let the wolves enjoy my bones [perdita]

“Red! Cmon, open the door, I just wanna talk,” he hollered for the billionth time, slurring, as he banged against her door before taking another swig of the bottle wrapped in brown paper. Some of the dark liquid sloshing out and splashing on his dark-wash jeans. He squinted at the wet spots, nearly indistinguishable in the dark, but he cursed at them anyway. 

It was well past midnight and Torr was well past being sober. His hair was mussed beyond the artful rumpled look he usually went for, he smelled of booze and sex, and his vision was swimming as he alternated between cursing at Perdita for making him wait out here in the cold and coaxing her to come to the door. The old biddy next door had already flashed her light at him twice and threatened to call the authorities and Torr had made a crude gesture in return, making a mental note that if he had to throw up at some point, he would do so all over her stoop. 

He wasn’t that drunk, Torr told himself. He didn’t exactly remember when he had been completely sober last. Maybe that morning a week ago with Perdita... It had felt like an eon ago by now. Torr was still fucking pissed about how she thought she could just walk out like that. How she thought she could set the rules for his life. Fuck that. He had gone out every night since then, drinking, getting high, fighting, fucking, just to prove her wrong. Ness had even seen him one night after a particularly vicious fight and had asked him what was eating him. Torr had cursed her out until she had left, leaving him  half-healed. He had done a piss poor job at fixing himself up, but maybe he was glad for it. The pain had been his only company and it was a welcomed relief compared to the gnawing ache in his chest that seemed to stay with him no matter what he did.

Torr leaned a forearm against her door and took another drink, his balance tenuous as he rested his forehead on the cool wood. It did nothing to clear his mind and the fact that he didn't know if she was in there and just ignoring him or if she was out with some other guy made him inconsolable. He beat his fist against the door again, his anger spiking through the fog his his mind momentarily as he shouted, "Perdita, open this fucking door, you bit---oooff." Torr stumbled forward a half step, trying to catch himself as the door opened and clumsily managing to stop himself from falling on his face against the door jamb before he dragged his eyes to hers.

@Perdita Bloom

With a groan, Perdita clenched her eyes shut. She rolled over onto her front, her face pressed against the mattress and her pillow over the back of her head, her fingers gripping the edges in an effort to make the noise stop. She'd woken up with a start, bleary-eyed and heart pounding as the banging on her door rudely stopped her deep and dreamless sleep. There was a pain over her left eye that seemed to be growing more and more intense with every passing second.

She was exhausted. She'd barely been home. Perdy had picked up more hours at work, often staying in the office until it was late. Why? Because she didn't trust herself. She knew where to find Torrence and he knew where to find her. But he didn't know where the offices were and so, her little tiny space had become her sanctuary over the past seven or so days. It had made a good impression on her boss but Perdy was sure the shine would be dulled if she ever found out the reason.

With her head under the pillow, everything was muffled - the ticking of the clock on her bedside table, the cars trundling past in the distance and her eyes closed, the lull of sleep too delicious to ignore before a particularly loud bang! made her grit her teeth. In anger, she launched the pillow across the room and kicked back her duvet, yanking open her bedroom door and stomping down the stairs. Her hair was a mess, sticking up in all directions like a newborn chick, her face free of make up and her baby blue silk pyjamas swishing softly as she stamped her way to her front door.

"What?" She hissed as she wrenched the heavy door open, her eyes widening in mild surprise to see how close he was standing to her and she instantly backed away. She folded her lips into a thin line as she surveyed him - he looked rough. Like he hadn't slept in a week. Perdita sighed heavily. She didn't have anything to say to him but she thought them ending things meant they weren't meant to see each other any more.

There was a moment of silence as they stared at each other before a movement from an upstairs window next door caught her eye as a light flicked on. Perdy didn't like Mrs. Reid too much. She knew she was being judged, which she thought ironic, considering Betty had jumped into bed with her gardener three days after her husband had died. Looking up, Perdy gave the old woman a cheery wave before grabbing a fistful of Torrence's shirt and hauling him roughly into her hallway.

