantly colder and the pot-smoking group has disappeared. My hands fumble to retrieve my phone, and by the time I flip it open I’m half expecting the call to be dead. Just to make sure, I ask.

“ ‘Elloo?”

“Alice? Is that you? Fuck! Are you ok? I’ve been texting you for the last two hours, why haven’t you responded? Alice?!” An urgent male voice comes streaming through the ear-piece and I have to pull the phone away from my pounding head. Something in the back of my brain tells me the low Chinese flavoured voice belongs to Kris, my boyfriend.

“Hiiii Krisseu. I’m fine, don’t –hic- worry.” I grin, rolling back onto my side. The grass is cold and damp, and I roll onto my hands and knees.

“Where are you?” And then, “.. Are you drunk?

“No, I’m –hic- buzzed.” I reply, putting a fair amount of attitude on the last word, “Eli said he wouldn’t let me get drunk.”

“Fuck Eli, you’re hammered,” Even through my foggy brain I can tell he’s angry. A low whimper escapes me as I stand up, a dull pain throbbing in my low right calf.

“Nooo, I don’t –hic- fuck Eli that yoouurr job,” I giggle at that, thinking I’ve made a joke about me and Kris but not realising I’ve failed miserably.

“I- what?” Kris sounds confused, “You know what, never mind. Where are you, Alice?”

“Going home,” I articulate as I slowly shuffle towards the front of the house. I’ve suddenly had enough of this party; my head is pounding and I can feel my stomach sloshing. I try my best to watch for rocks and potholes, but my vision is swimming before me and the grass looks like water.

“What? No! Alice, don’t get in a car! I’ll come pick you up, where are you?!” he’s now yelling, panic seaping into his voice. I giggle.

“You’re cute when you’re angry,” I cover my mouth as I burp, feeling a hot acidic substance burn the back of my throat. I swallow it down.

“Alice, I’ll drive around this whole bloody town if I have to; WHERE ARE YOU?!” Kris’s voice resonates through my speaker and I pull the phone away again.

“Holy shhhh okay, I’m on… John Street I think? It’s a house party,” My giggling has gone away; now I just feel sick. I want to curl up in my bed and go to sleep.

“Okay, okay fine. Stay there I’m coming to pick you up,” I hear keys jingling in the background before he hangs up. I cringe from the loud sound.

Looking down at my phone, I see I have 13 messages. Frowning, I open the first.

Seven are from Kris.

Kris- 12:50 – What? Of course you are. Are you okay? What brought this on?

Kris- 12:59 – Alice? You there?

Kris- 1:13- Are you okay? Are you drunk?

Kris- 1:45- Hey, I’m getting worried.

Kris- 1:49- Alice, pick up your phone.

Kris- 1:53 – Alice, are you okay?? Why aren’t you picking up your phone???

Kris- 2:01- PICK UP YOUR FUCKING PHONE NOW. ARE YOU DEAD?

The light from the screen is hurting my eyes, and I squint. I don’t bother responding to Kris’s texts, instead I open one of the others as I settle down on against the wall of the house.

Two more texts from Emily.

Emily- 1:03- Yo, Alice, you sure you’re ok? You haven’t come back down.

Emily- 1:34- Hello?

One text from Kat.

Kat- 1:24- Hey, Eli says he’s sorry. Come back down please, we’re worried. Where are you? Connor and I looked upstairs but you weren’t there. Did you walk home?

Walking home, that sounds like a really good idea. I can still hear the music from the basement, but the voices have died down. I suddenly feel very lonely. I think of Emily and James, probably curled up on the couch downstairs, not even worrying about me. Eli has probably hooked up with someone tonight, and I can almost hear his moans as someone shoved their cock up his ass. And I doubt Kat and Connor went upstairs to look for me, unless they thought I was in one of the spare bedrooms.

I hoist myself up, pushing against the brick walls of the house as I stumble to my feet. Grabbing my phone before it falls, I stumble to the front of the house, leaning against a thin tree in the middle of Jake’s front lawn. A few more steps and I’m on the sidewalk.

Surprisingly, it’s harder to walk on the concrete than it was on the bumpy grass. I look down at my feet, watching then swim in and out of focus as they disappear under my body, one after the other. Little circles of light surround me every time I walk beneath a street light, and my multiple shadows makes my head hurt even more. I lose my footing, stumbling against a concrete pole, just barely keeping myself upright. My eyelids feel like lead, and I supress another burp. Sliding down the pole to sit on the grass, I realise my hands are shaking.

I’m not sure how long I sat there, leaning against the street lamp with my head back, eyes closed, drifting in and out of consciousness. By the time headlights washed over me, it felt like 5 minutes and 5 hours at the same time. I just sat there, head spinning, barely enough energy to open my eyes. Distantly I hear a car door slam to my right, and warm hands were grasping my upper arms, shaking me.

Opening my eyes, I see Kris’s face looming over mine, concern and something else sprawled over his face.

“Come on, let’s get you home,” He says, voice soft as he helps me up. I stumble off the curb, leaning most of my weight on Kris’s shoulder. I mumble something about my leg hurting, and Kris readjusts my weight before opening the passenger door and gently placing me in the car. I reach out to close the door, my hand stretching into darkness automatically, but long, slender fingers place my hand back on my lap before reach around and close the door for me.

For the first couple minutes of the car ride I drift in and out of sleep, my head leaning against the window. Suddenly, Kris’s voice cut through the silence.

“Are you happy, Alice?” His voice sounds sad, and I frown as I pull my head back up.

“Yes,” Comes the automatic response.

“Really? Is that why you felt the need to get wasted?”

That stumps me, and I look down at my hands in my lap, the crease between my eyebrows deepening. Something from tonight surfaces.

“Eli said I’m fat and ugly.” It comes out as more of a question, and I hear Kris sigh beside me. I look over to see him frowning at the road.

“Eli’s an idiot. You’re beautiful, Alice, don’t let anyone tell you any differently. Eli is jealous of you, as he should be. But someone insulting you shouldn’t drive you to drink like that.” He sounds like a therapist. However, his soft voice gives me chills, and I pull my knees to my chest, trying to ignore the sudden heartbeat between my legs. Alcohol has always made me horny.

Smiling, I mutter a thank you, before leaning my head back against the window and drifting off to sleep.

The car ride couldn’t have taken more than five or ten minutes, but by the time Kris shook me awake in the hotel parking lot, my head was marginally clearer. Or at least I thought so until I stumble out of the car and fell to my knees.

“Alice!” Kris rushed around the car, immediately pulling me off the ground.

“I’m o- I’m okay,” I slur, leaning against him once again. We make our way sloppily across the parking lot, Kris supporting more than half my body weight for most of the way there. Luckily, the hotel is deserted; even the receptionist is missing. We make our way to the elevators in silence.

The ride up is awkward; I lean against Kris’s shoulder, his arm around my waist. I hiccup once, my whole body twitching suddenly, and I feel Kris tense. He’s nervous, and worried.

“You called me beautiful,” I recall, and I feel his hand trace gentle circles on my waist.

