Author's Notes: I should clean my computer files more often, lol.  A few hours ago, I came across another one of my silly (EMO) short stories which I have written around… two years ago, at the peak of a rather drunken frenzy.  Enjoy, if you can.

My hands are at your throat,
And I think I hate you.
But still we say, "Remember when…?"
Just like we always do.

- Until the Day I Die, Story of the Year

~

Rainy Nights

11:32pm.

I narrowed my eyes at the angry, incessant cursor on the computer screen.  It felt like it was mocking me, laughing at me with every blink- that short, vertical line that has become my constant companion during my late-night rendezvous with insomnia and homework-cramming.

Blink. Blink. Blink!

I had two papers due the next day, around five more tests to take, and another eight hours to suffer inside the hellish, four-walled prison they called a lecture hall.  The worst part is I despised my professors more than the subjects they taught- they are like the Devil's accomplices, brought to this beautiful world to wreak havoc among the students' happy, vice-laced lives.

Lazily, I reached out to the overflowing ashtray and took a half-burnt cigarette.  Mentholated, if you will.  Smoking had always kept me awake and kicking, though I knew I was slowly killing myself with every hit and puff.  I never really cared anyway- such is my decision, and I would gladly suffer the health consequences some other day—

There was a knock on the door.

I cussed under my breath as a trail of smoke escaped my lips.  Quickly, I pressed the cigarette butt against the floor and hid the ashtray under my bed.  The traces of it still stubbornly lingered in the air of my lonely dormitory.  It was almost midnight, so it wasn't most probably someone from my family.  I wasn't a legal smoker, no.  It was a secret well-kept from them.  And it would remain so 'til the day I die.

There was another persistent knocking. Rude much?

"Hold on, I'm coming!"  I rushed to the twist the rusty doorknob.  It threatened to fall off at my slightest grip, just like how my heart almost dropped to the floor when I finally saw who it was.  My eyes were probably fucking with me again.

What the—?

There he was, standing, soaked through and through with rain water, slumped against my open doorway, looking and smelling like he had just gotten a good drink.  His dripping jet-black hair was plastered on his head and his shirt, his eyes half-lidded and sleepy, and, oh God, his white shirt was clinging to his… his body.  And I found myself gaping a little too shamelessly.

He coughed, sounding like he had just drowned.  "Hi."

I blinked and gulped.  It took me a few more seconds before I found my voice again.  "H-Hi!"  I squeaked.  Shit, I never, ever squeak.  "What the hell are you doing here? It's almost midnight—!"

He chuckled that oh-so-wow chuckle of his.  It sounds a whole lot… sexier when was intoxicated, like now.  "Oh, I didn't figure out that I was so unwelcome here, so yeah, I think I'll just go—"

"No, wait!" I grabbed his arm and pulled him inside just as he was about to take a step back.  "it's okay, don't worry about it.  I just… wasn't expecting anyone tonight, you know—"

Smiling, he followed me inside. "Thanks."

~

I told him to sit down on one of the more decent couches and threw him a clean towel I had gotten from my dresser.  With such boyishness, he patted himself dry and slumped in his seat, clearly sober and exhausted.

"Sorry, I didn't call.  My phone's dead and that fucktard landlady at my dorm locked me out 'cause of the curfew," he told me with his eyes closed. "I'll leave first thing in the morning, swear."

I shrugged casually, and it hit me that I was in my very, very, very translucent night things.  Blushing, I grabbed one of the hoodies on my so-called "junk desk" and quickly slipped it on.  I had barely finished unpacking for week, which accounted for the frikking mess everywhere.  I shifted awkwardly and sat at the edge of my bed.

You have twice as many friends as I do, and I know you can crash into somebody else's place for the night, but you still chose to stay in mine.  I know what you want from me, and I'm not giving it to you, no matter how I lov—

Where the fuck is your girlfriend anyway? Is she busy making out with some other boy whom she thinks is better than you—?

She has no idea how lucky she is, you know—

"It's okay, no problem," I said with a smile.  I tried to find something else in the room that would catch my interest more than he does, but I failed.  Everything looked so ordinary and pale compared to him.  I just couldn't stop gawking at his…  Damn.

He opened his eyes.  "Do you have anything I could change into?"

"Oh, shit, yeah, sorry," I said, jumping up as I began to rummage through the clothes in my drawers.  When I found what I had been looking for, I handed it to him without a word.

"Wow, you still have this old thing?" he said, holding up a rather battered, dirty-white shirt.  "God, it's been around, what, three semesters since I gave this to you."

I'm actually surprised you remembered. 'Cause, correct me if I'm wrong, you treated me like shit for the past year and a half—

I grinned. "Yeah, it's been that long.  You can change in the bathroom if you want."

~

12:16am.

I loved the way he would put his strong arms around me at night- that feeling of protectiveness he would always radiate when it was just the two of us together in the dark.  I know it sounds lame, but our hands fit perfectly… his slightly calloused fingers intertwined with my soft ones.

I'd always sleep with my back to him, his face buried in the back of my neck, in my hair.  His soft, warm breaths were my lullaby, and it shushed me more effectively than my prescribed sleep-inducing pills.  It was a cool, rainy early morning, and it complimented the warmth of his body in ways that was mind-blowing.

He buried his nose deeper into my hair.  "You've been smoking again," he said in a gentle, non-accusing whisper.

I scoffed. "Yeah, well… You've been drinking a lot lately anyway."

"I told you to stop," he said as he traced the skin on my arm. "I don't want you to turn out like me—"

"Whatever I want to do with my body, that's my decision," I told him a little too coldly than I had intended.  I noticed him loosening his grip a little around me.  "Don't let the alcohol get to your head too much, it's not because of you."

Well, we both know that what I said now is a big, fucking lie.

I felt his hands creep to my bare legs, and I cursed myself for wearing a pair of shorts that night.  "Really…?" he breathed into my ear, his voice was laced with something which I doubted was chaste.  He pressed his lips against my neck, just below my ear.

Shit, not there.

"Tch.  You always get what you want, don’t you?  All the women you want, all the neat stuff, all the attention.  But it's never enough for you, isn't it?"  I shot back with a lot less bitterness than I wanted.

I turned around in his arms and his lips came crashing down on mine.

And then, I got lost.

~

6:01am.

I watched him slip on his now-dry shirt as turned his back on me.  Morning had inevitably come and I had a class in an hour.  Sleepily, I adjusted my night things to cover up anything that was supposed to covered and sat up, the linen sheet falling on my lap.

I wanted to cry, but I couldn't.

Hesitantly, I called him by his name, and he looked at me with those dark eyes that made weaker with every fleeting moment.

"Yeah?"

I swallowed a lump in my throat. "I… I'm sorry about… last night," I began, trying not to sound like I was choking on my tears.  Because I was.  "I… just couldn't d-do it.  I'm not ready…"

He smiled.  This was a different one- a whole lot different than the smiles he would flash those other girls he liked.  And I would desperately hold on to that even if it would cut through my skin.

"It's okay, it's nothing to me," he told me as he slipped on his shoes.  I stared up in silence as he walked up to me and gave me a quick peck on the cheek.  "Thank you for letting me stay here last night."

"You're welcome," I whispered.

With that, I watched his retreating back disappear.  The door shut softly, and I knew at that moment that a part of me had just left, along with the scent of alcohol, of smoke, of lies, and of, dare I say it, love.

I scoffed and lit up another cigarette.

It was my breakfast.