What Makes It Wrong for Us to Fall in Love?

"Late night omelet?" Kennedy offered as he walked into his living room.

"How late is it?" I asked tiredly.

"It's three in the morning, we got carried away in the park."

We hung out all night at the park? "Oh."

"So how's about a late night omelet?"

"Sure, whatever."

"Babe, cheer up--"

"You can't tell me to cheer up,"

"I can try." He sighed. Then he went into his kitchen and had me follow him.

He spent the next fifteen minutes fixing me an omelet while I spent my fifteen minutes just sobbing on the kitchen table.

It was pathetic.

I was pathetic.

"Here you go," Kennedy slid the plate to me. "Just the way you used to like them."

I found myself staring at the plate. And I smiled goofily.

He beamed at me. "A smile, finally." He took his own omelet, which was less presentable than mine was, and sat next to me after he got us forks.

I started playing with my omelet.

For once, I didn't think about the pain.

I amused myself with the things I thought out loud. "Kennedy, remember when you promised me that if we ever got married, you'd never not make me this when I woke up,"

"I remember," Kennedy laughed. Amused as well, he was.

"I almost forgot we planned on getting married."

"Me too," He started eating his omelet and I did too.

Then we just started talking about old times, me and him.

Stupid moments, stupid fights, stupid promises.

What the hell were we thinking?

Either way, it was nice to have him to talk to after everything fell apart. He helped me not think about the pain.

But food can only last for so long.

I got up and took his plate from him, volunteering to take them to the sink.

I started washing them when I spotted the ring Stephen put on me.

And it took just that to bring every ounce of pain back into my system.

I tried not to cry. Believe me. I fucking tried. And it was a stupid thing to do, considering that the pain clearly wasn't going away.

So I sobbed while I fixed the plates, contemplating self-inflicted death all over again.

The knife was right there.

I finished the dishes and put them on the drying rack and took hold of a knife.

Closer examination showed that it was the exact same knife Kennedy used to cut me the year before.

"Nice," I muttered, not being able to help making noise. Of course I didn't want to make any noise. I didn't wanna catch Kennedy's attention. I was gonna kill myself, I didn't want him to watch.

"Babe, what are you doing?" Kennedy mindlessly asked.

Well, I mindlessly answered. "Killing myself."

"Really?" He asked casually.

"Oh," I, also casually, replied. "Yeah," I tilted my head as I put the blade on my wrist.

I added a little pressure.

Nothing.

A little more.

Nothing.

Some more.

There we go. I cheered in my head when I felt the knife cut through just my skin. It wasn't getting anywhere yet.

And I was stopped with two arms firmly wrapping around my waist.

"Don't do it," He whispered softly.

It was the exact same predicament earlier that night; Except that time, we both remained calm and collected.

"Please don't do it. I love you too much to let you do this to yourself. Please don't do it." Then he gently pried the knife out of my hand and put it down on the sink. He turned the faucet on and washed my wound, out of which such little blood was making its way. "Please," And then he kissed my neck. "Jess," He mumbled. "I love you. I know, I'm not enough to live for. But please try. I'm so sorry you're in this mess. Being in this much pain.. For you.. It's not right. You don't deserve it. I'm sorry the world's so unfair to you. But.. You'll get through this. I won't let you face this alone. I swear. You'll get through this. I promise."

"You can't promise shit like that." I turned around.

"I know you're hurting. I know. But you wanna know what else I know? I know you're gonna get through this."

"How do you manage to be so positive about this shit,"

"Because," He made his voice more comforting. "You've been through so much more than this. You're stronger than this. I just know you're gonna get through this. Words of reassurance. That's what you need. I'll be here for you. All the way till you get back on your feet. Take as long as you want. Take as long as you need. I won't ever leave you. I'll be there for you every step you take, and I'll guide you through every move you make. I know it sounds cheesy because it rhymes, but I swear, I promise, I won't leave you. I won't let you face this alone."

"I love you so much." I whined.

"Take all the time you need. I swear, I won't let you face this alone." He repeated.

--

So the morning after, I woke up the same way I fell asleep that night: One of my arms around Kennedy's waist, my head on his chest, using one of his arms as support for my head, and my breathing never thinned out.

Neither did his.

