Treble Clef IPA // Roleplay With Eris

Baylee didn't even realize what he was doing until he got her onto the counter. The frustrations of his life, the confusion of his feelings, and his moral standards were thrown into the wind from the moment their lips met to the point he opened his eyes. The inhibitions that formed walls in his brain were washed away by a wave of alcohol and hormones and he ran purely on instinct. That was, until he realized what the fuck he was doing.

He broke the kiss and took a couple of steps backwards, sobering up in milliseconds. The feeling of her hands on his back still seemed to taunt him. The taste of her lips was still on his tongue, a mix of vodka and…something sweet that was intoxicating. Yet, no matter how much he wanted to taste it again, he couldn't bring himself to fall back into her embrace. Stupid sobriety. Gets in the way of everything.

"I'm gonna….go to bed," Baylee mumbled, staring down at his feet as he walked out of the kitchen. The blush on his face so strong it was creeping down his neck.

If anyone had been looking, they would have found the shock on Mila's face comical. She watched Baylee leave without a word. Not that any words would have stopped him, even in her rattled, drunken state she knew that he would have kept going. Although Mila did note his blush with a hint of pride. Maybe she should go after him?

She slid off the counter and padded–stumbled less than gracefully–out of the kitchen, but the soft click of Baylee's bedroom door closing rang like a gunshot through the house. Mila froze, fingertips outstretched to touch the wood. Sounds of running water and soft cursing could be heard from the otherside. "I don't understand…" She whispered. They kissed. It was a good thing…right? Despite everything that happened eariler, they had kissed.

But here she was standing alone–again. Mila turned away from the door, pressing her hands to her face as she stepped back into the living room. She'd fucked it all up. She shouldn't have kissed him, but she couldn't help it–that smile of his… "Fuck." Mila paused only to slip into her pyjamas before passing out on the couch. Future, sober Mila would have to deal with it.

Baylee woke up at around 9 the next morning, his body moaning in protest after its first sleep in 4 days. The bartender ignored it and tossed the comforter off of his body, not even realizing he'd changed into a pair of shorts and a tank top before he went to bed. Slipping onto his feet, he half-waddled over to his closet and pulled out a hoodie. He didn't feel like having another moment like yesterday, so his scars would be hidden behind cloth sleeves.

Mila was in the kitchen, still dressed in her PJ's. She appeared to be handling her hangover well, although he couldn't see her face since she had her back turned to him. Her PJ's were….cute, actually. Hugged her figure in nice places. Accentuated her figure well…Christ. He felt like a pervert checking her out.

"How long have you been up?" he asked, trying to distract himself from his dirty thoughts.

Mila turned, still very much sleepy-eyed and clutching a giant mug of dark coffee close to her lips. She gave Baylee a soft smile. "Long enough to make coffee. Would you like a cup? I hope you don't mind I used my own beans. You didn't have any?" A pale hand waved over to the tall black bag that had curling golden writing on it. Portugese to be exact.

The singer moved around the kitchen with familiarity, as if she'd been living their for months instead of barely 24 hours. She yawned rubbing at an alarmly dark circle under her eye, reaching up for another mug as she did so. It was obvious that she was still half asleep. Mila hadn't even bothered to cover the marking from the day before with make up, although it did look les angry than before.

As she passed Baylee again, she paused, turned and came back toward him. Standing on her extreme tip toes, Mila placed a feather light kiss on his lips. Her eyes had been shut the entire time she moved about. "Good Morning, Baylee." Another yawn, before she turned away.

Baylee blinked a couple of times in surprise, his body feeling frozen. Why did she just….It was so casual. Like something they've been doing for years. Like they were married. Unconsciously, he licked his lips, and tasted something sweet.

The familiar taste reminded him of last night's events. He…they….on the counter? What was in that fucking vodka? He didn't even know he could feel like that anymore. The only thing that stopped them from waking up naked in the same bed was the fact that Baylee was awkward as shit.

"Fuck." It was spoken with such aggression that it surprised even Baylee. He was mad at himself, though. SHe did nothing wrong. "……Mila? What happened last night?" Please tell me it was a fucking dream.

Very suddenly, Mila was fully awake, her heart throbbing in her chest. She was frozen, facing away from Baylee, mid pour of his cup of steaming joe. His explative had caused her to jump, slipping the hot liquid on her hand, but the pain barely registered as she put both the mug and the pot down with exaggerated slowness.

Oh shit. Oh fuck. Was had she done? Had she just kissed him out of the blue? So casually? Was she so absentminded? How mad was he? She peeked at him from behind her hair. Baylee's expression was thunderous. Mila's heart squeezed and, unbelievably, her lip wobbled. Was it such a horror to care for her? To be kissed?

"We kissed…on the counter…You don't–you don't remember?" Mila's voice was so small. Well 'seriously made out' would have been a better way to describe it, but Baylee looked ready to explode. She was so confused.