“Because you are,” he says simply as the elevator comes to a stop. I try to walk on my own, feeling silly because I have to depend so much on Kris. I wobble and stumble toward, forcing him to hold me tighter. I clench my jaw in irritation. Why did I have to get so drunk?

Kris’s steady hands as he unlocks the door are a wonder to me, and before long we’ve hobbled into the bedroom. Kris sits me down on the edge of the bed, and I begin pulling my socks off. He shuffles around the room before leaving again. I suddenly have a great idea.

By the time Kris comes back, I’ve taken off everything but my underwear, and I’m lying on my back against the pillows. I stare straight at Kris’s face, and register his surprise before he blinks it away. In his hands is a glass of water and a small white pill. The sight of it triggers something in the back of my head but I can’t place it.

“Prove it,” I say, my voice low and quiet, practically a whisper.

Kris frowns, and looks away, moving around the bed to stand in front of me.

“What are you talking about, Alice?” he sounds tired, and irritated. Normally that would mean now is a bad time, but my drunken self just ploughs right on. I lean forward on my knees and shuffle towards him on the edge of the bed.

“You said I’m beautiful,” I explain, reaching for his belt. I can see his package outlined behind the dark denim of his jeans, and my fingers sloppily start pulling at his waistband, “So prove it.”

Pale, slender fingers catch mine, and I look up into Kris’s shadowed eyes. His hands are rough as he pushed the water glass into my hands, forcing my fingers to grasp it.

“Open your mouth,” He commands, and I don’t have much choice but to obey. He places the small white pill on my tongue, and pushing my mouth closed with his fingers.

“Take that, and then go to sleep,” he says, turning away and walking towards the closet. I swallow the Advil, chase it down with a big gulp of water. I don’t realise how thirsty I am until the glass is empty. I place it back on the bedside table.

“But,” I begin, shuffling over on my knees to follow Kris’s movement around the room, “I want-”

“You’re drunk, Alice, I’m not having sex with you.” He cuts me off, voice sharp. I frown, feeling hurt against all reason. I just sit there and watch him as he pulls a pale beige t-shirt from the closet and turns around. He silently lifts my arms and pulls the shirt over my head, before pulling back the sheets and blankets. I wordlessly climb under then, feeling defeated. I curl up in a ball, pulling the sheets over me as Kris stands above me, watching. I can see the frown despite the shadow.

When I’m all tucked in, he leans down to kiss me. I reach my lips up, feeling hopeful once more, but instead his hands grab my cheeks and his lips touch my forehead ever so gently before pulling away. My head falls back against the pillow, my eyes closing, disappointed. Through the tingling currently numbing my body, I can feel the lead weight return to my stomach. Clicking the light off, I hear Kris’s footsteps shuffle against the floor.

“Goodnight, Alice.” He says, low but clear, just before leaving the room and closing the door behind him.

 

Hi Hi, author Alice here 🙂 for the full story, visit http://www.asianfanfics.com/story/view/773870/fucking-kris-originalcharacter-kris-oc0-exo000kris

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Love you all! ❤

Fucking Kris- Chapter 9

The whole way to Kris’s hotel, I felt more or less calm, but now that I’m sitting in the parking lot, my heart won’t cease it’s dramatic rhythm. I reach into my purse sitting on the passenger seat and extract my phone, looking at the text again:

Kris, 9:48: Hey can you come over tonight? We need to talk.

I sit for a few moments, twiddling my phone in my hand before shutting off the engine and climbing out of the car. It takes me longer to lock the door because my hands are shaking, but I eventually succeed and make my way across the parking lot. My brain is firing like a gun.

What if I’ve done something wrong? Why would he break up with me mere days after we became official? Maybe he’s moving back to China. Maybe he met someone else. Maybe this whole thing was just some scheme to ensure his safety in Canada and now that things are settled her has no need for me.

My breathing continues to accelerate as I walk past the receptionist with a nod and step into the elevator. I’ve been here enough times it’s mere muscle memory, so my brain can continue it’s rampage.

This is it, I think. It’s overNo one ever says “we need to talk” unless they’re dumping someone. I said it with my ex-es and now Kris is saying it with me.I slump against the wall, shoving my hands in my pockets. My heart has finally slowed down, I’ve accepted my fate, but I almost wish it were racing again because now it just hurts. I feebly run my hand through my hair and straight my shirt just as the elevator dings, announcing I have reached my desired floor.

I step out, hearing the doors close behind me before setting off down the hall. I try my hardest to wipe my mind clear while I make my way to Kris’s door, but the thoughts just keep flying. I glance up at the sound of a door closing, and find Kris’s mom leaving her room, purse in hand. She smiles at me warmly, and I try to smile back, but I get the unfortunate feeling it’s more like a grimace. A worried frown creases her forehead, but I can tell she tries to hide it. She knows, I think, a sick feeling settling in my stomach. We pass, and I listen to her footsteps down the hall, and a few paces later I hear her rhythm change as she turns around to glance back at me. Surprisingly, the thought makes me angry.

I stand in front of the white metal door, steadying my breath before knocking. I would usually just open the door but for some reason I feel formalities are in order. I close my eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath and extend my arm. However, just before I knock, I hear the knob click and the door swings open before me, taking me by surprise. Kris’s face peers around the side, beaming.

Confusion floods my brain. Why is he smiling? I thought these affairs are supposed to be solemn? He opens the door fully and I step in, slightly dazed. I hear the door click shut behind me and my brain registers a second noise; the lock. Kris comes back in my view, still smiling like a little kid on Christmas morning. I stare blankly at him.

Slowly Kris’s smile fades, and his expression turns to concern.

“Are you feeling okay?” He asks, reaching out to take my hands in his, “You look sick.”

“I’m okay,” I chance the best smile I can muster, “What did you want to talk about?”

“Um, first let’s address the fact that you look like you’re about to faint,” Concern has merged to panic and Kris’s eyes are wide as he pulls me over to the couch and sits me down. He crouches in front of me so his eyes are level with mine, “Jesus, Alice, what’s wrong? You’re pale as hell.”

“Well, I-” I struggle to find the right words, my breath catching in my throat, “Aren’t you-?”

I take a deep breathe, pushing away my confusion. Well, we’d might as well get to the point.

“I thought you’re breaking up with me.” I say simply, and it comes out as more of a question than a statement, but I bravely look into his eyes nonetheless. AT first Kris can’t seem to decide on an emotion. I watch pain, confusion and surprise flit across his face before a smile spreads and he settles on amusement. Only once he closes his eyes from laughter does our gaze break, and my then I’m frowning in irritation.

“What?” I ask, crossing my arms across my chest. Kris doesn’t respond, just holds his side while crouching infront of me. I sit and watch him laugh, leaning dangerously over to the side, wondering what I’ve done that was so funny. I can’t help the relief flooding through me though; it doesn’t look like a break-up is where we’re going.

