When Bad Luck Strikes [Maddison]

[Robin Little]

Robin hoped that she would come after him.

He hadn’t left her room to prove a point, though he realised belatedly that’s how it might come across. He hadn’t left because he was stubborn. It wasn’t any kind of pre-calculated plan to make her chase him. Robin Little, though Allurist, had absolutely no game. He wasn’t playing hard to get. He left because he truly believed she didn’t want him in there. Normally when a woman screams at a man, asking why he is in her bed, the man will take it to mean that she does not want him there.

Pausing in the guest bedroom he turned back toward the door – he wanted to hear her footsteps padding after him. Hell, he wouldn’t have minded if she screamed at him some more but there was nothing. Trying not to think about anything lest he lose his cool, Robin quickly pulled on some jeans and a jacket. He pulled some boots onto his feet. His phone and his wallet were securely ensconced in pockets. He wanted nothing more than to sleep – dawn wasn’t too far away and he had to go brave the streets and prey to all that is holy that he didn’t get stuck somewhere; that something didn’t prevent him from his destination.

One of which would be leaving the keys behind. Which he nearly did do. Halfway to the exit he had to turn back; he had to rifle through drawers and turn over pillows. He had to check under the bed and all through his bag. He couldn’t find them. Eventually he stopped, shouted **** really loudly, and pressed the heels of his palms into his eyes. He forced himself to backtrack, to remember where he had put them. In the kitchen. In that bowl, where other things went.

Once he had the keys, he had to pull out his phone to check said location. He had to try to navigate google maps, to see how far and how long it would take him to walk there. His hands were shaking. Blood was still embedded under his fingernails and he felt the bile rise in his throat. There was no stopping it. The kitchen tiles were barely spared the upsurge of vomit; as Robin tried to put his phone on the kitchen counter it slipped, corner headed straight for the floor. Robin couldn’t stop to assess the damage. He was running back to the bathroom, slamming the lid up on the toilet, and hurling the contents of his stomach into the bowl. All the chunks of food splished and splashed into the water, all tainted red with blood. The sight of blood only made it worse.

There was more. Every skerrick of substance within his system was severely and violently exorcized.

[Maddison (DELETED 8452)]

Maddison was in her own little world. She didn't even realize he was still in her home. She had thought he left. The blonde was curled underneath her blankets, tears sliding down her cheeks. She was feeling really upset. A whole lot of emotions were filling her. She felt dejected, rejected and just plain sad.

She wanted to be something he wanted. That girl he wanted, but she just wasn't it. Or so it seemed. Maddison was lost in her world, when Robin had yelled out a cuss word. It was only when she heard the phone hit the ground, that she realized someone was in her home. She didn't assume it was Robin. He had left, right?

So it must have been a burglar.

So in situations like these, the blonde slid out from under her covers and grabbed a heel. It'd help, right? She headed out of the bedroom and down to the main living quarters of her house. She didn't see anyone, but she did notice Robin's phone on the floor of her kitchen. She grunted and picked it up, leaving it on the counter top. There was a light on in the bathroom, so she realized he must not have left yet.

With a sigh, she dropped her shoe and walked into the living room. The blonde took a seat and wrapped a blanket around her. Her eyes were red and cheeks were puffy from the tears. She was sure to be a beautiful sight whenever he walked out of the bathroom and noticed her sitting in the dark in the living room.

There was a small light on in the kitchen that had cast a glow on to her tanned skin. Here she would sit, trying to stop the tears from sliding down her cheeks. She already had a stuffy nose from it. The blonde sat there and pondered what she would say when he stepped out of the bathroom.

[Robin Little]

When it came right down to it, Robin didn’t want to leave. There were plenty of reasons why, though the most prominent was his state of mind. He didn’t want to go back out on the street. What if someone had given the police his description and they were out looking for him? He didn’t want to be alone, but this close to dawn, now, was probably too late to go track down Lincoln. Where did he live again? Would he even answer his phone? Lincoln was human. He was probably asleep. But Robin also knew that he didn’t particularly want to sleep beside the toilet, on the cold hard floor.

