#drunk vi

Vi leaned against me, one arm slung over my shoulders as I helped her walk. She’d had another awful night—too many drinks after the brawl. Even though she’d won every round, she felt wrecked. Sore. Defeated. Restless.

When we finally reached her place and she pushed open the door, a wave of stench hit me immediately. Alcohol, grime, vomit, cheap hair products, sweat—all of it tangled together in a single, suffocating smell. My nose wrinkled, but I stayed quiet and guided her inside the dim, miserable apartment.

She let herself crash onto the mattress, and I sit on its edge. I reached out and gently stroked her back.

Then I took in the room around us. Empty bottles cluttered the floor. The mattress was ancient, sagging, stripped of blankets and even a pillow. Across from us sat a tiny sink and a cracked mirror, littered with half-used hair products and rolls of bandages. A punching bag hung in front of the bed, swaying slightly in the stale air.

I looked back at Vi—really looked—and saw her at the lowest point of her life. And all I could do was crumble into quiet tears. Seeing her like this broke my heart.

Then Vi glanced at me, and muttered "I don't need your pity, cupcake."

“Obviously, you do. This place is terrible, Vi.” I respond. “And my name is Y/N”

Vi closed her eyes, rolling over to her side, her back facing you. She wasn’t used to having people around. In her head, your presence there was just a waste of your time. However, she didn’t have the energy to argue with you. The fight and the alcohol had really taken away her strength. She remained quiet for a while, then whispered a question. “Why are you here..?”

I look to the side, my cheeks heating. “Why can’t you believe that some people actually care about you?” I ask, throwing her a half hearted glare. “Believe it or not, Violet, but I actually like you.”

At my words, Vi suddenly opened her eyes, a bit surprised. She looked at me over her shoulder, still lying on her side. Her voice was harsh. She didn’t believe my words, not even for a second. “Are you an idiot or what? No one cares about be. I don’t belong to anyone, and no one belongs to me.”

That cold and defensive attitude was just a front to avoid the pain of knowing the truth. At that moment, she felt more vulnerable than ever.

I stalk closer, anger at her and the way she treats herself, lets other people treat her, leading your movements. I corner her against the wall, pressing my hand against her chest to keep her still. She inhales sharply, surprised at my boldness. I stare in to her eyes as I almost spit out every word.

“I. Care. About. You.” I bring my face closer to hers. “I. Like. You.” Even closer. Our noses are almost touching, but I don’t break eye contact. “And if you can’t see that; can’t admit that, then you’re the stupid one.”

“Why? Why do you care?” At that, I release her and step back, letting out a sigh.

“I don’t fucking know.”

Vi takes a deep breath, finally being able to breathe properly after I step back, but she remains leaning against the wall, staring at me. She swallowed again, glancing away.

“You don’t know?”

“No. Because every time I get close to you, you shut me out. Every time I express sympathy, you insult my intelligence. Yet nonetheless, I’m here. Take a guess as to why.” I sigh and slump down on a chair across from her.

She looks at me, breath still uneven. She pushes off the wall slowly, wincing as her bruised body makes its way across the room to me. Then she sinks down to the floor in front of me, back against the bed frame like a caged animal running out of space to run.

“Because you’re to stubborn to leave?” She murmurs, voice low, almost playful. But it lacks bite. After a pause, softer: “Or… ‘cause you see me.” She finally brings her eyes to me, and there is pain in her gaze. “And nobody’s seen me in years.”

Finally at a loss for words, I kneel in front of her, tenderly bringing my hadn’t to her face, hoping she’ll let me, hoping she’ll sink in to it, hoping she’ll do more.

She closes her eyes at my touch, a sigh escaping her lips. She leans in to my hand just slightly, her cheek against my palm. This is a new side of her I haven’t seen before.

I look at her lips, heat pulling within me, but I chastise myself. She’s drunk. She’s not thinking clearly. Still some par of me wishes she’d tell me— what? That she loves me? I huff in amusement at my stupidity.

She opens her eyes, noticing me staring at her lips. The heat between us is almost tangible.

She blurted out, voice barely above a whisper: “Kiss me. Please.” My eyes shoot wide open.