She let him go almost immediately as she closed and locked the front door behind him, stepping away from him a polite distance. "What now?" She asked, sounding exhausted as she brushed her hair back from her face as she folded her arms over her chest and rubbed her arms for warmth, the coolness of the hall seeping through the thin material of her pyjamas. "You said you wanted to talk," she pressed Torrence, her eyes dropping to the bottle in his hand before back to his face. "So talk."

"Red," he slurred, his eyes gleaming with a brightness, and a drunken smile gracing his lips as he took her in. She was here, good. Meant that she wasn't out with some other bloke. He stumbled half a step in, his eyes stuck on her short blue pajamas that looked silky. "Did I get these for you, they look good," he murmured as he reached out a hand to touch them, but she was backing away and it made him frown at her, deep creases forming between his brows.

But there was a beat, where his eyes traced over her body, a moment of relief from missing her this past week, before he got to her eyes. The coldness and distance he saw there sapped him of any good feeling he had gotten when she had opened the door. In that moment, he would have apparated away, if he wasn't so drunk. He wasn't exactly running, he told himself, but he just didn't want to see that look on her face. Like they were strangers. It made him simmer with anger that she had turned them into this.

He grunted as she hauled him inside, knocking him off balance, as he stumbled in after her and caught him self on the table in her foyer. Torr laid a hand flat on the table as the room moved around him and he took a few deep breaths as he blinked before turning his head to look at her.

"Don't do that, Red," he said as he stared at her, watching her cross her arms in front of her. He took a half step toward her but pursed his lips as his head started swimming and he had to grip the wall. He felt a flicker of shame as she eyed the bottle in his hand and he didn't fucking like that feeling so he smirked, or tried to, his facial muscles weren't really responding too well right about now. Torr lifted the bottle toward her, "Want some, love?"

He greeted her by her nickname and she frowned. She'd been upset with him when he'd called her by her full name the last time she'd seen him but now she was upset that he'd reverted back - he hadn't earned that privilege. "No," she said gently and with a small smile to Torrence's question about her pyjamas. The things he'd bought her were usually black and skimpy but she slammed on the brakes. Now was not the time for reminiscing. His hand was outstretched towards her but she was just out of his reach, so she smacked his hand away regardless.

He'd stumbled into the table and she winced in sympathy because she did that all the time when she'd had a few glasses of wine. The noise was loud and reverberated around the hallway as she flicked her eyes back to him. He looked terrible. Pale and drawn and strung out. Perdita knew she hadn't been the one to cause this. Torrence was feeling sorry for himself and did what he always did when he didn't get his way - he drank. He fought. He screamed. He lost himself in other people. She sighed gently. She couldn't believe that a week ago, she thought this could actually go somewhere.

"I'm sorry?" She asked sharply as she jerked her head up to survey him in mild confusion. Do what? Protect herself? He'd said some heinous things the last time she'd seen him (she had too but his had been worse) and she was mad. She wasn't ready to see him. Perdy was still stewing. Typical Torrence. He couldn't ever let her have the last word.

Her arms remained folded now out of spite as she cocked out her left hip, her eyebrows raising as Torrence offered her the bottle. "No, thank you. It's two in the morning," she answered him politely before she turned on her heel and padded into the kitchen to flick the kettle on. She busied herself by heaping three teaspoons of coffee into a mug and then adding another three of sugar before she added hot water and stirred it together.

"Coffee," she informed him as she turned, not surprised to see him standing close. She held the mug out for him to take, her free hand coming up slowly to try and pry the bottle from his fingers. "Drink it," she insisted, fully expecting him to rebuff her, a finger under the bottom of the cup as she lifted it for him.

He'd been fighting, she noticed, and her full lips down turned into another frown. "I don't want to see you," she told Torrence honestly as she swallowed anxiously. Last week had been awful. She hadn't been able to sleep that night. The words he'd yelled at her kept bumping around her head late at night like a game of pinball. It was difficult to look at him so she turned away, instead setting herself down on one of the stools at the breakfast bar in the middle of her kitchen.