Eventually he stood up and washed his face, rinsing out his mouth to clear it of the taste. He found a bristled brush to really thoroughly scrub beneath his nails – so much so that when he looked and saw blood he’d know it was his own. His own bright blues were rimmed red, too. Not because he’d been crying, but perhaps because he wanted to. But there was that ingrained, deep seeded requirement that men remain masculine. And crying was not at all masculine. It was all bottled up inside.

He figured he would resume his previous plan; he would quickly try to get to Sanctuary and to his own empty apartment there. He was tired, and he did not want to be seen, but he figured it would be better than being screamed at by Maddison the next night when she found that he was still in her space.

When he went to the kitchen bench to find that his phone was up off the floor, chips of the screen’s glass now falling out completely, he knew that he’d already been discovered. Maddison knew that he was still here. He glanced toward her doorway but caught sight of the woman herself sitting in the near-dark, watching him. He didn’t know what to say. He didn’t know what he could say. He’d said it all already. Except, maybe, to ask. He felt he should, given how certain he felt that she couldn’t want him there.

”It’s late. Early,” he said, glancing toward the windows. The sun wasn’t yet on the horizon but it would be soon.

”Can I please just stay until tomorrow night?” he asked. At least, then, she’d be expecting him when she woke up.

[Maddison (DELETED 8452)]

She heard the bathroom door open and knew sooner or later she was going to be spotted. She waited there, not saying anything. The footsteps fell into the kitchen. She had moved his phone, he'd know that she was in the living room. Even if he went towards the door, he'd see her. She stuck out like a sore thumb.

The blonde stood up, still only in her underwear and camisole. She didn't feel good. She herself felt like she could wretch up the night as well. There wasn't food in her system so it was just a nauseous feeling. She headed towards the kitchen, slipping past Robin to grab a water bottle from the fridge. Maybe it would help her to calm down.

On her way out of the kitchen, she stopped when he spoke. The blonde gave a shake of her head. She hadn't ever said he needed to leave. She figured he wanted to leave. She stepped up to him, he'd now be able to see her red-rimmed eyes from all the crying.

She took a deep breath, kissed him for about ten seconds and then stepped away from him, heading towards her bedroom.

"I never said you had to leave."

She headed into her bedroom then, leaving the door open. It was a silent invitation that he could come in if he wanted. She wasn't sure he'd get it, but she was hoping. Sometimes men could be really stupid. Maddison set her bottle of water on the bedside table and then slid into her bed, waiting for him to join her.

[Robin Little]

The rimmed red of Maddison’s eyes were a shock to Robin. When she stood directly in front of him, when he could see the way her skin was bright with the heat of her tears, he wanted to ask why. But then she put her lips on his, and he forgot the question. He breathed in that kiss like it was fresh air, like it was medication for his illness. His hand rested on Maddison’s hip; it didn’t last long enough for anything else to happen.

And when she left, he stood there with empty hands, eyes closed as he processed the single sentence that she had uttered.

No, technically she had not asked him to leave. It was an assumption that he had made. Robin was not so well versed in the ways of women, but he had come to his own male consensus that shouting did not equal welcome. If Robin could be compared to any kind of animal, it would be a dog. A tame, pet dog who only had to hear the sound of a raised voice to slink off with its tail between its legs. And just as dogs can sometimes be clumsy, they are most often forgiven for their mistakes. Because they are dogs. Sometimes it took Robin a while to understand what his mistakes were, and what they meant.

Although he was still confused about why he had been shouted at – he got it, on the surface. Literally, he got that she was upset that he’d walked out of the bathroom when he had. Had she forgiven him? Perhaps it was best to say nothing at all.