Suddenly Kris stands up in front of me, and before I’ve even follow him with my eyes he’s sat down beside me, pulling on my waist so that I’m leaning into his lap in an awkward yet comfortable position. He urges my chin up with his fingers so that I’m looking at his face. I feel my cheeks flush.

“Why would you think I was breaking up with you?” he asks, his voice low and concerned. My brain is having trouble with keeping up with all his emotions; concern, panic, amusement, now we’re back at concern?

“Well, you texted, “we need to talk””  I explained, avoiding his gaze. I’m suddenly feeling foolish. I shift so that my legs are draped across his, and my back is leaning against the pillow behind me. Experience states the further I am from his smoldering gaze the less cloudy my brain is.

“Yeah, because we do need to talk,” Kris furrows his eyebrows in confusion, obviously not understanding that what he sent usually only means one thing.

“About?” I urge, wanting to get to the bottom of this.

“Well, I wanted to talk to you about this new movie deal I was offered,” He says sheepishly; this time he’s the nervous one avoiding my gaze. I wonder what that’s about. “You mean a lot to me, so I wanted to talk to you about it. I didn’t like how I never got to see you when mom and I were figuring out the lawsuit, so I thought if you were included in this you-”

I cut him off with a sharp smack to his abdomen. My mouth is gaping open and I’m staring at him with wide, incredulous eyes. Kris looks up at me with shocked puppy eyes, rubbing his stomach where I hit him, despite the fact that his hard abs couldn’t be even remotely hurt.

“You nearly gave me a heart attack because you wanted to talk to me about a movie deal?” I exclaim, laughter creeping into my voice. I slump back against the pillow, laughing and rolling my head back. My body seems weak with relief. I reach up and run both my hands through my hair, groaning.

“Ugh, no one ever says “we need to talk” unless their breaking up with someone, you big Chinese goof.” I say, gifting him another smack, this time on the shoulder. He’s still staring at me with wide eyes, but I can see a smile slowly growing on his lips. I lean my head in and kiss where I hit his arm, and then lean my forehead against it, my arm resting on his shoulder. I giggle and catch my breath, closing my eyes and just floating.

Suddenly my body is being shifted, strong hands on my waist and thigh, moving me so I’m lying on my back, Kris hovering over me. He’s smiling. He leans down to kiss me and I respond, wrapping my hands around the back of his neck. He pulls away, and rests his knees between mine.

“How could you think I was breaking up with you?” He asks, leaning down to kiss me lightly again, “I love you too much.”

I look back at him, shocked; we haven’t said the L word yet. I didn’t think we were this far. My brain spins, ecstasy and panic mixing together. Before I can do anything, my mouth says:

“I love you too.” I’m surprised by how honest and natural it feels to say that. I watch Kris’s face as relief floods him, and can feel his happiness against my thigh. I smile, and pull him down for another kiss, deeper this time.

We kiss for a while longer, Kris pressing his body against mine. He has a black decorative tear of fabric tied around his arm, with silver and leather bracelets wound around it, and I feel the metal biting against my skin. I can tell what he wants, but my mind won’t stop reeling, and after a while I pull away and sit up.

“Tell me about this movie deal.” I say, crossing my legs and watching like a little kid as Kris straightens himself out into a similar position to mine. He looks disgruntled to have had me stop, but always respects me when I want my space. He puts his knee up and rests his forearm on it.

“My mom got an e-mail this morning from a well-known Chinese movie director Xu Jinglei. She wants to work with me on a new movie she’s making, she offered me the lead,” He looks excited but worried at the same time, “My dad and my lawyer believe it’s a good idea, some positive media coverage to counter-act all this crap with SM, but my mom thinks it’s a horrible idea, that I should lay low before doing anything and deal with one thing at a time.”

He looks so conflicted it hurts my heart. I can tell he puts his mother’s opinion high on his list of priorities, but he also seems genuinely excited for the movie deal.

“Well, do you want to do it?” I ask, shifting closer and trying to catch his eye. He’s avoiding my gaze.

“Well, yeah.” He says, shrugging, “It’s a great opportunity for me to further my career and for people to see me as an actor, not just some machine part of a boy band.” That hurts. I frown.

“So you’ve decided you’re definitely not going back to EXO?” I ask. Will this deal worsen his situation with SM? I’m of half a mind to agree with his mother, that he should simply let everything blow over before he jumps into something else. I think he’s being a little hasty and head-strong, but I don’t say it.

Kris’s brow furrows, unfolding his legs and standing up before stalking away toward the window. “Yeah, I am.” He says, crossing his arms in front of his chest. “I thought I already made that pretty clear.”

Something’s made him angry, and there’s something else he isn’t telling me. I put my arms up in the air dramatically in a surrender position, mildly irritated.

“Okay, sorry! I was just asking, you don’t need to get your panties in a knot.” I snap, frowning at his silhouette against the window.

“You know, sometimes I wonder, Alice,” Kris begins, whipping around and stalking toward me, “Sometimes I wonder if you even care about me, or if you’re just another fucking fan!”

He puts the emphasis on the swear word, and it hits me hard; he rarely swears. I’m hurt, but most of all I’m pissed off.

“Excuse me? Where the hell did that come from?” I ask, standing up so I’m (almost) level with him. Despite my lesser height I stalk right up to him, nearly chest to chest and glare up at him. I register slight surprise on his face, but he’s still angry. “Use your fucking head, Yifan! Or Kris because I’m only a fan, right? God you can be so blind sometimes! You know, I didn’t ask you to invite me over to your apartment to bang me; you did that all on your own. Would a fan have waited around while you holed up with your mother to handle a lawsuit that terminated your participation in the band you assume I’m so crazy about? I have never once brought up EXO because I know it’s a sensitive topic for you! Yeah, I was a fan, sure, but not that I’ve met you, and you, Yifan, not Kris, I couldn’t care less about EXO, I just want what’s best for you.”

I’m shrieking at this point, fists balled up at my sides as I shout in his face. He frowns and turns away, walking back towards the window. I scoff.

“Or maybe I don’t, considering the way you’re acting.” I spit, pulling a disgusted face, “is it customary of your culture to be so goddamn judgemental?”

Kris rounds on me for that one, and I see the veins in his neck and forehead bulge.

“Insult me all you want, Alice, but don’t you dare insult my culture,” Kris shouts, his spit landing on my cheek; I wipe it away with disgust, “that’s racist.”

“So now you’re calling me racist?” I’m reeling, “What the hell? Where did this come from? You were fine a minute ago, now you’re suddenly acting fucking nuts! What are you not telling me, Yifan?”

I soften my voice at the end of my sentence; I’m worried. He doesn’t usually switch moods like this; something must be on his mind. I stand there for a few moments, watching him with wide eyes and an open expression. I want him to talk to me, not bottle everything up inside.

However, instead of sitting down and talking, the stubborn shit pulls this trick:

“Get your nose out of my business, Alice!” Yifan shouts; he’s still obviously just as angry.

My caring side exhausted, I start to feel my frustration build up in my throat. I’m one of those people who tears up when they get frustrated, which just makes the whole situation worse. I choke back my feelings.