“Vi…” I whisper, wanting to kiss her so much, but doubting her judgement. “You’re drunk.” Her eyes flutter, breath unsteady. She shakes her head slightly, stubborn even in her drunk stupor.

“I know. I’m drunk. I’m broken. This room’s a wreck.” Her voice drops, rough but sincere. “But I know you. I know your your name. I know your face. And I’ve known for weeks—sober or not— that you’re the only thing… the only good thing left in this mess.” She reaches up slowly, callous fingers brushing the back of my hand where it’s still rested on her cheek.

“Kiss me, Y/N. Even if it’s stupid. Even if it means nothing tomorrow.” A weak smirk tugs at her lips, but her eyes are pleading. “Just let me feel something real for once.”

“That’s the thing though.” My voice breaks. “I want it to mean something tomorrow. I want you to mean something that I know you don’t.” A tear slips down my cheek, and I look away, embarrassed.

Vi freezes at the sight of me crying. She reaches out, slow and shaky, and brushes the tear away with her thumb. Her breath catches. She doesn’t look away like she usually does. She couldn’t.

“I do mean it.”

Her voice comes scratchy, low and raw. “I just… I don’t know how to be what you want me to be. I’m a mess, Y/N. I drink too much, I fight for blood boney, I push everybody off a cliff before they can jump first.” She swallows hard, eyes glistening in the dim light.

“But you… You stay.”A broken laugh escapes her lips.

“Even when I call you stupid. Even when I act like a jackass.” She leaned forward slightly, resting her forehead against yours, her breath uneven. I can hear her pounding heart.

“So if you want it to mean something tomorrow… then yeah.”

“It does.

I do.

Gods help me… but I do.”

Almost before she’s even finished speaking, before I can convince myself otherwise, my lips crash in to hers.

Vi lets out a soft gasp. For a split second, she remains still. Then suddenly, she responds. She kisses me back, her rough hands grabbing my clothes, pulling me close. The kiss is clumsy and sloppy, but she doesn’t seem to care.

Her hands leave my shirt, coming up to cup my face, holding me there as she deepened the kiss, her tongue brushing at my bottom lip almost desperately. I open my mouth, letting her in and her tongue pushes against mine.

Vi flips me over, pinning me against the floor, her mouth moving fiercely against mine. I break the kiss to gasp for air and she goes for my neck.

“Vi!” I gasp, tangling my fingers in her short red hair.

She growls low in her throat. Her mouth burns a trail down my neck, teeth grazing just hard enough to make me shiver.

“Say it again,” she demands, voice ragged, between kisses and nips. “Say my name.”

“Vi,” I whine desperately, tilting my head to allow her further access.

Her right hand pin both of mine above my head, her body caging me in. With her other hand, she caresses my side, like if she let go, I’d vanish. Like she was trying to brand me with touch alone. The drunk haze was still there… but this? This was something else.

Need.

“P-please—” I stammer, then shake my head. “Vi, wait. I want— we should—”

She freezes instantly, suddenly aware, suddenly ashamed.

She pulls back slowly, breathing hard, straddling my waist. Her eyes were wide, with that raw look of someone realizing they’d almost lost control all over again.

“…Shit. I’m sorry—I’m so fucking sorry, Y/N.” Her voice breaks as she scrambles off me gently. “I shouldn’t have— I wasn’t thinking straight…” I sit up too.

“No, no, it’s okay,” I rush towards her, secretly missing the weight of her body on mine. “I liked that, but… I don’t want to take advantage of you. You’re drunk.” I bite my lip, my eyes tracing her figure before I can stop myself.

“I’m fine,” she says, her voice rough.

A clear lie.

I tentatively reach for her, my hand grazing her waist, eyes asking for permission. Her breath hitches, her body shuddering beneath the feather light touch of my fingers. She arches ever so slightly into my touch, as if subconsciously seeking me out.

Her voice is barely above a whisper when she finally responds— rough, almost pleading. “Please...”

I let my hand rest on her waist.

I want so badly to kiss her, but instead I lean my forehead against hers.

“Can…” I swallow, wanting her to ask me to stay.