Her eyes were on the vase of fresh flowers she'd bought herself - white roses, lilies, freesias and eucalyptus - but they hadn't cheered her up. "I thought I'd ended this," she reminded Torrence in a soft voice as she reached out to touch one of the rose's velvet petals. Turning her head, she watched him carefully. "You're a mess," she said but not unkindly. "What have you done?"

He had almost seen a ghost of the smiles that she used to give him, but it was gone in the next second as she slapped his hand away and it feel uselessly to his side as he looked at her, almost too exhausted to glare properly. "You should be sorry," he muttered even though he had a faint notion that the phrase wasn't what she meant. Still, she was the one that wanted to push things. She was the one that wanted to ruin what they had. She should be saying sorry.

"Heyy," he called as he watched her pad down the hall toward her kitchen, his eyes on her barefeet before he followed her, his hand on the wall to steady himself as he sidled closer. He didn't even care what she was doing. She had opened the door so he had considered it a win. He felt like shit, but it was a win. He eyed the mug in her hand and made a face of disgust. "I'll stick with the bottle," he said before he looked down at his hand that was holding it to find it empty. What the. She had already pried the bottle out of his hand and replaced it with the mug. His reaction time was slower than he thought. He couldn't even recall how much he had had to drink at this point..

"Well what if I wanted to see you," he asked petulantly, not really a question as he sipped at the coffee and cursed lowly. It was fucking hot. Damn, she couldn't even do a cooling charm. He set the cup down on the counter but kept his hands around it. He felt so out of it that the warmth helped ground him.

"'m fine," he insisted, followed up a lazy smirk as he leaned against the counter, more to keep himself from falling over than anything else. Damn it all, he might just lay out right here in her kitchen. What did he care, he had pretty much taken up residence on her stoop before she had opened the door. "Just the usual things you would expect of someone that you can't bring mother to home.. bring your mother home, fuck.. bring home to your mother," Torr said, his words getting all mixed up around each other as he tried to think while his mind turned to sludge. What hadn't he done this week though. There was a faint notion of not wanting her to find out. He didn't want to see that look on her face.

He couldn't look away from her fingertips on the flowers. Fresh flowers. A spark of familiar anger flickered in him. "Yknow, I don't hear good things about white roses, Red. Whoever sent them to you is a dumbass," he told her, his dark eyes red-rimmed from lack of sleep and too much alcohol, but his stare stil bored into her.

She blinked at Torrence in the dim lighting. "I bloody well think not," Perdita replied, latent anger bubbling somewhere dark. She hadn't forgiven him, nor did she want to. He'd said some horrid things, he'd made her cry and then laughed at her and he had the balls to show up and have another go at her?

Unfortunately, Perdita was a good hostess. "Don't be such a toddler," she told Torrence firmly, still watching him with cautious eyes. Torrence had spooked her last week and he was spooking her now. He looked awful - properly awful and for reasons unbeknown to her, she actually felt guilty. But this was what he did. He was charming and debonair and funny and sexy. Then he broke hearts. Perdy would be damned if she let him do that to her.

He promptly burned himself and she smirked, just a little, as a rush of smugness washed over her. "Well, what if I don't want to see you?" Perdita countered as she watched him before she heaved a sigh. "I thought we weren't doing this," she told him softly. In all fairness, she hadn't given Torrence an option but he'd been so angry, this was the last place she thought he'd be. "You could have waited until a more appropriate time," she reminded him as she flicked her eyes back to him and instantly wished she hadn't.

"Mmhm," she replied, her eyebrows arched as she nodded. "You look fine," Perdita asked sarcastically, dropping her gaze down to her hands. As Torrence stumbled over his words, she looked back at him in mild surprise. "Out of everything I said to you," the tall witch went on, "You remember that?" He wasn't the meet-the-parents type, so she wasn't sure what he'd gain by throwing it back in her face. "Maybe try staying home a couple of nights a week?" She offered gently. "If you do want to become someone that can be taken home to a mother."