“You know what, fine,” I say, waving my hand in front of me, “I’m fucking done. You want to come talk to me, let me know. Until then, don’t talk to me if you’re going to pull this shit.”

I turn around, grabbing my purse from the table on the way. I’m stalking toward the door, my bag swinging over my arm and I’m reaching for the doorknob when Kris steps in front of me. He extends his hand in haste, pressing it into me just above my breast and pushes me back with surprising force. I stumble backward, catch my balance, and then stare at him, offended.

“Did you just fucking push me?” I ask, sheer anger coursing through my veins now. If we were arguing before, this is a fight.

“Yea, I did.” Kris states, his face unreadable. The shadow of his eyebrows and hair blocks his eyes at this angle, and I can’t see what he’s thinking. I see a gleam in the darkness where his eyes are that makes me nervous. “You’re not leaving.”

“Excuse me?” I’m astounded; what the hell is wrong with him?

“I said,” he begins, taking a step toward me. I mirror it with an equal step back, “You’re not leaving yet.”

I walk toward him, planning to push him out of my way, but when I raise my hand he grabs my wrist with surprising speed, and twists it to the side. I gasp in pain.

Trying to pull my wrist from his grip just makes it worse, and to my horror I see a smirk spread across Kris’s face. Suddenly, he pulls me toward him using my arm, and catches my body around the waist with his right hand.

“Wha-” I let out in shock, but I’m cut off as Kris suddenly lowers his head and bites down hard on the side of my neck. A wave of jumbled emotions crashed through my brain, and I can’t do much but stand there shocked as Kris slowly but violently sucks on my skin. Subconsciously my hands reach up to his hair, and my eyes close as lust joins the murky waters of my mind. I feel my heart beat faster and his grip tightens on my waist, and I hear him groan softly.

Something surfaces, and I press my hands to Kris’s chest in a feeble attempt to push him away. He lets out a low growl, but he detaches from me nonetheless. Resting his forehead against mine, he stares into my eyes, something close to resignation hiding behind the dark. I feel his breathe on my face, and it’s immensely distracting. I almost lose my thought that I so weakly caught onto in the first place.

“Wha- Yifan, I,” I stutter, avoiding his gaze as I try to navigate the clouds in my head. I feel blood rushing to my cheeks, and I’m desperately trying to calm down the hectic beating of my heart, “I don’t understand.”

I look back at Kris in time to see him close his eyes, and feel a light sigh. He stays like that for a moment, while I simply gaze at him. This is just too weird.

“Please, just trust me?” he asks, opening his eyes again. I’m so confused, trust him with what? I don’t move for what feels like a lifetime, simply trying to process this new information. My mouth opens and closes a couple times, trying to form words my mind hasn’t found yet, but my body betrays me; against my better judgement, and before I even know what I’m doing, I nod.

Kris becomes a flurry of motion. For a split second I see a grin, but a moment later his face is buried in my neck once more, but this time his big hands are gripping my upper arms, and he forcefully steers be backward. I almost lose my balance, but for some reason I feel safe in his arms, nothing can hurt me now; that is, until Kris pushes me painfully into the dining table. I feel the polished wooden edge press against my butt, and I try to pull away but Kris suddenly pushes his hips against mine, jamming me in between him and the table. I let out a small sound in protest, but the pain only lasts a moment, and then his hands are on the backs of my thighs, half hoisting me, half knocking me on my back so I’m lying on the table. I feel my breath leave me in a violent huff.

Kris moves my legs so that they’re wrapped around his hips, my heels placed up on the edge of the table. He leans over me, grabbing both my wrists in one of his hands and wrenching them upward, causing new pain at my shoulders, but just as my body tenses in protest, Kris pushes his groin against mine, and I feel his erection through both our jeans. He begins grinding us together, rubbing despite the fact that both of us are still fully dressed. He catches my clit and I involuntarily let out a moan, causing him to press faster.

He moves his lips from my neck to my mouth, kissing a couple times before forcing his tongue in my mouth. I bite down on it, not violently but harder than I intended, and I feel Kris’s hands raise from my waist to my hair, and he pulls on it, yanking my head back so I’m looking at the wall behind us. The sharp pain at my scalp is mixing blurrily with the pleasure between my legs, and I feel his lips travel down my neck to my cleavage. Here he rips back my shirt, stretching the collar but I don’t care; he yanks down my bra cup, freeing my breast, and immediately begins sucking and biting at my nipple. I gasp, tightening my grip on his hair and arm, before feeling his free hand travel down past my belly button. I shift my back up when I realise he’s undoing my jeans, and we pause just long enough for him to pull of my pants before we start again. I can feel his heartbeat as he presses his chest against mine.

I reach down, feeling for the hem of his shirt, my fingertips brushing against the warm skin of his back before pulling the fabric up and above his head. I toss it somewhere off to my right, and Kris continues his grinding. I nibble on his lip, pulling it into my mouth and sucking it between my teeth. I hear him growl low in his throat before he moves his lips down to meet my neck again. I moan and dig my nails into his back, tightening the grip my thighs have on his hips.

I feel Kris’s mouth move up, biting my jaw and ear lobe before I hear a low whisper in my ear.

“Untie the bandana on my arm.” His breath is harsh, and I can hear the rashness of it as he tries to control his breathing. However, that was probably one of the weirdest things to say during foreplay, and I can’t help the puzzled look I give him. He looks at me, grunts, and shifts upwards, hovering above me and staring down. I watch back with wide eyes.

“Trust me,” He says, “You’ll like it.”

Cautiously, I reach over, at first with one hand and then with two, deftly untying the black strip of fabric on his arm, leaving the chains to slide down a couple inches before catching on his biceps. I hand him the bandana, and as he sit up to fiddle with it, untwisting it, I let my hands trail down his chest, brushing over his nipples, caressing the way his muscles dip and curve under my touch. I watch his abdomen tense as I near his groin, and I reach to undo his button, but suddenly his hand slaps mine away, quick and hard. I look up with wide eyes to see him glaring down at me.

“Not yet,” He mumbles, low but commanding, and I drop my eyes, blushing. I like this Kris. I smile to myself.

“You mean I can’t do this?” I say, and I reach out bluntly and grab his crotch, cupping his balls in my palms and feeling his impressive erection through the fabric. He grunts and twitches his hips involuntarily, and I trail my hands back up to tease his nipples. Before I can get there however, he groans low in his throat and leans back down over me, locking his elbows over my shoulders and trapping my hands between our bodies. His face is inches from mine.

“No, you can’t.” He growls, and then bends down to pull off my shirt. When he tosses it away, I adjust my bra so it’s covering my breast again; the way it was cutting across my nipple was uncomfortable.

“Sit up.” Kris demands, and I obey. He’s standing in front of me now, in between my legs which are dangling off the edge of the table. I see the untwisted bandana in his hand and wonder.

Before I can do much wondering however, he raises his hands and places the black fabric over my eyes, cutting off my sense of sight. I open my mouth to protest, but suddenly his lips are on mine, working to calm my nerves as his hands tie a knot behind my head. I can’t see anything through the fabric, not even a faint shadow, and I feel my heart beat faster. Kris’s lips place gentle, soothing kisses on my lips, and he shushes me.

