Autumn Leaves & Pumpkins Please

sixteen | versace on the floor

october 29th

london, england

XAVIER'S PARENTS WEREN'T HOME, so we went to their mansion. The jetlag really hit me when I was chilling on their expensive couch, so I decided to get a warm bath to loosen all my tight muscles and let my skin finally breathe. Xavier gave me a tour through the huge bathroom with a circular bath in the middle, gigantic mirror decorated with the most beautiful lamps ever and of course a breathtaking view of the woods behind the mansion.

"Beautiful, isn't it?" He stood there leaning against the marble wall with gold in it and crossed his arms.

"Dallas is nothing like this," I said.

I felt the water of the bath before letting my robe dramatically fall onto the floor and getting into the bath tub. Xavier had seen me naked once and I had shaved my whole body before the departure to England – just in case – so there was no shame present.

"You looked better when I was drunk," he said with a huge grin covering most of his face. Even his eyes had this mischievous twinkle in them, so he must've really liked that comment.

"Alas, w***e's opinions don't matter in society." I closed my eyes and let my body sink into the warm water. It was the perfect temperature, but unfortunately not hot enough to burn the haunting demons out of my soul.

I heard Xavier's footsteps coming closer and closer until it stopped right beside me. It sounded as if he was opening a bottle of wine or champagne, but I didn't bother to open my eyes.

"Then your mother must feel left out." He handed me what felt like a glass and I sighed.

"Nice one, what's next? A Fortnite dance?"

He poured in a drink, so I finally decided to open my eyes. Bubbles of an expensive looking champagne caught my eye.

"Cheers," he said as he raised his glass.

"Cheers." I raised my glass as well.

He drank the beverage in one time. I watched him refill his glass and drink it again, but I didn't feel the need to insult him, because it was relatable. Sometimes I would drink a whole bottle in five minutes and there was absolutely no one to stop me. Well, maybe my liver could.

"It's pretty silent in here, isn't it?" he said.

"Don't talk, I'm trying to relax."

He jumped up and performed a pirouette, where after he started shuffling his feet like I had seen Noah Centineo do once. It was surprising that he had those moves in him, especially since he did nothing else than make silly comments and be stiff all day.

"Let's take our time tonight, girl," he sung as he closed his eyes and dramatically held his fist in front of his face, acting as if it was a microphone, "above us all the stars are watching."

He spun around again, ending with his hand up in the air and feet spread widely apart from each other. He did his best to apply an American accent just like Bruno Mars and I hated to admit that he was pretty good at it.

"There's no place I'd rather be in this wo-orld," he opened his eyes and pointed at me, "your eyes are where I'm lost in."

The last words of his singing echoed through the bathroom and repeated them in my head. It was the other way around; I usually got lost in his eyes. I smiled at him and he smiled back, where after he continued singing.

"Underneath the chandelier we're dancing all alo-o-one. There's no reason to hide, what we're feeling inside, right no-o-o-ow."

I was stunned by the quality of his voice. The rasp came out so perfectly and the way he sung all the words as if he meant it all. How he hit every single note in the song and the way he danced, f**k.

"So baby let's just turn down the lights," he slid towards the switches and dimmed the lights, "and close the door. Oh, I love that dress, but you won't need it anymore, no you won't need it no more."

He got back at me, kneeled down beside me and grabbed my chin.

"Let's just kiss 'till were naked, baby."

I grabbed his shoulders and pulled him closer to me, causing him to fall on top of me in the bathtub and cuss loudly.

"Versace on the floor," I proudly finished the song, bursting out in laughter after that.

He pushed a hand through his wet hair and I was enchanted by the waterdrops dripping off his face. They either dripped off his nose, or made their way down to his plump lips and finally ending up on his chin where they left the skin and ended up back into the bathtub.

"Witty," he mumbled completely out of breath. He sounded as if he had ran the marathon.

"Are you okay?" I asked.

He nodded, but seemed really worried. I heard him inhaling deeply a couple of times, trying to get his breathing back in a normal pace. He got out of the tub, undressed and hung up his clothes. I watched him carefully as he put a towel around his waist and looked at himself in the mirror. Again, he pushed a hand through his hair, but this time looked at the hand afterwards. Lastly, he slowly touched his nose, breathed in deeply and left the bathroom without saying a word.

When he left, he seemed to take the brightness and happiness with him. Left the room cold and gloomy as if there was a storm coming up. Clouds got darker outside and stars disappeared.

The man was unpredictable. One time he would do the most spontaneous things and ten minutes later he would become this grumpy old grandfather who wasn't used to anything. It frustrated me – why wasn't he just normal? Why couldn't he act normal just like any other decent person?

Ten minutes later I came out of the bathroom, tip-toeing in my satin robe to the living room. Suddenly, I heard a loud 'f**k' from an unknown room, so I went on adventure following the waves of sound. It was the kitchen where we kissed during the party. I quietly opened the door a bit so I could see what was going on inside; Xavier had turned his muscled back to the door so he wasn't able to see me, both his fists on top of the kitchen island and his shoulders very tensed. He was breathing so loud that I heard it all the way from the corridor.

He needed a moment. I was sure of that.

I tip-toed back to the living room and got upstairs where my suitcase was. I got dressed into a cozy outfit, put my hair up in a messy bun and waited for him in the living room when I was done.

When he passed me, he didn't even bother to look at me.

"I'm tired. Good night."

october 30th

The next morning he woke me up for the brunch with his family. When we got into the car, I started talking.

"How was the fap?"

He looked at me and frowned his brows.

"The what?"

"m**********n, yesterday night. If you stayed up I would've helped you with that."

"There was no need – I cummed all over the ceiling."

"You're the worst," I laughed. He laughed too, but not for long.

"Are you alright?" I asked.

"Yes," he replied, "there's just a lot to worry about right now."

"The company?"

"Mainly, yes."

"That's not why you acted so weird yesterday."

"Autumn," he looked at me ever-so intimidating and paused for a second, "I will never be the man you want me to be, accept it already and if you can't, get the f**k out of my car."

"No emotional value," I said, "just us trying to get something out of our deal."

"Says you," he snickered coldly.

"But if you need a friend, please act normal and nice and I'll be there for you. Easy."

"Friends are useless."

"What did they do to you?" I looked at him rather worried than playful. It wasn't a joke; I really wondered what people had done to him to look with such a negative vision on people in general. The only way to hate people is by getting hurt by them.

He peeked at me through his long lashes. His head was tilted down as if he didn't want to look at me at all.

"It's not them. It's their creator."

"What do you mean?"

He laughed a bit, then continued staring through the window. He loved to invent varied kinds of mysteries for me to be solved. His life was like a book – there were open spots which needed to be filled by the reader, in this case, me. Like a protagonist in a book, he would never tell me why he went to University of Texas MD Anderson hospital, why he had weird symptoms or why he was suffering from intense mood swings. Those factors got stuck into one's head causing them to feel the biting urge of willing or even needing to figure out what was behind it all. The more Xavier kept quiet, the more I wanted to browse through the book of his life.

As much as I hated it, it still served me well, because with Xavier there would always be this riddle, this puzzle which kept me interested.

"Have I told you that your ass looks brilliant in that dress?" he asked.