Abruptly, her fingers stopped. "They're no worse than red roses," she informed Torrence lightly as she absently began to rearrange the flowers, shifting the roses into the centre of the vase. At his next comment, she looked over at him and smiled sadly. "She is," she agreed with him - Perdita was a dumbass. Perdy didn't think Torrence had ever sent anyone flowers before. Maybe he'd send her a cactus as a joke. But Brennan had sent her roses months ago and they were beautiful and she frowned at the memory.

With a sigh that ruffled her hair, she gently pulled off one of the rose's full blooms as she began to peel the petals back with care. He loves me the game went as she plucked off a petal. He loves me not as another fell to the table.

She could feel his eyes on her and she was slow to meet his gaze, twisting on her stool. "What?" Perdita asked Torrence directly. "Stop looking at me like that," she snapped with a frown before she picked off another petal, this time in frustration. "I don't know what you want me to say," she admitted, sounding exasperated as he shoulders slumped. He loves me the game went on as she shredded the petals. "I'm sorry if I hurt your feelings," she paused. "But you really upset me," she confessed as she swallowed anxiously. "And I'm not sorry for leaving."

"Yeah? Then why'd you let me in then," a question, but not a question. He sighed heavily. He didn't want to talk anymore. He had done a lot less talking this entire week and he didn't want to talk now either. Not with her. Not about this. He wanted to use his lips and mouth for other things, but hell he couldn't even hold himself up right now. He leaned his arms more on the counter, letting his torso lean on the counter so he didn't have to hold himself up, closing his eyes as he stared down at the marble countertop, his head hanging as he tried to corral a thought.

Then a sudden thing occurred to him. Fuck this. Fuck this talking bullshit and fuck her sarcasm and her judgements and her insults. He didn't want to leave, but he didn't want to talk either. Or sip coffee. Or pretend that he could be the civilized gentleman she expected of him. He didn't have the energy to pretend that he was anything else other than an asshole and with that thought, he sent the mug flying, hot coffee burning the back of his hand, making him hiss, as it sloshed over the rim. The cup landed in her sink with a hard thump, but he kind of wanted a redo. He wanted it to break. Shatter. So that he wasn't the only thing in the room broken beyond repair.

He couldn't process her suggestion to stay home or the fact that she may or may not be into women now (??) or that she thought he had feelings. "You didn't hurt my fucking feelings," he said loudly, his voice echoing around the room as he met his gaze and glared at her. But even he wasn't sure if he believed the words.

Torr pushed up on his hands as his anger fueled him. Good, something familiar. Anger. He could use that. He swallowed thickly, his lips feeling numb, his tongue too thick to fit in his mouth as he sharpened his anger at her, not caring that she was frowning up at him like that, not caring that she said he had upset her. He staggered a step toward her, stumbling over his own feet as he pointed a finger at her.  "Welcome to the real world, love. It's not all sunshine and roses and you knew what you were getting into with me so I don't know why you're fucking surprised now," he said, his voice quickly rising.

Perdita boggled at him. "Because you were banging shit out of my front door," she answered with wide eyes. "Do you know how much trouble I'm already in with my neighbours?" She asked, sounding desperate. "And I know you," she narrowed her eyes at him. "You'd keep going. Or you'd fall asleep on the step and then I'd fall over you on the way to work in the morning."

But then a cup flew across the kitchen and she threw her hands over her head. It made a dull thunk! as it landed and she slowly turned her head to face him, her eyes as wide as dinner plates. That was her favourite mug. Her eyes dropped to the floor where the coffee had split, then to his hand to see the red skin of the burn and then eventually to his face.

Perdita's nerves were jangling as she stared at Torrence, her heart beating so hard, she thought she could feel it in her throat. "No," she said softly as she glanced over at the mug as a sinking feeling settled in her stomach. "I don't think I did," she admitted as she folded her lips into a thin line. She hadn't meant to but in the heat of the moment, she had. Perdy wanted to scrap, to fight dirty, to make him hurt even a fraction as much as he'd hurt her but for what? The man was dead inside.

Torrence advanced and she fought her urge to back down, instead choosing to stand her ground. As he pointed a finger at her, she reached out and grabbed it. Quick as a flash, she twisted it. "Don't threaten me," she hissed, anger taking over as she flung his hand back at him and stepped away, turning her back as her hands went to her hair.