Son. Of. A. Bitch. Here he was preaching how they should take it slower and try and get to know each other better, but not even 4 hours later he was fucking making out with her. How could he be so stupid? He knew how he got when drunk. The beer goggles were a real thing for him, so he made it a point to only drink alone. To avoid situations like this.

Oh, god. She looks like she's about to cry.

"Yeah…yeah, I remember." Please stop looking at me like that. You make me feel like I'm the Boogeyman. "I ain't mad at you, búp bê," Baylee mumbled, running a hand over the stubble on the top of his head. "None of this is your fault. I'm pissed at myself. I get really…handsy when drunk, so I shoulda never came close to that fucking bottle." And the kiss was nice.

Frowning hard, Mila turned to completely face him. "It's not like I stopped you or anything!" She threw up her hands in frustration. "Actually– you know what? I was the one that kissed you. I crossed your confusing boundary. You're allowed to be mad at me Baylee." Her voice cracked, eyes shining in the morning light.

"I ruined dinner. I kissed you. If i wasn't so goddamn pushy, none of this would have happened. You can't blame yourself! And–and–" Fuck was she crying? No, but she could feel it coming. This was the absolute worst. Words were just pouring out of her, no ryhme, no reason. Mila couldn't tell who she was mad at. Herself or Baylee. Herself because she couldn't just leave this little bodunk place behind her because of the tiny bit of peace she had found here in his company. And Baylee because he was so damn confusing. Hot and cold. Hot and cold. "And kissing you felt wonderful and now I can't tell what you want of me!"

There. She said it. Or something. She said something.

"I don't know what I want." She said he could be mad. That it was alright. He should be mad. If that was the case, why couldn't he raise his voice? Anger was the one emotion he was good at. The fact that even that wasn't working correctly made him…confused. "This ain't my shit, man. Feelings. I spent about 4 years without anyone other than Berry. Even my sister doesn't talk to me. Then you come in and it's….terrifying. All these fucking emotions. I wanna hold you forever and run as far away from you as I can at the same time. I just….don't get it."

He wrapped his arms around his stomach and leaned his back against the bar, barely a foot away from where they had made out. His heart felt ready to beat out of his chest as he stared down at his feet, trying to sort through the web of emotions masking his clear thoughts. Did he just ruin his chances with her?…Maybe he did. But at least he was honest.

The steam fizzled out of her as fast as it had reared up. Confused. Mila understood that more than anything else right in this moment. A part of her was telling her to bolt, vanish, wind up in another city–town–place–where she could forget about all of this…Jacob, the bar, Baylee… But the fact that another part of her had suddenly appeared and wanted to stay, because of how just standing next to Baylee made Mila feel like she was breathing for the first time since her Aunt died. Made all the mess in her head quiet. She never wanted to let it go.

Confused. Right. They both were.

Mila had been staring at him this entire time, her lip wobbling on it's own accord. How could she tell him that she was just as terrified of him as he was of her? That kiss had been lightning in her body–Mila had even dreamed about it the night before–but Baylee was still something she couldn't wrap her head around. "I don't know what I want either…I've spent all this time running, but now I can't seem to take another step. I can't–I don't know how to do thing stuff right." Mila finally admitted it. But I want you in my life.

Baylee scratched the underside of his chin as he stared out the window in the kitchen, that stone-cold look on his face again. Anytime he felt any emotion, he put on that mask to hide it from the world. It was his shield in more ways than one. It kept him and the world from his feelings, the way he liked it. Although….it wouldn't be fair to Mila if he did that to her. Relationships are based on trust. If he didn't trust her with his emotions, this shit would fall apart.

He turned to her. He wasn't scowling, nor was he smiling. It was a…neutral expression. Maybe the hint of a smile even. For once, he looked the 25 years old he was instead of the 45.

"We'll figure it out together." That was a promise of a future for the two. Or at least a promise that there will be effort from him.

Tilting her head to the side, Mila considered his statement. Obviously, she liked the sound of 'together' because that Baylee wasn't going to kick her to the curb. He was going to try, and who would she be if see didn't rise to that peace offering he was laying before her? "Together." She murmured in agreement. A soft promise from her that she wasn't going to bolt in the middle of the night.

"I guess," Mila looked down at her hands, unsure of how he would react to her next words. God she wanted to hug him, needed that comfort right now. She felt so alone in the cold tile of the kitchen. "I guess we should set some boundaries?" It was all going to fall apart if they kept getting drunk and making out that was for sure.

