Chapter-35🌜Nicknames
William's POV
The sun has already risen when I wake up. I am not one of those people who have a routine after waking up like going to run or gym. I am more like a couch potato who will get sudden energy spikes and then I will want to do some cardio, some yoga, even weight training.
But consistency is what I lack. For me, art is everything. And an artist needs its muse, its inspiration to create. There's no constant source for that. Sucks, right?
So usually, mornings for me are quite different, quite nerdy.
I will wake up, then brush my teeth, then doomscroll to get some dopamine rush or a chapter or two of the book I started, then I will go to eat something for breakfast. Then take a shower and get ready for lectures. Either from dad or from professors.
Just kidding, there's no choice, it's mostly both.
Though that routine is fucked so hard, it can't walk. My fall semester has ended, Romie has died and now I have a ferocious gem stone on my finger. My eyes fall on the ring on my hand, the blue in the centre is a deep ocean, reflecting light on the surface but absorbing some of it.
And then there's the black-this is doing exactly the same thing Zane did that day. Taking away every ray of sunshine captured by the ring and leaving behind maddening darkness.
I look away and then my eyes land on something that I should have noticed long ago. Took me so fucking long to see there's someone lying on the sofa close to the window.
And it's undeniablely a man. The bare broad back peeking out from the partial warmth of the blanket can't tell me otherwise. Then there's his face buried inside a pillow, in what looks like the most uncomfortable position ever.
I pull out of my duvet as I walk closer to the sleeping beauty-more like the sleeping monster, if you ask me. He is a monster, no literally, because his head is halfway hanging from the sofa as his humongous body tries to contain itself on this petite little piece of furniture.
Even after all that, he still looks deep in sleep. This time looking actually peaceful-even a little bit vulnerable too. You can't look at this man and tell that this man runs the underworld. As I listen closely in the silence in the room, I hear the soft snores coming out of him.
I hate people who snore, I can't sleep around someone who's a part-time pig at night. But he doesn't sound like a ragged carburetor waking up after a long time. More like a purr of a tiger resting in a cave. Completely at its glory and no tension of the thundering clouds outside.
And I despise that. My whole body yearns for this kind of eternal rest. Since Romie, instead of a rest from all the chores, sleep itself has become one. Instead of restoring, it feels like I drained energy when I wake up. Every morning I would feel more tired than the night I slept.
It's like even after she's gone, she's still there. But she only meets me in the darkness of the night. In my dreams, I revive all of our sweet moments and when I wake up, I feel the hollow of my heart getting deeper. Because she will be gone, and just the bittersweet memories left in my arms.
Last night was different though. Instead of dreaming of her, I woke up like a blank canvas. No remnants of her in my dream, or any dream in general. Just blank. I won't say I was well rested, but I didn't feel her last night.
Is she that angry with me? Has she left me in the dreams, too?
My cycle of self-loathing breaks as the pillow falls completely from under his face with a soft thump on the carpet. Leaving his face now hanging completely down. But he still doesn't wake up and the smooth and steady flow of his snores keeps going as it was.
Hey bhagwan...
I shake my head at him. Is he Kumbhakarna or what? That would be kinda funny though. Italian Kumbhakarana will be hilarious. But seeing he was known to be built like a truck and slept like a bull, the shoe fits...
Even half his leg is falling out now as his knee pokes outside. It's his fault!
He shouldn't have slept on such a small sofa in the first place. Like is it his first day in his body? Because a guy that big will definitely not be comfortable on that tiny thing.
I hunch my knees to pick up the fallen pillow. I hold it tight as I glare at his sleeping face. My nostrils flare with a small exhale as I move forward, deciding whether I should smother him with it or just put it below his face.
Some other time...
I put my hand under the side of his face as I raise it back up, before putting the pillow right where it was before.
His face lands on the pillow, but not completely, because my hand is still there.
My fingers scrunched inside the soft waves of his hair.
Not painfully, just holding the silky threads between them.
I didn't know his hair was that soft. Usually they are either mused or slicked back, never falling this freely on his face. His hair is darker than mine, and his waves are curvier. Not complete locks, but something voluminous.
I pull my hand back as if it was caught on fire, because what the hell am I thinking? I don't care about how his hair looks when it's messy. Ugh.
But a sharp hold on my wrist stops me, as he grips it. Fucking hell!
When did he wake up? And how long ago? Oh my god, he will think I am a creep staring at him while he was asleep.
He will be kinda right-
Fuck off!
Zane just stares at me, no sign of the earlier slumber he was having. And now looking completely fresh, not even a single pillow line on his face, even after sleeping in such a weird position. There's not even any puffiness...
Is he even real?