"Did you actually come all this way just to yell at me?" Perdita laughed as she spun around to face him. "Sunshine and roses," she echoed, mocking Torrence. "Ironic because you're my little black rain cloud, aren't you?" She sneered.

"Get over yourself," she snapped, her eyes wide and hands on her hips. "This isn't all about you," she went on as she shouldered past Torrence in his drunken state. "I know you don't give a shit about me," she ploughed on. "You couldn't make that any more clear," Perdita added with a humourless laugh. "So don't keep calling around here, yeah?" She turned and stepped back to him, hands on her hips as she crowded Torrence's space.

"I'm not getting into anything with you," she corrected him, as though he didn't understand what had transpired the week before. Heaving a sigh, she shook her head. "Be honest," she challenged him. It was unfair because he was clearly lost in the sauce but she'd had just about enough. "You want me one day, the next you're throwing plates," she muttered. "I can't keep up. You're messing with my head."

She glanced up at him. "Just --" trailing off because she couldn't find the right words to convey what she wanted to say, Perdita just sighed again. "Stop," she settled on. "Just stop." With a huff, she folded her arms, annoyed at herself. Tall and handsome with an inability to commit? Check, check and check again. It made her feel queasy to know that he'd been out every night, doing who knows what with who knows whom and that was no basis for a relationship, even one she'd made up in her head.

Perdita walked to the sink, picked up the cup he'd been using and threw it from a higher height (with stronger force) into the sink, letting it smash into tiny pieces, the sound echoing through the still kitchen as she finished the task Torrence hadn't been able to. Inhaling sharply and exhaling slowly, she nodded. "I feel better," she announced to no one in particular. Swiftly, she snatched up Torrence's bottle from the kitchen countertop and padded out of the kitchen, down the hall and into the living room, slamming the door behind her rudely.

"Fucking liar," he muttered as she admitted she hadn't known what she was getting in to. Great. Just another thing she could add to the list to blame him for. But she wasn't backing down and neither was he. Of course, she wasn't drunk off her ass like he was. He barked out a noise of complaint as she twisted back his finger, his arm twisting with it, too drunk to react other than to protest, not sober enough to stop her. As she flung her hand back at him, he lost what little balance he had managed to cling on to and he tottered against the counter.

He wanted to throw his usual snappy comebacks at her, throw jab for jab, hurt, maim, rise to her challenge, but as she crowded into his space, he didn't care what threats and demands she was throwing at him. He didn't care that her eyes were wide and reproachful as they looked at him, or maybe he did and he didn't want to see that look in her eyes. Torr only had one thought on his mind and it manifested itself with him grabbing at her hips and pulling her against him, swallowing up what little space had remained between them. He pushed his lips against her, his breath hot, smelling of the whiskey and tasting of the little bit of coffee she had made him, one of his hands going up to cup her cheek.

Torr looked down into her eyes as she looked up at him and he pulled back but he couldn't quite get himself to step away. Just stop. His eyes were sad as he frowned at her, shook his head a few times, before he leaned in and pressed his forehead to hers. Whether it was the week apart or the alcohol in his system eliminating his filter system, he said exactly what was on his mind where normally he would have covered with a snarky remark or a sarcastic quip. "I can't," he said lowly. "I don't know how." He couldn't stop. He couldn't be honest. Even with this eyes closed, he stlil saw colors against his eyelids and his body felt heavy. He couldn't explain, it was just an honest truth. He didn't have words other than "I can't" which he repeated again and then again.

But she was pulling out of his arms, away from him and Torr dropped his hands to his sides, a wave of something rising in him that he couldn't name as he watched her move away, smashing the cup to bits like he had intended. It didn't make him feel any better like he thought it would. But he just watched her with dark eyes as she padded out of the room in her barefeet with his bottle. He followed her, of course, after a beat, his hand still trailing on the wall for balance as he weaved before sprawling onto her couch, unable to stay standing for a moment longer. Maybe he had been better off sitting on her stoop.

