Want Your Bad Romance
I Want Your Everything
The drive for the affair wasn't sexual. Our relationship didn't turn into a maze of strange motels and hotels and schedules of who's house was empty when. We still went on dates, talked, and enjoyed each other's company. I had a feeling the motivation for the affair was emotional - Vanessa didn't love him. Or, at least, show him much love.
He would pull me closer whenever he could. Sometimes, he would interrupt our conversation just to pull me into his lap, then begin talking again. He was full of little gestures, like squeezing my shoulder when he passed behind me or running his hand up and down my arm absently.
Finding things to do without being seen was difficult. We could walk the beach after dark, staying away from the bonfires. We could stay inside, at my house, and watch the sunset. We couldn't do much before night fell, and we didn't have many options afterward, either. We talked quite a bit, still.
~
One night, we were walking along the moonlit beach, hand-in-hand, the waves licking our bare feet.
After a considerable, comfortable silence, he said, "I miss this."
He spoke softly, absently, but I could hear the wistfulness in his voice.
"Miss what?" I asked gently, genuinely curious.
He took his eyes from the water to meet mine. He looked at me as if he didn't remember speaking. Then his gaze traveled out to the water again and he paused. I had decided to let it drop if that's what he wanted, but I had a feeling he wanted to answer.
He changed the direction of the course of our footsteps, and led me to a small outcropping of rock. He helped me up onto it, the climbed up and sat next to me, slightly lower. He rested his arm along my leg as if it were an armrest, and looked out to the ocean, where soft waves made the moon's reflection dance on the water. My hand fell unthinkingly to his hair.
"This," he repeated as an answer. I was simply silent, sensing there was an elaboration lurking just beneath the surface. He looked to his hand, which was tracing shapes on my knee. "To touch and feel - something," he said. "To have the simple feeling of skin on skin bring emotions to the surface… for both of us." He leaned his head back into my hand. "To talk for hours on end and be completely comfortable in silence. To simply walk down a beach in the moonlight."
He fell silent for a while, and I continued to run my fingers through his hair, and his hand still drew abstract shapes on my knee as we studied the dark water and night sky.
"I love her, you know," he continued after a few moments.
"Yes," I answered. And it was true. When I had sat across from him and Vanessa, beside one of my closest friends at that premiere, I saw the simple gestures he'd made. I'd been distracted by him - just, him - but I'd noticed them. How he'd grasp her hand when both of theirs were idle. How he'd rested his hand on her leg - I could tell by the angle of his arm to his body. He'd even tucked her hair behind her ear a few times. But not once had she made such a gesture to him. Perhaps she wasn't a fan of displaying affection in public.
He sighed after I answered, and we lapsed into a small silence once again.
"Listen to me, going on about -" he began, his tone drastically changed, frustrated at himself - For opening up to me? Or showing weakness? I wondered.
But I interrupted him. "Shh." I guided his head to rest on my leg, keeping my hand in his hair. He let me, moving his arm. "You can talk about her," I told him. "I want all of you - the skeletons in your closet, the ghosts in your past, even if you're not ready to talk about them yet. But I'm here when you are." I bent and kissed his temple, realizing I actually meant every word I said.
What he talked about - either now or someday in the future - may hurt me, but I realized I didn't care. If it made him happy, if it helped him to get those things off his chest, I could still be happy.
Talking about Vanessa was hard for me - I felt as if I'd been hit in the chest when he brought her up - but I could be there for him. That's something I was good at - listening. And I had a feeling this was just the tip of the iceberg.
He would pull me closer whenever he could. Sometimes, he would interrupt our conversation just to pull me into his lap, then begin talking again. He was full of little gestures, like squeezing my shoulder when he passed behind me or running his hand up and down my arm absently.
Finding things to do without being seen was difficult. We could walk the beach after dark, staying away from the bonfires. We could stay inside, at my house, and watch the sunset. We couldn't do much before night fell, and we didn't have many options afterward, either. We talked quite a bit, still.
~
One night, we were walking along the moonlit beach, hand-in-hand, the waves licking our bare feet.
After a considerable, comfortable silence, he said, "I miss this."
He spoke softly, absently, but I could hear the wistfulness in his voice.
"Miss what?" I asked gently, genuinely curious.
He took his eyes from the water to meet mine. He looked at me as if he didn't remember speaking. Then his gaze traveled out to the water again and he paused. I had decided to let it drop if that's what he wanted, but I had a feeling he wanted to answer.
He changed the direction of the course of our footsteps, and led me to a small outcropping of rock. He helped me up onto it, the climbed up and sat next to me, slightly lower. He rested his arm along my leg as if it were an armrest, and looked out to the ocean, where soft waves made the moon's reflection dance on the water. My hand fell unthinkingly to his hair.
"This," he repeated as an answer. I was simply silent, sensing there was an elaboration lurking just beneath the surface. He looked to his hand, which was tracing shapes on my knee. "To touch and feel - something," he said. "To have the simple feeling of skin on skin bring emotions to the surface… for both of us." He leaned his head back into my hand. "To talk for hours on end and be completely comfortable in silence. To simply walk down a beach in the moonlight."
He fell silent for a while, and I continued to run my fingers through his hair, and his hand still drew abstract shapes on my knee as we studied the dark water and night sky.
"I love her, you know," he continued after a few moments.
"Yes," I answered. And it was true. When I had sat across from him and Vanessa, beside one of my closest friends at that premiere, I saw the simple gestures he'd made. I'd been distracted by him - just, him - but I'd noticed them. How he'd grasp her hand when both of theirs were idle. How he'd rested his hand on her leg - I could tell by the angle of his arm to his body. He'd even tucked her hair behind her ear a few times. But not once had she made such a gesture to him. Perhaps she wasn't a fan of displaying affection in public.
He sighed after I answered, and we lapsed into a small silence once again.
"Listen to me, going on about -" he began, his tone drastically changed, frustrated at himself - For opening up to me? Or showing weakness? I wondered.
But I interrupted him. "Shh." I guided his head to rest on my leg, keeping my hand in his hair. He let me, moving his arm. "You can talk about her," I told him. "I want all of you - the skeletons in your closet, the ghosts in your past, even if you're not ready to talk about them yet. But I'm here when you are." I bent and kissed his temple, realizing I actually meant every word I said.
What he talked about - either now or someday in the future - may hurt me, but I realized I didn't care. If it made him happy, if it helped him to get those things off his chest, I could still be happy.
Talking about Vanessa was hard for me - I felt as if I'd been hit in the chest when he brought her up - but I could be there for him. That's something I was good at - listening. And I had a feeling this was just the tip of the iceberg.
♠ ♠ ♠
I really don't like this chapter. I wrote it after reading a short story by Stephenie Meyer... that should speak for itself. A bit of melodramatic fluff, to be honest. But it had to be done. *sigh* Anyway. I hope you enjoyed it at least =).