I am helpless, sitting on the table with my legs open, in my bra and underwear with my eyes blocked off and I’ve never been more aroused. I can feel my heartbeat between my legs from all the blood pumping through, and I’m resting the urge to grind myself against the table or Kris. I clench my legs together, pressing my hands between my knees and sitting with my head down, waiting for the next thing to happen. I can’t even hear Kris. I cock my head to the side a bit.

Suddenly, I hear his voice, close beside my ear.

“Uh,” He groans, and I become aware of hands gripping my arms, “Why did you have to sit like that? It’s too much, Alice.”

And with that, forceful hands grab my wrist and tug me violently from the table. I stumble along, feeling my bare feet pad on the floor as I’m dragged behind Kris, his long legs setting a fast pace. I trip over my feet, reaching my hand out and catching skin under my nails as I brace myself against his back, my hand falling away at the back of his jeans as I try to follow.

We must have made it to the bedroom, because I’m suddenly flipped around, hearing my hair whoosh by my ears as I’m pushed down on the bed. I scramble up to the head post, my heart beating fast. I can’t hear anything, and Kris is no longer touching me.

A noise to my left makes me turn, even though I still can’t see. It sounds like metal clicking, and then fabric swishing against itself. I frown, trying to place it.

I’m still wondering when I feel the bed dip as Kris climbs on to my left, and a hand takes my wrists and pulls them behind me. My heart beats faster as I realise where this is going. I feel the belt wrap around one wrist, then the other, then both, and when I think that’s it and try to move away, I realise I’ve also been tied to the bedpost. I’m simply sit there, pressing my knees together with my hands tied behind my back and blind folded when I hear the sound of a zipper being undone. For some reason, I’m suddenly nervous.

As I listen to Kris shimmy out of his pants beside me, I realise how cold the air is on my skin, and I fight a shiver. I feel goosebumps raise on my skin, and I pull my knees in closer.

Just then, without any warning, I feel something lightly pressing against my underwear, right above where my clit is. Taken by surprise I tense all my muscles, inhaling sharply. I can literally hear Kris’s grin as he presses his finger down, rubbing me in a circle. My legs go lax, opening slightly as my arousal turns to a carnal need.

“Tell me you want it,” I hear Kris’s voice against my ear, demanding me. I pause for a moment, feeling the tension, before nodding.

“No, I want to hear you say it,” He says, this time harsher. He bites down on my neck and I yelp.

“Yes,” I pant, “I-I want it.”

“What do you want?” he growls against my earlobe. Despite how cheesy this sounds, my body is responding, and I shift my hips to try and give myself the smallest amount of friction.

“I want you to fuck me.” I say simply.

His body shifts, and suddenly he’s violently pushing my legs apart, his hands running sensitive trails along the insides of my thighs before pulling off my underwear. I feel so exposed and helpless, but I can’t help noticing that it feels amazing. The blindfold has heightened my sense of touch and hearing, and every breath feels like it could push me to climax.

Kris leans back over me, kissing my mouth and biting along my jaw as his thumb presses down on my clit again, making me twitch involuntarily. I grind my hips up into his thumb, needing his touch, needing a release. I can feel my blood pumping, and my abdomen is burning from being clenched so long. I need this.

Without any warning, without me even hearing him take his pants off, Kris pushes inside me. My muscles clench in response, and I hear him groan, quickly adopting a fast pace. He forces my legs apart, resting on of his hands on my left knee, the other on the inside of my right thigh. My sight being eliminated heightens all my other senses, and I can feel every tiny movement down there. It isn’t long before my body is quivering.

Kris moves his hands, sliding them down my legs. He places one thumb on top of my clitoris, his fingers bracing against my pelvis, pressing hard. He puts his other thumb atop of the first and the pressure begins to hurt, until he slams into me again, his body pressing his fingers against my clit quickly and violently, sending a shot of pleasure up my spine. I shriek in surprise, my breath coming out strangled, pain and pleasure almost inseparable. He hits me again, and again, and quickly I feel the rhythm building inside me, my muscles coil in a tight knot.

I shift my hands in the belt, wanting to reach up and touch Kris, or stretch, but the uncomfortableness of the position only makes the release more appealing. Too close to climax to care, I simply clutch the bed sheets behind me, scratching at my own skin, panting, feeling sweat beading on my forehead. Kris continues to thrust, keeping his fingers in place, pressing so hard it hurts in all the right ways. Each thrust sends a new wave of pleasure through me, building one by one.

Suddenly, I feel my muscles clench, and my hips buck up against my will. I moan and gasp, my orgasm hitting me as violently as Kris’s thrusting. I open my mouth in a silent scream, my entire body becoming consumed with pleasure, and I’m vaguely aware of Kris following my lead as all my muscles tense up. After what was probably the longest and more violent orgasm I’ve ever had, my body finally lets up, and I collapse back down on the sheets. My arms are pulled above me in an awkward position, but I don’t care, the pain is welcome. By the time Kris is out of me I still haven’t caught my breath, and the aftershocks are still hitting me.

I lay there for a while, hearing Kris shuffle around the room, feeling my heart beat return to normal. I feel the bed dip and Kris leans his knee on it, and feel his skin against my wrists as he unties the belt. I reach up once my hands are free and pull off the bandana, the sudden light hurting my eyes, making me squint. I hear Kris chuckle beside me, and turn to stick out my tongue. I feel his slide under the covers, and I follow up, tucking my warm body under warmer sheets. I slide over to him, burrowing my face between his neck and the pillow, hiding from the light. I like the feel of my skin against his. I smile.

We lay like this for a while, both of us sleepy, Kris drawing lazy shapes on my waist. A thought occurs to me, burrowed in Kris’s neck.

“You wanted to talk about the movie, didn’t you?” I ask, my voice muffled by the pillow.

“Yes,” He says, and I can hear the uncertainty in his voice. He sounds tired, and the shapes on my skin are becoming sloppier.

“I think you should do whatever you want,” I say, tucking my arms a little bit closer to his chest, and curling my feet against his. “I mean, if you want to do the movie, it’s ultimately your choice. Your parents and your lawyer can give their opinion all they like, but in the end it’s you who needs to decide.”

I feel Kris smile against my cheek, and he leans down to kiss my shoulder lightly.

“That’s sweet, but I didn’t actually want your opinion,” He says. I frown, not only confused but a bit taken aback by his bluntness. Well then. “I’ve already decided I’m going to do it.”

“Then what did you want to talk about?” I ask.

“Well,” Kris begins, “I want you to come to China with me when I shoot it.”

Fucking Kris- Chapter 8

A few days pass, and Kris and I see little of each other. I’m busy with work, as one of our waitresses recently quit, and Kris is concentrating on working out the lawsuit, with help from his mom. For two days straight I didn’t hear from him, save good morning and goodnight texts; that really tested my feelings. I didn’t realise just how much I liked him until his company was elsewhere and I felt alone. However, that was only two days he spent holed up in his hotel room with his mom, bending over papers and making phone calls, and I didn’t want to stress him out. We had “I missed you” sex when I came over the day after (by then my period was a thing of the past) and both of us were satisfactorily replenished of the other’s company.