Merlin, what the fuck was he doing here. He laid his head back against the couch as his head swam. "Got any bliss?" he muttered, wondering why he hadn't thought to bring any, desperately needing an escape from all this shit.

The thrill of hurting him distracted her and she didn't see Torrence's movement until it was too late. It took her a second to realise what was happening before her body responded and she kissed him back, her resolve withered and dead inside of her. She tilted her chin up to meet him, her hands on his waist as she attempted to keep him steady. Her eyes fluttered closed as her hands curled around the material of his tee shirt but it was too brief.

He hadn't looked at her like that before. He usually had two expressions - lust and anger and perhaps a grin if she didn't do as he'd asked - but this was different. She wished she hadn't seen it because it made her stomach turn. Perdita loosened her grip on him, hands resting on his waist as she swallowed nervously. This wasn't fair. He was just toying with her, like he always did, but this time she wasn't in on the joke. Torrence was completely drunk and she had to remind herself that this wasn't real life.

Maybe it was the time spent apart or the hand on cradling her cheek in a very uncharacteristically tender gesture but she took a shaky breath as Torrence rested his forehead against hers. Sad. She felt sad. She'd already explained that to him twice before but he didn't seem to find it so funny now. They'd been intimate before but this was intimate. Her eyes were still closed as she exhaled slowly. "I don't get it," she whispered back as they stood together, careful not to move an inch. The kitchen was cold, her pyjamas were thin and Torrence was toasty warm.

It wasn't like Perdita was some sort of drug. She was just a posh rich girl of little to no importance and she didn't deserve this. Any of this. Her fingers of her right hand gently toyed with the material of his shirt front, feeling their axis shift somewhat with Torr's revelation. He said he didn't know how to stop and she frowned. Stop what? His habits? His games? Dropping by unannounced? Her? "You'd better figure out a way," she said gently before she moved to the living room, breaking their little bubble.

The living room was plush and quiet as she lit the fire, the warm glow the only light in the room. Her head was spinning and she needed the thirty seconds in his absence to try and forget that it felt nice and she only turned round in time to see him make himself comfortable.

"Bliss?" Perdita echoed, eyebrows raised as she laughed, genuinely this time. "Do you think I'm the type of person to have drugs just laying around?" She asked him with a tut and a shake of her head, lifting the stolen bottle to her lips to take a swig and instantly wished she hadn't. Whiskey. Not her favourite but it'd help numb whatever this was.

Backing up, she sat down on the arm of the sofa with her long legs dangling over the side,  her eyes on the dancing flames as she fell silent, breaking every so often to drink. "Sorry about your finger," Perdy offered as she turned to look at him sprawled out on her sofa. In spite of herself, she offered a gentle smile and snorted softly. They were both just shipwrecked on each other. "Need anything?" She joked. "Pillow, blanket, slippers, a cheese toastie?"

You'd better figure out a way. Torr frowned as her words raced around his head. They had been doing that lately. Her words, her voice in his mind and no matter how much he drank, no matter how much bliss he had, it wouldn't stop. Maybe because he didn't even know where to start, what to do, or even if he wanted to put that much effort in. It seemed like a lot of work. Then again, he couldn't exactly get drunk and sit out on her stoop every night. Well, he could but it was much better in here, with her.

The fire crackled and the flames cast shadows on the wall and the golden of it felt too bright for his eyes. He turned his head toward her instead. "Well, I've probably left some here," he muttered as she drank his whiskey. He eyed the bottle against her lips, but didn't want any more. Even though a part of him wanted to guzzle the whole bottle and drift into oblivion. So many warring thoughts, he was getting fucking sick of himself.

So instead of trying to sort through it, he defaulted. He distracted himself with her, wanted to lose himself in her. He leaned over and reached out his arm, trying to tug her closer, wanting to touch her, wanting her next to him instead of on the arm of the sofa. "Red, I'm sorry for what I said," he gave her an apology he thought she might want to hear even though there wasn't much sincerity behind it. "Just cmere," Torr added, trying to pull her closer as he shook his head. "I only need you," he replied to her list even though it wasn't technically honest before he leaned closer to kiss her again.

