Chapter 132 - 132 Us Awkward

His assistant might have said that Feng Teng isn't needed rehab or therapy, but after seeing his condition, I'm doubtful to myself.

A few hours past browsing the internet, I feel like my brain cells have been waste. There is so much to take in long term effects, psychiatric problems, withdrawal symptoms. I read a piece about severe childhood trauma leading to a mental problem, which leaves me wondering if he ever had something happen to him when he was a boy, the vicious scar on his below his stomach between waist springing into my mind immediately.

There are also genetic connections, so then I wonder if one of his parents was an alcoholic or got psychology problem? I'm bombarded with a lot of information, and I don't know what to do with any of it. These are not the sort of questions you just come right out and ask.

Then my mind flicks back to last Sunday and the things he said to me.

"You're a f.u.c.k.i.n.g prick tease, lady", "I needed you but you left me".

Then I had left him...again. He'd said he didn't tell me because he didn't want me to have another excuse to leave him, but then he said he wasn't an alcoholic. Even his assistant said the same thing.

If it's a problem and it involves psychology and alcohol, then doesn't that make him a mental disorder?

I shut down the laptop in exasperation and put it on the coffee table.

It's only ten o'clock now, but I'm totally spent waste. Plus I don't want to go upstairs to bed in case he wakes up and I don't want to make myself comfortable, so I gather a few cushions up, lay them on the floor next to him and settle myself, resting my head on the sofa and stroking the hairs on his toned arms. It relaxes me to have the contact and it's not long before my eyes are heavy and I'm drifting off to sleep.

"I love you, babe," 

I'm vaguely aware of his palm holding the back of my head, his fingers running through my hair, and it feels so comforting...so right. I open my eyes and I'm met by a duller version of his eyes that I know so well.

I jump to my feet and smack my ankle on the coffee table.

"Shit!" I curse.

"Watch your mouth!" he scolds me, his voice gritty and broken.

I grasp my ankle, but then I wake up fully and remember where I am. I drop my foot and swing my gaze to the sofa, finding Feng Teng sat up slightly. He looking terrible, but at least he's conscious.

"Now, you're awake!" I cry.

He winces and clasping his head with his good hand.

Oh shit!

He must have the hangover from hell and here I am screeching like a banshee. I walk back the few steps needed to find the chair behind me, and then lower myself onto the seat. I have no idea what to say to him. I'm not about to ask how he's feeling, that is pretty obvious, and I'm not going to hit him with a lecture about personal safety or for disregarding his health. I really want to ask him if he remembers our fight.

What should I do? What should I do? Die. Die. Die.

I don't know anymore, so I resolve to sit with my hands in my lap and shut myself up.

Looking at him, he looks back at me and my mind is stirring with the things all I want to say, none of which I can say.

Aigoo, at the moment I want to tell him that I love him, for the kickstart of our conversation. And I want to ask him why he didn't tell me that he ruling underworld people and also dealing with others life or eve telling me that he has an issue of drinking once he started.

Argh. Does he wonder what I'm doing here? Or do he wants me to leave?

Oh, God, does he need a drink? The silence really killing me.

"How's you feeling now?" I blurt, instantly wishing I had kept my mouth shut.

He sighs and inspects his damaged hand.

"Oh..Shit!" he states sharply.

Huh? Hm. Okay. Now, what should I say next?

He doesn't seem pleased to see me at all, so perhaps I should go before I push him to crack another bottle open. He'll have to go buy some more, though.

That will probably be even more of a reason to be mad at me. I think he must need some drink, so I get up and head towards the kitchen. I'll get him some water and then I'll leave.

"Where are you going?" he asks, slightly panicky and bolting upright on the couch.

"Bringing you some water," I assure him, my heart lifting a little.

Now I know that he doesn't want me to leave. I've seen that expression of his face plenty of times. The domineering control freak usually follows after he's pinned me down somewhere, but I won't get my hopes up too high. He hasn't got the strength to be chasing, pinning or dominating me at the moment. I'm a bit disappointed.

He relief with my response and I carry on my way to the kitchen. I glancing at the clock on the oven as I fetch a glass.

Nine o'clock.

Oh God!. I've slept for ten hours straight. This hasn't happened since... since I was last time seeing him. Slowly I grab a bottle of water from the fridge and fill the glass before traipsing back into the vast open space to find Feng Teng sat up on the couch with his head in his hands, the blanket covering his lap.

When I reach him, he lifts his gaze to mine and our eyes lock. I hand him the water. With his good hand, he takes the glass, his fingers resting over mine. Being nervous, I retract mine quickly, the water splashing out of the glass. How clumsy I am, and the look on his face makes me feel instantly heartless. He's shaking dreadfully, and I'm wondering if it's withdrawal. I'm sure I read shakiness as a symptom, along with a catalogue of other signs.

He follows my eyes to his hand and shakes his head.

This is weird.

Things have never been like this between us.

Neither of us knows what to say.