It has been four days since our date night, and I’m sitting at my computer, scrolling down tumblr. I got a text about five minutes ago from Kris asking if I wanted to Skype; I obviously said yes. I see a link to EXO’s 2014 Happy Camp video and hesitate to click on it, not sure if it’s a good idea. I’ve sort of stayed away from EXO since Kris and I started dated, it feels wrong to be a fan of theirs while all the shit between him and SM are going on, not to mention a few of the members had less than happy words to say over social media regarding the lawsuit. However, I can’t help accidently coming across gifs and clips of the video online, so I know that both Tao and Lay teared up after a touching video of all the members. I can honestly say I’ve spent a fair amount fretting over my conflict, and not in a petty fan girl way. Luckily, I’m saved the internal struggle by the sudden flashing coming from my Skype window, on which I click to find Kris calling me. Quickly fixing my hair and wiping under my eyes, I click “Accept Call”.

Despite the fact that we have Skyped many times over the past few days, my heart still skips a beat when I finally see Kris’s face. At first I think it was due to pure excitement, but now with everything going on I think my feelings have merged to simple relief to see him well and happy.

This time, my screens pops up to show a grotesquely large forehead covering the majority of my Skype window, with a hint of violet and the far edge of a fireplace mantle visible behind. I blink a couple times, expecting to see my boyfriend Kris, and instead I find this. However, half a second later, Kris finally realises that I can see him, and leans back with a shocked, involuntary noise. Realising as his hand falls to his side that he was leaning insanely close to the webcam so that he could fix his hair, I begin laughing. As if in response to my mocking, the lip of hair Kris must have been trying to make cooperate flopped back down in front of his eyes with determination, and the look in his big puppy eyes makes my knees weak. I smile at him, chuckling, while he frustratedly musses up the fringe of his hair so it sloppily hangs over his eyebrows like bangs, grinning at my endearing boyfriend.

“Long day, huh?” I chuckle, crossing my arms across my chest and leaning back in my chair. I realise with content surprise that my arm position pushes my breasts up nicely, and smile slyly to myself in the small webcam window that displays what Kris is seeing.

“Just boring,” He sighs, running his hand through his hair. He’s leaning on his left elbow, his head tilted to the side with his face resting in his palm. His long slender fingers are tangled in his hair, and I watch them tap at his scalp with restless want before I register that Kris is speaking.

“-working on filing an official court order to SM, but we need to gather solid proof of my complaint. Meanwhile dad’s making connections in China,” Kris sighs heavily again, and I feel my heart twinge for him. He’s only 24 and has a lot resting on his shoulders. I can see frown lines dug deep between his eyebrows, and his eyelids are drooping from exhaustion.

“Have your mom and dad managed to stop the drama long enough to sort out this shit?” I ask in an unimpressed tone. The entire half of the first day was spent by Kris’s parents dragging up grudges from their divorce and arguing like high schoolers; I was very open about my discontent at their immature waste of time.

“Yeah, they seem to have put that behind them,” He answers, “Anyway, I’ve spent all day talking about this dumb crap, I don’t want to do it with you. How was your day?”

“Good; quiet. I have the day off, so I just sat around and read all day, and then Eli and I are going over to Kat’s; she just got a new puppy,” I smile like a goof, excited at the prospect of seeing the baby; I love dogs, especially new-borns. Kris chuckles, his lips pulling back as he smiles to reveal his gums. I’ve always found that smile endearing. He then yawns widely, trying to be polite by stifling it with his large hand, but I still see just how exhausted he is.

“You should go to bed,” I scold jokingly, knowing his stubborn nature will never allow him to listen.

“It’s only 5:00!” He says, his head bolting up from the hand is was resting on in a pathetic attempt to disagree. Called it.

I shake my head helplessly, smiling at his predictability. I’ve only known him for about a week, and already I have his behaviour down to a tee. I frown at myself, It’s only been a week, but we act like we’ve known each other forever. The thought concerns me where it would comfort most.

“You know, you can always come over to Kat’s with us if you’re so bright eyed and bushy tailed,” I say, “They’ve been dying to meet you; actually meet you, not that shit that Eli pulled.”

After the exchange between Kris and Eli, Eli hasn’t shut up about how I now have a super-hot Chinese boyfriend, almost to the point of being blatantly annoying. It was funny, and a little flattering at first but it slowly turning into mocking jealousy and Kat and I got tired of it real fast. While Kris and Eli’s personalities might clash, I think Kat would get along better with my new boyfriend. I wonder vaguely if Kris has any friends in Canada waiting for him. He probably can’t go back to Vancouver because of SM though. The thought makes me kind of sad.

Kris chuckles again, followed by a wide, dramatic yawn.

“I would, but I’m exhausted,” Kris smiles sleepily at me, “I think I’ll take your advice and go for a nap.”

I begin to nod, just as Kris adds,

“Oh, and I’m mad at you!”

I blink, taken aback by the sudden change in mood. What could I have possibly done to get Kris mad? Just as my mind is beginning to reel with thoughts and worry, Kris pouts in an exaggerated way, puffing his lip way out and opening his eyes wide. I have to give it to him; it’s adorable. Cocking an eyebrow, I ask,

“And why is that?”

Looking away from the screen to his right, resembling a very cute bratty child, he crosses his arms across his broad chest.

“My bed has been cold the past couple nights,” He pouts, “And it’s all your fault.”

Unsure of what to say to that, I just chuckle, my face frozen in an incredulous expression.

After a while, I murmur, “Sorry”, my face turning red, still at a loss for words. What does he want from me?

However, Kris turns back to me just then, grinning like an idiot.

“I was joking, Alice,” He says in a caring tone. He uncrosses his arms and leans back toward the computer screen.

“Hopefully this nap will be the last with a cold bed,” He says, “Are you coming over tonight?”

I frown, trying to decide.

“Aren’t you going to bed?”

Kris shakes his head.

“No, I won’t be able to sleep through the night” he explains, and then looks back at me expectantly. I can hear the low buzz of the TV in the background; Kris never turns it off.

“Uh, well text me when you wake up, okay?” I say, heart fluttering a little at the prospect of spending the night with Kris. I’d never admit it, but I too had noticed my bed feeling lonelier since I was sleeping alone. “I don’t know how long Kat wants me to stick around.”

“When are you going to her place?” Kris asks, stifling yet another yawn; Holy shit kid, go to bed.

“I’m walking over to the cafe down the road in about 10 minutes, that’s where she works. She’s off at 5 and then Eli’s driving us both to Kat’s,” I explain, looking down at my nails at picking at the nail polish absent mindedly. I had a habit of biting them when I was little, so I’ve always worn nail polish, but this colour is getting bland and I’m itching to change it in the next couple days.