"Well, for one," he said, tapping the counter, "This? Off-limits." Baylee's barely there smile grew slightly at the snort his joke elicited. "But….yeah." They both paused as they thought of potential rules. Anything that happens when we're drunk doesn't affect how we are sober. If only he could manage that. But…. "We can't be drunk together. I'm handsy and you're wild when we're drunk an' those two don't mix well, so whenever one of us starts drinking, the other one can't." For now, at least. Now that he'd accepted the situation he was in, the idea of kissing Mila seemed sooooo tempting.

Mila nodded, rolling her eyes at the first thing that decided to come out of Baylee's mouth. But the smile that broke her facade was sincere. "There's no fun in drinking alone." She muttered, crossing her arms, but immediately back tracking when Baylee arched a brow at her. "But I agree! I agree! Jeez–" A laugh broke through her guard as well. Mila tapped a finger on her chin, thinking. Her gaze unintentionally tracked up and down Baylee's form as her mind drifted. She wasnt entirely a fan of boundaries, but they needed them–if she wanted to stay, they needed them. Lordy, he was fit. "No kis–touching?" Mila gasped out, she sure had a talent for getting distracted at the wrong time.

"I……don't know about that one," he admitted, blushing slightly the moment he said it. "The kissing part I agree with, but…..friends hug all the time, right?" Baylee looked down at his hands as the sentence wore on, feeling more and more awkward. Did he sound desperate? Needy? A mix of both? "I feel like…putting too many boundaries can be as harmful as having none at all, y'know?" Was he finding excuses? Abso-fucking-lutely. And it felt like a good one, judging by her expression.

That was enough for her. Mila dove across the kitchen, colliding entirely into Baylee. Her hands clutched at his back, as if truly holding him tight would make her feel any better. Again, she'd instigated–fucking hell–but Mila needed it so bad. The comfort, the warmth, the security…everything. It had nothing to do with her attraction for Baylee, but everything with her need to feel something other than lonliness. And with the way Baylee's arms crashed down around her after a moment…maybe he needed it too. "I'm sorry…" Mila mumbled into his chest. "I needed a friend hug. It couldn't wait…call it an emergency."

"Yeah…" Baylee agreed, hugging her a big closer. If it was even possible. "It been a rough couple of days." For once, the urge to pull away from Mila wasn't there. It was…comfortable. Being able to have physical contact with someone without it involving him punching someone in the face.

He was sad, admittedly, when she pulled away. Now that the air had been cleared up between them, he found his attraction towards the woman in his home had grown even stronger. And it was sucky timing, as well. Just as he began thinking, Hm, maybe kissing isn't such a bad thing, they set up rules that outlawed it.

Did he know he was staring blatantly at her lips? Mila gave him a wary look as she pulled away a bit more, stepping completely out of his reach. She was going to respect the boundaries that they made. Even if he kept looking at her like that. Christ. Mila smiled, lips curling slow enough for him to know that she had caught him looking. But Baylee didn't seem to care and she was surprised when his own lips copied the motion.

Crap. Boundaries–what now? "Anything else we should keep away from?" Mila asked, folding her arms over her fluttering heart. Her stomach decided to give a mighty growl at that point, which caused the both of them to laugh awkwardly at the sudden noise. "Hopefully, food is not a boundary?"

"Not at all," he said, finally averting his gaze to the fridge. "Eat anytime you're hungry. I figure you got some things that you want t' have in there, so just leave a grocery list out sometime and I'll go on an errand run. I'll get you an air mattress, as well, since that couch out there is a piece of shit."

When did he become this bold? Openly staring at her lips? Smiling when she noticed it? It's like the roles have been reversed. Now it was him who couldn't keep himself back while she kept her distance. So. Fucking. Confusing.

"Maybe a piece of shit for your tall ass, but for a bite size human like me it's actually comfy. My air mattress was on it's last life, too. Poor thing. It's travelled with me since the beginning when I left Se– When I started my road trip. I could use another blanket though? It get's pretty cold out here at night…" Mila's voice trailed off as she looked through drawers, making a noise of victory when she came up with a notepad and pen.

She ducked around Baylee, opening the fridge. The pen flashed in the morning light as she immediately began writing things down. "I can do groceries to. Sometimes I can be kinda picky about food. Surprisingly, I'm allergic to a lot of things." Although Mila wasn't sure if he was looking at her, she shrugged.

"I know for certain you aren't allergic to eggs," he said, reaching into the fridge around her and picking out the egg and the milk cartoon. After setting the ingredients on the counter, he began searching for the pan. Finding it in the sink, dirty as shit was not the outcome he was hoping for, evident by his frown as he scrubbed the pan down with the abrasive side of the sponge. After a few moments of hard scrubbing under hot water, it was clean, so he slid it onto the stove and started the gas burner. "So, scrambled or an omelet?"

"I'm the omelet queen, but if you want to show off your skills–have at it!" Mila tossed over her shoulder as she kept writing things on her growing list. Picky indeed. But when Baylee peeked over to see what she was writing, he saw that she was meal planning and what she had written down made his own stomch grumble in need.