Shuffling after Maddison, Robin lingered by her door only to push his feet from the shoes he’d only just pulled on, the jacket having been removed and draped over one of the dining room chairs. Still fully clothed otherwise, he closed the door before wandering over to slip between the sheets. He sidled in close to Maddison, to put his arm around her. It was a silent thanks. A sigh was released as his body relaxed, the tension slipping free from his limbs.

”Tell me a story,” he said. The last time they slept in the same room, she’d requested the same thing of him. She’d wanted a story. Now, he wanted one in return. Yes, they could talk about what had happened. They could talk about what it meant for them. But there’d be time for all that. For now, Robin just wanted to hear a story.

[Maddison (DELETED 8452)]

Maddison waited patiently for him to come into her room. For a moment, she honestly thought he wouldn't. She thought he would just walk right out that door, like he had been about to do. She let out the breath she had been holding when she saw him in the door way. However, it took a moment for him to actually step in her room and at this point, she honestly thought he was getting ready to tell her he was leaving. But he then stepped into her room.

She didn't want him to leave. She wanted to just curl up and have him hold her. She was feeling very run down and drained. It had been a long time since someone had slept next to Maddison. Right now, she was craving it. He then shed his shoes and was right next to her in the bed seconds later. The blonde pushed her hair to one side and scooted in closer to Robin, letting him wrap his arm around her. All was forgiven. For right now. They would have to talk later though. Feelings had been stirred and several kisses had been brought out.

Then she was asked to tell a story. Maddison was never good at this. Should she tell a real story? Or a fake one? She didn't exactly know, so for the moment she just thought about what she had to say. She'd tell the story of her and Robin, making it a little more interesting.

"Once upon a time there was this radiant blonde would walked into the a club that she knew nothing of. This blonde had sun-kissed hair, smooth tanned skin and a killer body. Legs for miles. So, this poor writer male had been doomed for the start." A small smile cracked her lips. "He couldn't help but to catch his sights on the woman. It wasn't long before the blonde had settled at the bar and the bold male had asked her if she was looking for something better that he could offer. The intrigued blonde was well, of course, intrigued and she agreed. They went off to a private room where the big bad male had offered his blood to her and she had agreed to give hers back. Then the blonde turned into this gorgeous specimen of a vampire. Since then the male and female have been living under the same roof with so much tension that they could both burst. Then one night, the male was so bold and he kissed that beautiful blonde! Then they lived happily ever after, the end."

She chuckled some to herself and let her eyes fall closed. That was the end of her story and she was ready to sleep.

[Robin Little]

The story wasn’t one that Robin had heard, per se, but it was one that he knew. It was one that he had experienced. He might have criticised Maddison if he was in the mood – he might have told her he wanted to know more about her, a story from her childhood maybe. But there’d be plenty of time for that, and for the time being he was happy just being lulled by the sound of her voice.

He was the sire. Underneath it all, he was vaguely aware of how pathetic this all was. He lay here seeking comfort from Maddison, wanting to hold and be held because the physical contact helped him to feel needed or wanted, because it distracted him from what he had done earlier. Wasn’t it supposed to be the other way around? These freak-outs were supposed to happen early on. Robin was supposed to seek comfort and advice from his own sire. Maddison was the one who should be seeking comfort, for some reason or another, and yet here was Robin commandeering her for his own needs.

The awareness kept him silent, but the sun finally crept over the horizon and sleep took him away. For five minutes he drifted on a sea of semi-calm, half awake and half asleep, his eyes shifting back and forth beneath closed eyelids. And then the darkness descended and he was dead to the world.

By evening his limbs would be all wrapped up in Maddison’s. And against all odds, to both his delight and his surprise, there were no dreams. There were no nightmares that sent him flailing off the bed or waking Maddison up with a violent start. When the sun had set, if his dreams got intense his eyes would open only to see where he was, and who he was with. And he would calm – and remain where he was. There was no rush to be anywhere, or do anything. He would stay, until it was absolutely necessary that they move.