“Okay,” I hear Kris’s voice say through my screen, and I can tell he’s pouting again. Rolling my eyes, I look back at Skype, “I’ll go take my nap, and keep your phone on you, I’ll text-“

Suddenly the entire screen freezes, and only for a moment am I looking at Kris’s half-open mouth, eyes drooping, suspended mid-sentence before the whole thing goes fuzzy black and white. It’s the greyish dotted screen that TV’s used to get when there was no signal, and I see black bars flashing across the middle in a jerky motion. I sit back, mouth gaping open and eyebrows furrowed, frustrated with my piece of shit computer before giving it a good smack on the side. I begin jiggling the mouse, to no avail, and just as I’m standing up to go fetch my tech-savvy brother, Kris’s face returns safely to my screen, and I sit back down with a relieved, yet still concerned, plop.

“What happened?” I ask, looking into Kris’s digitally projected eyes. His expression is confused and slightly irritated, but he seems to relax again now that it’s solved. 

“I don’t know, my computer got all funny.” He explains, shrugging. “It’s Chinese; maybe it’s just having problems because of the location. Anyway I’m exhausted, goodnight Alice, remember to keep your phone on you, okay babe?”

He says this in the authoritative voice Kris adopts whenever he wants something to be done without arguments. My brain is still wrapping itself around everything that just happened, so I just mumble a dazed agreement before signing off. Before I’m even aware, the call is ended and Kris has left from my Skype screen.

I didn’t even have the opportunity to explain that it wasn’t only his computer that malfunctioned. How odd.

Not being very tech-savvy, I simply shrug it off with thanks to whatever technology gods allowed it to be resolved without time or money, and close my laptop. I stand up and make my way to my bedroom, opening my closet and pulling out a blue plaid shirt, jeans and a black tank top and begin stripping off my comfy lounge-around-the-house clothes. I watch myself in the mirror, seeing how my legs flex as I step into my jeans, wondering vaguely if I should work out or try and diet now that I have a boyfriend. He’ll be seeing me naked regularly, I should probably put some effort into my appearance; I look very plain next to him. Brow furrowing, I decide to think on it later, not overly concerned; he found me attractive the way I am, why change?

I’m just pulling the tank-top over my head when I hear the front door opening and closing, followed by my mother’s voice shouting a greeting to me and Marc. I holler back, opening my bedroom door to find her shaking off her shoes and shrugging off a red wrap. It’s not even remotely cold outside, but somehow my mother seems to find it absolutely bone-chilling in even the hottest of months. Shaking my head with helpless resign to my odd family members, I watch toward the cupboard to pull out a glass.

“Oh, are you getting water hunny?” My mother chimes from begin me, “Would you mind grabbing me a glass? I’m parched.”

It irks me when my mother does that, asks me questions that I can’t say no to, but I keep my mouth shut and get her a glass before going back and doing the same for myself. As I’m walking by the counter, sipping my water, I notice an envelope sitting atop the mail pile. I wouldn’t have noticed it if it weren;t for the vibrant red and pink flowing design spread across the top right and bottom left corners of the paper, and I’m not really interested until I see who it’s addressed to:

Alice Juliette-Arthemise Panquet

269 Winston St. West

Y7L 2B6

Return Address: 43 Eastborrow Lane, Sacramento, California, USA

I pick up the envelope, my brows furrowed. I quickly rack my brain, searching for a birthday or holiday for which my father would send me a card, coming up blank. Slowly, my muscles tense in anxiety as I sit down on the couch, crossing my legs beneath me. My mother notices my tense posture and comes over to read the envelope over my shoulder, and I look up to see her gazing at the envelope with pursed lips. She quickly glances over at me with worry before nodding in an urging way. I slip my finger under the lip of the envelope and open it.

The paper inside is decorated with the same design the envelope was, and there’s three separate items. The first is a thick card fitted perfectly to the envelope size, and on the front, admits various colour swirls, are these words, bolded and loud:

You Are Invited To Witness The Marital Union Of:

Jean Panquet & Helen Setting

On October 23rd 2014

At Seaside Church of Ministers, 51 Oaklane Ridge, California

I heard my mother swallow from above me to my left, and I look up to see her face hard as rock, her expression blank. I can see her jaw tense as her eyes scan the paper again. I look back down to the pages in my hand, and set the card on the coffee table in front of me. A small dried rose petal falls from between the pages, the second item. It is obviously artificially perfumed, and I catch a whiff of sickeningly sweet smell before I place the crusty flower piece atop the card.

The last thing in the envelope is a normal sized peice of paper, folded thrice. I scan it, reading the details to the wedding and the disgustingly gushy introduction as to how they met. I note with bitterness that he neglected to include the part where he cheated on my mother and drove her into debt. At the top of the page, “Dear,” is typed out, and in the space mine, Marc and Gille’s first names are handwritten; in whose hand I can’t tell. At the bottom “With Love,” is typed, and my father and his whore have signed the letter themselves, Helen putting a heart where the second e of her name should be. I run my thumb vaguely over the indent the pen has made on the page, feeling the ridge with my own skin. Against my will, I feel my nose tingle the tiniest bit, and rub it to make the emotions go away.

Knowing my mother is still watching me, I grasp the top of the page with post hands, and tear it straight down the middle. The sound it makes is satisfying and final.

I hear my mom finally exhale behind me.

“I take it you’re not going then?” My mom’s voice sounds shaky. I stand up and walk over to the garbage, dropping the shredded halves into the bin.

“No.” I say, my voice strong and clear, “Did you think I would?”

I turn to face my mother, the weak, frail woman I watched break down after my father left. I can practically see the brick wall erected behind her eyes, but I can still see the hint of sadness that lies behind. They were married for 24 years; she loved him.

Mom simply shrugs, walking toward her bedroom to strip off her work clothing. She’s an accountant for a law firm, that’s the only reason she could afford to go to court with my father after the divorce. She pauses before going into her bedroom.

“Will you tell your brothers?” She asks, leaning her arm against the door frame before she steps in the room.

“I’ll tell them.” I say, dreading the fact that she asked. That was the first thing that popped in my head the moment I tore the paper. “But I doubt they’ll care.”

She nods absent mindedly, and disappears behind the door. Shaking my head, I walk back over to the coffee table, running my hand through my hair. Why would he invite us? Why does he care? I stopped even opening his Christmas and Birthday cards two years ago, and this year he didn’t even bother sending one to Gille or I. Only Marc talks to him, and that’s very rarely. I’m dreading talking to him about this; luckily he didn’t hear any of the conversation considering his video game was so loud.

I sit down on the couch, pulling the card toward me. Sighing, I bury my head in my hands.

*      *      *

“Hang on, he wanted you to go to his wedding?” Kat asks as she unbuckles her apron and and places in on the table in a heap. I absent mindedly reach for it and fold it into a neat square. Eli sits across from me, rolling his eyes. Kat just finished her shift, and I was about to stand up and get myself a tea, but Eli asked me what was wrong and I launched into the story. There is no point in hiding my family’s issues.

