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“Are you going to distract me?” I muttered against his lips, which managed to survive my rough kiss.
“Not in this state,” he strictly muttered, making me chuckle as I lightly patted his shoulders for no fucking reason.
Yup. I’m losing my mind.
"Then why are you here?” Surely there was a reason. "Are you going to scold me like those two? Tell me to be a good boy and stop trying to kill myself?”
I laughed again as I shook my head.
“Me. Kill myself. What a joke. Unless dying lets me make a good old bargain with Death himself, is there really any point?” I offered and sighed dramatically. My head felt so heavy yet my mind was fuzzy. “You kill yourself once and everyone thinks you’re gonna do it again. That wouldn’t make Papa Dearest pleased at all. He’d be waiting to beat me on whatever side he went to.”
Spinning away, I was back before the wine cart once more. No one interfered when I tried to reach for the bottle of vodka, which made me grin in triumph as I grabbed a shot glass.
I filled it up then lowered the bottle, back to looking over the grand view of NYC.
Lifting the shot glass, I smiled the best I could while peering at the night sky that was thick with clouds of smoke. You could barely catch a glimpse of the stars, and yet it didn’t stop me from giving cheers to the legacy of a man who delivered good and bad memories.
“Cheers to Papa Dearest for fucking up my life and leaving when I proved myself to the world!”
Before I could down the drink, I felt the press of muscles from behind me just as the drink in my grasp was taken away.
All I had to do was look up to see it being downed by the Bulky Fucker, which left me pouting as I stared at him in dismay.
“Evil,” I grumbled, and I watched the man look down at me with his mouth still filled with my shot of vodka. “Give that back. It’s my offering of vodka. Not yours.”
The look he gave me was one of those ‘make me’ expressions, which was why I maneuvered my hand behind me just to tug at his tie. I was pretty positive he knew I wasn’t going to let him off the hook, which was why his mouth descended on mine before I could even spin around.
The burning fluid went from his mouth to mine, the exchange reminding me of when Onyx would have to give my medication.
And I’d refuse.
I broke the kiss and turned around to face him once more as I poked his chest a few times.
“Are you here to interfere? You’re not distracting me in the slightest,” I huffed and continued to poke his chest. “Whatcha hiding, hmm? Letting me drink when you know it’s bad for me. My Onyx Bulky Fucker of a Stalker Sucker wouldn’t dareeeee.” I slurred the last word before I chuckled and leaned right against him to whisper, “You’re an imposter, aren’t you?”
He just stared down at me, and the sight almost made me wonder if he pitied me. I bet they all did. I was a fucking mess.
A hot mess of alcohol and grief.
“You should sleep, Sweets.” He spoke far too slowly, and I squinted my eyes to try to figure out why he was speaking like I was a child trying to interpret the words.
Though squinting my eyes wouldn’t help me decipher the sound of a voice…obviously.
"Sweets? That’s not right,” I noted and tsked — my hand continuing its poking spree. "I’m Sugar! Sugar that’s sweet! Sweet like sugar! You put me in coffee and viola! You’ve got the perfect concoction of wakefulness. See. That’s what I need to take all the pain away. A good cup of coffee!”
It seemed like my new mission, and my tired eyes fought to look around and locate the coffee cart that had to be somewhere in this atrocious room.
I didn’t even know where the fuck I was, but it didn’t matter.
Papa Dearest is dead.
I took a step forward, which was rather stupid because I simply walked into my Bulky Fucker’s muscled chest. He gripped the sides of my arms to stop me from falling back. My balance was seriously fucked up because such a small impact was clearly doing wonders in making me dizzy.
"Move out of my way, Onyx! Jeez. So bulky…and shit. Blocking me from getting my coffee. Do you know the benefits of coffee?! It’ll take all the pain away. Heck, it can revive Papa Dearest. Will you give him some coffee?” I whispered the last part like it was some sort of secret as I further leaned against him. “Pour some coffee on his dead heart. I bet that would revive him. A bit of coffee and sprinkle some sugar and boom. Papa Dearest would be fucking alive!”
It sounded like the smartest shit I’d ever come up with, even though I swore my eyes were getting blurry from the declaration.
“That’s all I need. Coffee. Sugar. A bit of magic. Do you think Viktor would come along and help me? He’s a warlock! I’m his sidekick. Or chick? I’m the one who stands on the side and looks pretty!”
