#ofpoisoning

Noel licked at his busted lip, checking if the bleeding had stopped, and let out a gentle chuckle. He watched his little brother rub the side of his hand across his nose, wiping up the blood that had already dripped passed his mouth. His head rolled to the side, a low rumbling coming from the glass door, and dug into his pocket to pull out a partially crushed pack of cigarettes. "You look like shit," he commented, placing one of the least broken sticks in between his lips then tossing the pack over to his brother.

Once he caught the pack, Hansel's head turned so he could spit out the blood that had gathered in his mouth then he hissed back, "You're one to talk." He placed a cigarette in his mouth then threw the pack back, clenching his fists to hear his fingers pop and admiring the bleeding tears in his knuckles.

The silence filled the room once more as they passed a lighter and lit their cigarettes. Hansel's head fell back against the couch and exhaled smoke into the air above him. He could hear his brother move around in his spot on the other side of the room. "You still messing around with that slut who runs the jewelry store?" asked the younger male, picking his head up just slightly to look over at the other.

Placing his cigarette at the corner of his mouth, Noel gave a dull look to his brother and responded, "You still trying to get back with that red headed, hipster bitch?"

Hansel could only return the nasty look and simply spat, "Fuck you."

One hand pinned to the wall, she tried to shove him with the other but found that one immediately snatched and shoved against the other side. A threat was spat from her wine colored lips as he mumbled one of his own under his breath. Everything seemed to move slowly as they exchanged deep, vexed glares, fire clashing with ice. His grip tightened with every jerk of her arms though she knew very well he was much stronger and could hold her there for as long as he wanted - but what would he gain from keeping her there?

It would be so simple to warn her of consequences if she wanted to open her mouth to Erin but he had fallen silent, eyeing over her like a fox with his prey. Did he wish to do actual harm? No, his body was tense but there was no indication that he would physically harm her at that moment. Maybe the intention was simply to scare?

Mere seconds were passing as they stared each other down. Her lips came together tightly as she swallowed hard but the moment her lips parted and a gentle whimper escaped, the beast lunged. His lips hungrily claimed hers as their own, pressing almost violently together, and he could feel the vigor of her fight come to life once more as she tried to break free. The male's taller body moved in closer, meeting hers in full contact and cutting off her ability to truly fight him, but something shifted in her. The roughness of the kiss, the touch of his skin, the taste of whiskey on his lips had her arching off of the wall and into him.

However, as soon as it had begun it was over. When they elevator shifted, signaling they were stopping at the ninth floor, he released her, slamming his back on the opposite wall and darting his eyes away from her. Even she couldn't bring her eyes to look his way and when the metal doors opened, she rushed out to run to her apartment. Once inside she tried to catch her breath and mentally accept what happened had really happened but the reflection from a nearby mirror was all the confirmation she needed. What said more than red cheeks, messed clothes and smeared lipstick?

Her real issue? It wasn't that she had enjoyed it - but that she enjoyed who it was with.

Sitting up from the couch, slender fingers gripped at the thin blanket draped over the back and pulled it over her bare body. From her spot she could see the balcony doors cracked open and a dark silhouette leaning against the metal fence, a faint line of smoke drifting from the lit cigarette in his right hand. The beast in his calm.

Slowly she moved from the couch, tired legs picking her up and taking her across the messed living room, over to the balcony where her lover stood. As she pulled one of the doors open, she was slowly covered in the soft morning light and caught the dark eyes of the balcony’s occupant. A soft, huff-like chuckle could be heard as he placed the cigarette between his lips and inhaled. Her bright eyes watched the tip of the cigarette light up with the puff followed by the exhale of smoke from his thin lips.

The woman was in no way a smoker but something made her move closer to him, pressing her lips gently against his before the smoke was all gone. It flowed between the two before moving and dissipating above them. In the daytime, she often found herself craving his kiss, a taste mixed with cologne, nicotine, and sometimes blood. It was those days when she would be at his door the moment she returned to the Complex from work. No matter how many poisonous words were spat between them and bruises were left after each encounter, she knew he craved her just as much as she for him. Neither could resist the nightly call.

Had she been drinking that night, she probably would have said something affectionate, something that she would never tell him sober, but simply gave him a smile. Pulling away, she walked back into the apartment and dressed herself. Even when his cigarette was finished and he had returned inside, they no longer interacted with the each other. There would be no shared breakfast or promises to call later that day. No look back at him as her belongings were gathered and she exited the apartment. It was the calm after the storm but in the next night another storm would blow through; the day would be the deciding factor on the severity. No one wanted to call it love but at least one of them had fallen too far and knew they couldn’t pull themselves away.