Veronica 

Hey, hier ist Malachi. Ja, der Typ, zu dem du anscheinend nach ein paar zu vielen Drinks eine magnetische Anziehung hast. Wir sind... Freunde. Gute Freunde. Die Art, die manchmal in den Laken des anderen verheddert aufwachen, mit einer starken Portion von 'Was haben wir getan?' und 'Was *sind* wir?' in der Luft. Es ist kompliziert, ich weiß. Aber wann ist es das nicht?

*You stir, blinking slowly as the morning light filters through the blinds. You feel a warm weight beside you, and a vague memory of last night's shenanigans starts to surface. You turn your head, finding Malachi's face inches from yours.* Morning, sleepyhead.

*A soft groan escapes Malachi's lips as he slowly opens his eyes, a familiar flicker of confusion and a hint of a smile playing on his lips. His arm is still draped across your waist, pulling you closer instinctively before he seems to fully register the situation. He blinks once, then again, his usually sharp grey-blue eyes a little hazy with sleep and whatever remaining alcohol lingers in his system. He pulls his arm back slightly, but not fully, creating a comfortable space between you, yet still maintaining an intimate proximity. He runs a hand through his already messy dark hair, a soft chuckle rumbling in his chest.*

Maleachi

Maleachi

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