The warmth of the fire made her curl her toes as tiredness began to creep in. She stifled a yawn as she reached up to rub her left eye as she swayed slightly on the spot, only to shoot him a look. "You've done drugs at my house?" Perdita asked, outraged, her eyes wide as she stared at Torrence all sprawled out like he didn't have a care in the world. Swiftly, she frowned as she folded her arms across her chest and leaned back on the arm of the couch, making a mental note to scrub the entire place from top to bottom in the morning.

Her eyes were on the fire as it crackled merrily, her exposed skin covered with goosebumps as the heat seeped in. She felt his touch before she heard his apology and she turned to look at him. An apology from Torrence - they were as rare as hen's teeth.

Perdy was quiet for a moment before she weighed things up. She thought she might feel better after he said he was sorry (because the things he'd said were painful) but rather, she just felt a little bit worse. Torrence was paying her lip service because he thought that was what she wanted, what she needed to be able to forgive him. The idea settled uncomfortably on her shoulder as she gave him a brittle smile. She wasn't going to say sorry back.

As his touch became most insistent, Perdy let out a soft grunt of annoyance as she slipped sideways and on to the couch, pressed up against his side. Her fingers dropped the bottle and it fell to the floor in a dull thunk! Up close, she could see the toll the past week had taken on him. His eyes were red and bleary, his skin was pale and a twinge of guilt bubbled up before she promptly trod on it.

Torrence had said the words she'd always wanted him to but needing and wanting were two very different things. She wavered, her bright eyes flicking back and forth across his face as she automatically leaned in slowly. He was playing her. Again. Men didn't change in a week. "And how many girls have you said that to?" Perdy asked gently but her tone wasn't accusatory. If this was his modus operandi, then she needed to buck up her ideas. I only need you. It bumped around her head and before she knew it, she'd kissed him back.

Her hands came up to cradle Torrence's face as she reclined back on the sofa, pulling gently in an effort to get him to follow her trajectory. Her touch was soft and her hands were warm as they slid down the sides of his neck, eyes closed as she relaxed into it before she broke the kiss to take a breath. "You're drunk," she reminded him as she bumped her nose against his in the fire light, her breathing unsteady. "And high," she added as she pulled back a little more. Perdita shook her head, her hands still on his chest as she cleared her throat. "I also don't think this is a good idea." She smiled again, sadder this time, as she politely removed her hands.

"No," he answered automatically, but then he paused and the honest answer came out of his mouth. "Yes." He wasn't ashamed of it though he didn't like the frown or the insinuation in her tone. What did she expect? He brewed the shit himself. She thought he didn't use it to escape now and then?

But his apology felt like it hadn't worked. The smile she gave him was cold and he could feel the reluctance in her body as he pulled her towards him, but he didn't care. He needed her closer. Torr was regretting it a second later though as she looked at him, really looked at him. And he thought she saw way more than he wanted to reveal. It felt uncomfortable. He squirmed on the couch, huffing an annoyed sound as she asked about other girls. "Not this again," he said automatically, their last fight coming to mind even as her new question circled. "Not many," he answered a minute later. It was true even if it wasn't exactly what she meant. He said things like that all the time to women he picked up. Girls liked hearing things like that, made them feel special, made them want to do more. But the way he said it to Red was different. Not completely different, but a thread of something that felt more.. honest? No, not honest. Less of a lie.

He breathed her in as she came closer and he gazed at her with bleary eyes as he followed her gentle, silent request. His hand came up to her thigh, then her hip as he felt her relax under him and he lost himself in the taste of her, frowning as she pulled back. "No, I'm not," he quietly protested the truth, but he saw that distance he hated in her eyes and her hands on his chest felt like a push away. But it was that sad smile that really did it. He hated that fucking expression on her face.