"I think I can take care of this today. Do you have work tonight?" Mila asked, tossing the pad and pen onto the island and making herself comfortable in one of the chairs. She watched Baylee cook with interest, nursing the mug of coffee she had poured earlier.

"Yeah, sadly," he said, cutting out a piece of butter and slapping that bitch onto the pan. After a few moments of sliding it around the pan rapidly, he beat the eggs and the milk into a liquidy mixture and poured it into the pan. "Fuckin' omelets. How did anyone even discover how to make one of these fucking things? Same thing with milk. How do you just randomly decide to suck a cow's titty?" He was rambling, a habit of his' when he started cooking. His mom did the same thing but he never knew that's where he got it from.

Coffee spewed from Mila's mouth and she was pretty sure it came from her nose too, which was entirely embaressing. "Baylee–" Cough, laugh, cough, wheeze, laugh. "–what????–" Another round of coughing, laughing, and wheezing. Jesus Christ was she dying? What a way to go out.

Death by cow titty comment.

Mila struggled to breathe properly, hand pressed against her chest, but god if she wasn't still laughing. Baylee turned, amusement sparking in his eyes until he noticed how red Mila's face was and moved to bring her a towel. "I—okay." She said, smiling like an idiot. "What the fuck, Baylee?" Finally, a full sentence.

"Jesus, I was jus' talkin, man," he said, returning to cooking her omelet. "I didn't expect you to fuckin' die."

He pulled a spatula out of a drawer and slowly slid it under the egg mixture. With a small "hmmph!", he flipped the omelet. Well, at least tried to. The omelet decided it had its own plans, however, and simply folded over itself.

"Son of a…." Baylee grumbled, scratching the side of his face as he let the frustration sink in. "Well, I guess you're getting scrambled eggs, now. Sorry, it's been a hot second since I tried to make an omelet."

"I don't mind. Omelets on me next time?" Mila asked on a chuckle and a cough, which made Baylee look over his shoulder at her again, eye brows raised. She made a 'I'm fine' motion and he turned back around.

It was oddly domestic to sit here in the kitchen with Baylee. As if last night and this morning had never happened. Like they'd been doing it forever and it was a comfortable routine to get up and enjoy a silly conversation over breakfast. She was pretty sure friends did that. Good friends at least. God did she even know anymore?

Friends certainly didn't stare at each other asses though, or broad shoulders… Crap. Mila blushed furiously, just as Baylee turned around again, plate of eggs in hand.

"Yes, since I fuckin' suck at omelets all of a sudden," he said, walking over and setting the plate in front of her. His expression was…strange, at least for him. It was devoid of any scowl, any frown, and any wrinkle. A neutral expression, either happy nor sad. Just….content. He hadn't felt this good in years and his eyes showed it. His leaf green irises were typically dead and lifeless, but now they danced in the early morning sunlight like his brain was holding a disco rave.

Humming, Mila dove into the plate with surprising vigor. With all the nonsense between them, she really couldn't remember the last time either of them had a decent meal. Too long apparently, since she was inhaling her breakfast.

She watched Baylee move about the kitchen to make his own meal. He kept up a steady influx of chatter to which Mila only had to respond briefly to before he launched into another healthy stream. Honestly, the sound warmed her heart, despite it being more nonsense like his cow titty comment. Mila didn't mind in the slightest.

When Baylee finally sat down to eat, Mila took up the conversation in the same manner. Talking about anything and everything that came to her mind as she sipped her coffee. His warm green eyes never left her, causing the lightest of pink blushes to etch itself firmly to her cheekbones. "It's a bummer that you have to work tonight. Maybe I can tag along and just hang out?"

Baylee was in the middle of a bite, so it took him a few moments to chew up the rest of the egg in his mouth and swallow it. "Are you sure? The people that come in on Sundays are…really bad. Whole bunch of rednecks that come in after church looking to get wasted. They hassle every single girl that walks in there." Baylee was truly concerned for her safety….but also his own job security. Of one of them even looked in her direction, he'd probably jump over the counter and take on every single one of them.

"You did see me deck Jacob, right?" Mila asked, raising a brow. When Baylee nodded slowly, she continued, firmly ignoring the fact that his gaze had landed on the bruise still stark on her left cheek. "Then you know I can defend myself pretty well." She shrugged this time, still ignoring Baylee's shifting features. It was odd to be able to read him so well now that he was allowing himself to relax around her. At least a little.

His brows came down hard over his green eyes and he opened his mouth to say something, probably asking her to stay safe here at home, but– "I love it here. This home is so cozy and warm, but– I get restless…" Mila said softly into her coffee cup. It was her gentle way of asking him not to be overbearing. She knew he wanted–and would–protect her, but he couldn't ask her to change her extrovert ways. Mila still wanted to have fun.