Zane raises his brow at me and his eyes are unreadable, but somehow I still feel my gut twist under them. "What were you doing?" His voice does come out raspier than ever, almost like a growl, but not quite one.
Growls aren't this smooth.
"I..." I have no answer to this. What will I even tell him?
That I was playing with his hair? Or that I was helping him with the pillow?
Hmm...
I can't pick which will be less embarrassing and will sound more logical.
"I tripped because that pillow of yours fell.
" I lied with exasperated eyes. "So I was just putting it back. "
"Just so I don't trip again!" I add, to soothe the uneasiness. And in reply, he just hums. Eyes still cold and not giving away anything. I clear my throat as I look down on his hold on my hand. "That was it... now will you?"
"Mmm, I don't believe you." He tells me, and doesn't let go of my hand.
"Excuse me?"
"You heard me."
"What is there to not believe?" I sneer out. "I told you. I slipped!"
"Slipped? Interesting. Because, earlier you said you tripped..." The poker face breaks and I see the amused smile on his face.
"Fuck off! You know what I mean!" He had me on chokehold for a second. Motherfucker. "Now let go of me." I ask him, this time thankfully not that high.
"Hmm, whatever you say Gattino..." He finally releases my hand. "Good morning to you too, by the way." A beaming smile curves his lips.
"Morning." I say before I recall the word he called me. "Gati- what? What does that mean?" Is he cussing me now?
He sits up as he stretches his arms like a cheshire cat. "Some secrets should remain secrets, Gattino." This coy bitch!
"Again?! Tell me what it means, or I will google it myself!" He can't just call me stuff now.
"But I don't want to..." He trails and I turn around to pick my phone up from the table. He huffs as he stands up, "Okay-okay! It means you are a feisty cat."
I turn back to face his unapologetic face. "I am what again?!"
"A wild and feisty little kitten, with his claws out twenty four by seven." The nerve of this man! I am not a wild fucking 'kitten'. "What? You are one." He looks at me deadass.
Well two can play this game. "If I am a "feisty kitten", then you are hmm..."
"Then what am I?" He asks with a smirk.
"Chamgadad!" This time I grin and his brows furrow with confusion.
"What does that mean?"
"It means you are a bat." My grin widens, god this fits him so well.
"Like the cricket one?" This dumbfuck-
"No. The bloodsucking one." Because he fucking drains my blood dry like one.
He puts his hand on his cheek as he wipes his invisible tears. "That was harsh, I'm hurt." Is he though? Because that fucker is looking brighter than ever.
"Whatever..." I turn around with a sigh. "I am going to take a shower." I start walking towards the bathroom I used last night. God, I want a retelecast of those jets. My muscles are feeling so tight today.
He rushes forward and stands right in front of me. "Well I want to shower too."
"So what? Shower after I am done." I tell with a roll of my eyes.
And this is the first time I notice that he's almost naked, apart from his boxers on, and his sculpted body completely exposed.
He is built like a goddamn Greek god. Just muscles, and highly defined proportionate features.
His arms are tatted with ink and his olive skin is scattered with some tiny scars on his chest and one right on his collarbone.
I avert my gaze from him. Why the fuck is he almost naked? "Hmm, why can't you shower after me?" He teases.
"Well because I said it first, so I will shower first." I still keep my eyes away from him.
But he comes forward and stands right in front of my line of sight, his abs popping in front of me. "It doesn't work like that." He says dismissively.
I raise my head back with irritation, "It sure does!" God, he brings the worst out of me. I swear I wasn't this short-tempered before! "Why are you even here? Aren't you a billionaire or something, like go get your own room!"
All the teasing leaves his face and it goes back to looking emotionless.
Huh? What's up with his mood swings? "The hotel is entirely occupied, as guests are still here.
This room was specifically booked for the couple, so staying anywhere else would have raised unnecessary questions.
Moreover, there are no rooms available." His voice comes out mechanically.
"Guests are still here? How long have you guys even booked the hotel for?" Damn, I thought as the wedding was done and stuff, people would have left by last night.
"Most of them will leave by the end of the morning and the hotel is booked till the first of January." Again monotonous, almost like I am talking to a chatbot.
"That fucking long? For what?" I exclaim, because that is totally unnecessary. But anyway, it does make kinda sense, I was asked to pack for ten days so...
"For the New year's gala." He doesn't explain more, and before I can ask, there's a knock on the door.
A/N??
Hii, finally uploadedddddd! How was the chapter?
Ugh, they are so domestic, like kiss already! ????
Cheezy ass nicknames and the banter ?? ouffff
Did you like it?
Who do you think is on the door?
And damn, they are staying in the same hotel with both of their families...
What could happen, right?
Thoughts? ??
Comments? ??
Votes? ??
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