“Not only that, he wanted me to be a bridesmaid. I’m not going,” I explain, leaning against the table. I fish my wallet out from my purse. “There’s no point, I haven’t talked to the guy in over 5 years, why would I travel across the continent to watch his wedding?” To me the idea seemed simple enough to grasp, but my father had always been a dim light.

I can feel my emotions catching in my chest, so I excuse myself and walk toward the counter to order my drink. Taking a deep breath, I flip past my health card and driver’s license and pull out my debit card. I rarely keep cash on me, even though it feels silly to debit a buck fifty.

I order my tea and slip my card back in it’s pouch, and just as I’m turning around to wait at my table, I  walk front first into a short, sturdy man. I feel his beard brush against my jaw and my hand and wallet digging into my abdomen where it’s trapped between our two bodies for the millisecond before we both step back; flustered. Feeling my face turn red, I look down, fumbling to close my wallet and avoid the man’s gaze. I hear him stutter an apology and I glance up to accept his and give mine. Just as I look up at his face, I realise I recognize him.

The rough grey and black beard looks vaguely familiar, and the stern look to his crinkled eyes makes me narrow mine. Before I can ask or place him, however, he gives me a sharp look and hurries off out of the cafe. I mutter and apology at his back, despite the fact that I know he can’t hear me.

Shaking it off, I walk back over to Kat and Eli, both of whom are snickering at me.

“That’s embarrassing,” Kat chuckles, and Eli pats my back in mock congratulations. I smack him in the gut before putting my wallet back in my purse, hugging it on my lap. I give my friends a look.

“You’ve known me for how long?” I ask, “And you’ve only just realised I’m a klutz?”

While they’re chuckling, the man walks by the window we’re sitting beside, and I watch him. Something in the way he saunters down the sidewalk reminds me of a man I’ve seen walking away before. Suddenly it hits me; he’s the man that was sitting at the bar when Kris and I had the date. Relief floods over me as I realise it’s nothing menacing, and smile along with Kat and Eli.

“Will you tell your brothers?” Kat asks. She seems more concerned than Eli, who is suddenly very interested in his cuticles.

“I’ll tell them, sure, Marc at least. I won’t go out of my way to tell Gille, so unless he comes home for the weekend he doesn’t need to know. You’re deadbeat cheat of a father suddenly inviting you to his wedding with the slut he left your mom for after 5 years of silence isn’t something you can break to your brother over text.”

I sigh, leaning back in my chair and taking a sip of my tea. The warmth is soothing, and when I exhale I feel marginally more relaxed.

“Hey, are we going to go or not?” Eli snaps. Kat and I both stare at him for a moment, before reaching for our bags and standing up.

“Who put a bee hive up your ass?” I ask, frowning at my friend. He’s usually short tempered, but I can’t think of anything that would have set him off. Maybe he’s just having a bad day.

“No one, I was just under the impression we were going to Kat’s house.” He says, leading the way out of the cafe. Kat and I exchange a look before following him.

Kat’s car is a green Hyundai Accent, at least 7 years old. It had light rusting, but is in otherwise good condition, aside from the fact that it used to be her mother’s car, and her mother has an obsession with ferrets. The back seat will never be the original black colour again.

The three of us climb in, Kat driving (obviously) me in passenger and Eli sprawled across the backseat. We have to wait a few minutes while Kat and Eli argue because Eli doesn’t want to wear his seat belt but Kat refuses to leave until he does. In the end Eli grudgingly buckles his belt, but swings his legs so he’s sitting across the seat defiantly. Rolling her eyes, Kat simples backs out and cranks the radio, which happens to be playing Maroon 5’s Maps. Jamming out to good tunes, the three musketeers head over to Kat’s.

On the way there, I reflect on how happy these two make me. If Kris were to leave my life, I would miss him dearly, but things would simply go back to normal, or at least as normal as they were before he came along. However, if Kat and Eli were to leave.. I have no idea. They’ve been my friends for such a long time, they’re a huge part of who I am and I can’t imagine my life without them. After my dad left they picked up the broken peices and slowly glued them back together, and I owe them everything for it. Smiling, I pull my knees up to my chest, put my feet on the dashboard and laugh at Eli in the back trying to hit Adele’s high note.

We pull into Kat’s driveway just as Eminem’s Rap God comes on, and I entertain them for a few moments trying to rap along, before stumbling over my words as I do so often my feet, and we eventually drag ourselves out of the car. The sky looks like rain, so Kat let’s us in the house before rushing off to close all the windows. Eli and I kicking off our shoes, me stilll mumbling under my breath:

Little gay looking boy
So gay I can barely say it with a ‘straight’ face looking boy
You’re witnessing a mass-occur like you’re watching a church gathering
And take place looking boy

Making a funny face every time I say “looking boy”. Eli and I are slowly stumbling into Kat’s living room, clutching our sides in sheer hysterical pain when Kat comes back, looking at us like we belong in an asylum. She simply shakes her head and gestures behind me.

“The puppy’s in the laundry room in you want to come see him.” she says, turning her body slightly as she starts toward the door. “My mom’s keeping him in there until he’s house trained, and old enough to know not to destroy the house when we’re gone.”

Eli and I stand up to follow her, hints of smiles still present on our lips.

Kat’s puppy is the cutest creature I have seen in my entire life, and I’ve seen some cute animals. He’s all floppy ears and big eyes and ungainly limbs, and he tumbles over us with his tail wagging when we walk in the door. The three of us sit down, me cross-legged, Eli against the wall with his legs stretched out, and Kat on her knees. The puppy comes over to me first, wiggling his way up my lap to lick my cheek before rushing over to greet Kat and Eli.

“What’s his name?” I ask, watching him paw at Kat’s arm in the most adorable way. The action earns him giggles and “awe”s from the trio.

“Jack,” Kat says, woojying Jack’s face and kissing his nose. “My mom named him, she wanted to name him after Jack the Ripper, because she wants to eliminate the taboo around his name, and make it socially acceptable to discuss women haters as a reality.”

Kat’s mom is a known feminist, an extremist in my opinion, and I feel she went a bit too in depth with her choice for a dog name. No one’s going to know, they will simply think Jack is a normal name for a dog. I bite my tongue.

We quickly wear Jack out, and before long he’s on the couch sleeping while we curl up watching One Missed Call. Aside from Eli, we all like scary movies, including Jack, who barks in his sleep very cutely whenever someone screams; which is often. I’m licking the popcorn butter off my fingers just as the movie is reaching its climax; we all watch with baited breath as the protagonist crawls through the air ducts of the haunted asylum, waiting for some horrific monster to pop out. I’m expecting to see an old nun with a sewed up mouth and three eyes appear when my phone on the coffee table suddenly buzzes and lights up. All of us jump, clutching the blankets tighter before realising our folly and laughing. I reach for my phone, smile still printed lightly on my face, screams coming from the background; she found the nun.

I unlock my phone and read the message. It’s from Kris.

Kris, 9:48: Hey can you come over tonight? We need to talk.

Suddenly the happy feeling I felt earlier has vanished.