I fell asleep crying on his chest, my eyes were still puffy because of it. And he just held me through the night till I fell asleep.

So he was lovingly stroking my hair, which got my senses a little bit more awake than they already were.

My eyes were still closed when I took my arm off his waist and took the hand he was touching my hair with. "Are you awake?"

"Secret." He joked.

"Aw," I muttered, too lazy to laugh.

"Aw," He mimicked. He pulled my hand to his and kissed it lightly. "Good morning though. Did you sleep well last night?"

"Yeah," I groaned. "Did you?"

"I couldn't sleep,"

I stirred around a little and looked up from his chest to his face. "You're okay though, right?"

"Of course." He assured me. "How about you? You're okay though, right?"

"For now." I mumbled and rested my head on his chest again. "I'm okay for now."

"That's good enough." He said. "What do you wanna do today?"

"Lay in bed all day with you." I groaned.

"Great idea, but we've both gotta get some fresh air,"

"What time is it?"

"Uhm," Kennedy gently moved, careful that he wasn't making me any uncomfortable as he looked at the alarm clock on his bedside table. "Eleven twenty-three,"

"It's that late?"

"It's that early. We slept at five."

"Six hours of sleep isn't all that bad."

"I know, right?" Kennedy returned to his earlier position.

"Kennedy," I looked at him again. "I love you."

He didn't say it back, he just weakly smiled at me.

Which got me weakly smiling back.

I crawled up to him and pecked at his lips. "I'm so sorry I kept crying last night,"

"Why? Why're you sorry?"

"I don't know. I think it just sucks for you to have me crying after we have sex."

"Oh that.. Haha. Don't be sorry for anything," He made me look him in the eye. "You've got nothing to be sorry about,"

"I'm sorry for cutting you last night--"

"You don't have to be sorry." He insisted.

"And how I almost killed myself--"

"Seriously," Kennedy put his fingers to my lips and shushed me. "It's okay. You don't have to be sorry, you've got nothing to be sorry about."

I rested my head on his chest again.

"You aren't doing anything wrong, and you haven't done anything wrong," He reassured me. "You're not supposed to be sorry for anything."

"You're lying," I started to sob, I started to cry. "You're lying, Kennedy. I hurt you, I hurt Jawn, I hurt Stephen, I hurt Pat, I hurt Garrett, I hurt Jared, I hurt Brian, I hurt John, I hurt Josh--"

"Cross me off that fucking list, Jess, you have no reason to apologize to me."

"That leaves me sorry for hurting.." I counted them all in my head. "Eight? Eight other--"

"You over think." He cut me off. "What will it take for you not to think about that right now? I'd do anything."

"I don't know, I just wanna fucking forget, but I can't. My life is so fucked up. Stephen just threw me out of his life, Jawn just started calling me a bitch.. I just slept with you.. Kennedy, I don't know what I'm doing anymore. And to think I almost killed myself,"

"You'll be okay." He stirred and kissed my forehead. "Like I promised you, I am not going anywhere. I really do believe that I'm not enough to live for; that I'm not enough motivation for you to keep going, but I really hope you try."

"Seeing how you're the only thing I've got right now's weird. I think it's unfair for you."

"Everything's unfair to me. My friends, my family.. My life. Everything's unfair to me. But that's okay, I know how to cope. And when it comes to you, I really don't care what's fair to me. What matters is that everything's got to be fair for you."

"You make it sound like I'm that bad,"

"But I don't mean it that way," He defended. "I mean.. Just.."

"I like how you're being so honest right now." I sighed. "You are being honest, right?"

"Babe, what kind of a question is that even?" He laughed. "Stop crying." He used the blanket to wipe my tears off my face, then off his chest.

"Kennedy,"

"You can go back to sleep now." He muttered. "But put some clothes on first." He got up, quickly got dressed in anything he found on his drawer and threw me a pair of pajamas with a The Maine shirt.

So I put that on.

"Go back to sleep, okay? I'll wake you up when it's time for lunch,"

"You don't even know how to cook,"

"Well thank you for telling me that when I made you the perfect omelet last night."

"Seriously, you don't know how to cook."

"I'll figure something out. Go back to sleep." He leaned down and gave me a kiss then went off.