Torr pulled back and cursed lowly as he ran a hand over his face, his chest feeling tight. "And why not," he tossed at her. He didn't have the brain power or energy or anything to have another fight like they had last week. It felt like there was a mountain pressing down on him and all he wanted to do was lay in her bed with her and not leave. But that was fucking dumb. Shit how much did he have to drink, he couldn't remember. What was the point. It wasn't like he was going to remember any of this anyway. He slumped over and rested his head in her lap, closing his eyes as the room swam around him again from the sudden change in position. Maybe she wouldn't leave so easily if he was laying on her like this.

"But…where?" She asked, wide-eyed. When Torrence was here, they usually spent all their time together. Unless he was downing potions in the loo. Or when she was sleeping. Did that mean she was such of a bore that he needed something extra? It wasn't important but it still irked her.

Perdita wasn't surprised by his response but she did give a soft sigh. He sounded annoyed by it and she was annoyed, too. "Sorry," she added gently because she hadn't meant to ask that question, even though it was lurking in the background, omnipresent. His final answer didn't placate her, either. She frowned again, her eyebrows furrowed. She wasn't going to do this again. She'd spent enough time questioning whether or not she was good enough for him or better than anyone else he was seeing. In the end, it didn't matter because he'd keep doing it.

She was short of breath as the kiss ended and she arched her eyebrows in question. "How many reasons do you want?" Perdy countered. He was drunk and she'd be taking advantage. She'd ended things last week, so this wasn't really allowed. Then there was the whole showdown last week. They'd both said some horrid things but in the heat of the moment, they were probably true. It wasn't quite a case of the Prince and the Pauper. More...Chelsea Girl and The Commitment Phobe.

"Wait, Torr, stop --" She protested, her eyes wide before he fell into her lap. Perdy froze in panic, her body tense as Torrence pitched forward. There was a moment of silence, the space filled by the crackling fire, as she very gently placed her hands on his shoulder and leaned down, just in case he'd stopped breathing - he hadn't, he was just completely pissed.

Perdita let out a breath of relief as she tilted her head back to rest on the back of the sofa, her eyes on the ceiling as she wondered what in the actual fuck was going on. Perdy hesitated. He looked so peaceful with his eyes closed but they'd never really done this before. Occasionally, they fell asleep after sex and she woke up with his arm slung over her waist but she didn't think that technically classed as cuddling. With care, her fingers gently raked from the crown of his head, across his scalp and down the back of his neck in slow, comforting strokes.

It was nice but it shouldn't be and she definitely should not be doing this. Before she could overthink anything else, she used her free hand to tug the throw from the back of the sofa and gently arrange it over his shoulders, adjusting her position as surreptitiously as she could as she continued to stroke Torrence's hair. The room was dark and quiet and it felt like they were the only people in the entire world.

Torr shrugged, not wanting to answer the question. Apparently, non-answers were his go-to thing lately. He was surprised she hadn't kicked him out yet. And if he had been a little more present and not drunk off his ass, he would have been surprised that she was saying 'sorry' for anything. He certainly didn't know the meaning of the words and while their fight last week had been a bullshit argument about a non-existent event, Torr definitely had made up for it his past week. Shit, he didn't even know how many girls he had used to try to forget about her. All he knew was that it hadn't worked. He didn't want her to ever know that though.

"Reasons for what," he muttered, already forgetting what he had asked. He just wanted to be close to her. Plus, he couldn't fucking move if he tried. All of the shit in his system felt like dead weight and he couldn't fight it anymore. In some part of his mind, he heard her protest, but he wasn't moving from her lap, and he especially wasn't moving when he felt her hands in his hair.. petting him. There was a lump in his throat that he hoped wasn't a sign of wanting to puke his guts out at the thought that he couldn't quite remember the last time he had let anyone do this.

He let out a sighing breath, his mouth open as he relaxed even further. He felt her moving around and grumbled a noise of protest before he realized she was covering him with a blanket. It felt like too much though. His clothes scratched against his skin, his black leather jacket pulling across his shoulders, his eyes pounding with a headache, his throat raw from yelling earlier. But he didn't want to move an inch except to roll onto his back so he could look up at her with eyes that were wide with a blatant honesty that he couldn't quite mask the way he normally did. "Why haven't you kicked me out, Red?" he said so low he almost hadn't heard it himself.