Sweet tune ( karlnap )

Lightheaded

Pic by @Lighting2k on pinterest ^^
Tw: alcohol, light drugs.
I suggest rereading the chapter "Clocks" If you don't remember the moment i'm continuing rn because it might be a bit confusing otherwise.
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"Get out." He uttered sternly. It was cold, firm. With his right hand he pointed at the door, while the other one stayed rigid onto his side, closed in a tight fist.
By now i was nervously sipping on my drink, trying to ignore the uncomfortable air killing me but unable to distract myself from the discussion.
"You've always been a bitter little bitch, haven't you?" He smiled through gritted teeth as his hand approached Mr. Quackity's face, almost cupping it but getting cut off by a swift slap.

That intimate gesture seemed so natural, like they had already been so close before.
"C'mon, I need you." He whispered before pouncing to his lips, catching me by surprise and making me choke on my liquor.
"Shlatt!" He gasped, taking a few steps back and hitting his back against one of the shelves.
I started coughing, the side of my fist hitting my chest repeatedly to get the alcohol out.
I wasn't sure why or how whatever that was happened, but i could most definetely feel their freezing gazes pinned on me.

The tall man immediately retreated, his body getting rigid and his eyes turning cold. He franatically rubbed his lips with his fingers in an annoyed gesture of disgust and regret.
In the contrary, sir Quackity looked quite decomposed and embarassed.
The other simply turned to him and spoke quickly.
"Meet me at your office tomorrow morning. I need to talk to you."
And with those rushed words he left, slamming the door behind him.

A few seconds of icy silence passed between us as the only things moving were our hectic eyes clumsily meeting each other and running somewhere else immediately after.
He slowly approached me, his ashamed gaze low and his figure seemingly shrinking with each step.
"I'm so sorry, Karl. Shlatt is not a sane man, you see..." He started, licking his lips nervously and finally gathering the courage to look at me firmly.
"He...he..." He stuttered as if he was trying to find the right words. I almost couldn't recognize him.
"It's okay. Really." I stopped him, putting a hand on his shoulder.
In his eyes a spark shone again as he quickly sat down on the red armchair and crossed his legs.
"Where were we? Oh, yes. What led you to this career?"
He started, talking naturally as if nothing had just happened.

My eyebrows furrowed for a split second as i tried to catch if he was being serious or not.
He just kept studying me with his eyes of obsidian, never taking his liquid gaze off of me.
"I've always liked singing." I slowly said, leaving the half-full glass on the table and clearing my voice nervously.
I distantly observed one of the clocks from the hallway, not being able to read anything but ultimately deciding it was time for me to go.
"Thank you for inviting me here...i should go now."
I excused myself, standing up.
"You feel like walking?" He smirked, bringing his glass to his lips.
I squinted my eyes in hope his vague words would have appeared clearer in the air.
"Sorry?"
"I brought you with my car." He then rectified, leaning far back in the armchair. I lightly shook my head.
"Oh, right, yeah." I mumbled.

The trip back to my apartment was awful.
The seats felt gelid, the space tighter and the journey incredibly longer.
My knuckles stayed cold against the glass as my chin dug into my palms and my eyes languidly counted the trees passing by.
Abruptly, the cement got lucid, liquid, while quick water drops dived into its black surface and disappeared into nowhere.
They got angrier, more numerous and incredibly loud, knocking frenetically on the car roof.

"I can accompany you to your apartment, you mustn't have an umbrella on you."
He finally spoke, almost making me jump on my seat.
I slowly turned around, my gaze meeting his figure for the first time in whole minutes and immediately noticing his cold, deferential composure come back in his eyes.
I hummed, almost pronouncing a small "no" but getting interrupted by a loud thunder.
"I would appreciate that, thank you sir."
I then spoke, giving up on any chance of dodging the awkward moments i was most certainly about to go through.
"Please stop calling me that, i'm only a few years older than you." He laughed faintly, his right hand lifting from the steering wheel to lightly cover his mouth.
"Right, sorry Mr-" I started.
"Quackity, Quackity is good." He stopped me, smiling.
I awkwardly smiled back, closing my legs and keeping my tight fists on my knees.
"I'm sorry about before, I must ask you to keep it a private matter." He asked stern as his fingers scratched his arm frenetically.
"It's okay, really, I won't tell anyone. Accidents happen, and some people are inopportune at often times." I responded then, meeting his gaze as it softened with relief.
"Have a good night, Karl." He smiled as we parked under my building.
I thanked him, closing the door behind me and observing as his car sped back towards his house.
I didn't know people from Florida were all so weird.