Retarded In Love

I took my bags off the bed and set them by the closet, then made my way to the big glass doors, sliding one open, and stepping outside. It was warm, a beautiful day. The deck was a dark wood, and the view was pretty. It was a long way down, and I looked at the trees and flowers in the back yard. It was beautiful. So different from the stuffy apartments and clubs I was used to. I took a deep breath and stepped back inside. I looked at the clock sitting on the small bedside table. Nine twenty-five. I laid down on the bed, and before I knew it, I was asleep.

"What do you mean you're leaving?" His eyebrows furrowed over light brown eyes.

"What else can it mean, Steve? I'm leaving." I was fighting tears.

"What? Why?" He walked toward me and took my bag from my hand.

I was shaking. I was scared. I'd spent a long time with this man, relying only on him. It was easy for him to take my bag and pull me into a tight embrace. He lifted his head to kiss me, but when he parted my lips I pulled away. He looked slightly hurt, but he never let go of me, only loosened his grip so he could look into my eyes. I could tell he wanted answers.

"I can't do this anymore..." I said softly.

"Do what?" He whispered, caressing my back lightly.

"This. I need a life, I need something more than sleeping all day and getting trashed every night. It was fun for a while, but we need to grow up..."

He quickly pulled away. "This is how I live my life. This is my life, and I am living how I want. Life isn't butterflies and rainbows, Elanore. Why don't you grow up? If you want out so fucking bad, then get out!" His voice grew with every sentence until he was yelling. I just stared at him, still shaking, now more scared than ever. Apology quickly filled his eyes and he lunged at me, holding me tight as I burst out into tears. "Shhh... I'm sorry... My God, I'm so sorry Ellie... I never meant to hurt you..." he whispered into my hair, kissing my head between each sentence. I just stood there in his arms, crying into his chest.

Soon, his shirt was soaked and I was so tired my legs were shaking more than before. Steve-O was stroking my hair lightly with one hand, still holding me tight with the other, and kissing my head every now and again. Slowly, I pulled away. I noticed he had tears in his eyes, and he brushed them away quickly before reaching down and holding my face firmly in his hands, and brushing a tear away with the thumb of his right hand, and frowned.

Then he let go and without saying a word, he walked toward the bedroom. I stood and fought tears for a few minutes and tried to build up the courage to walk out of the door, and failed. I slowly walked to the bedroom and hesitated in the doorway. Steve-O was sitting at the foot of the bed, staring at the floor. He looked up, and I realized he was crying. He stood up and wiped his eyes quickly. His eyes never left mine as I walked toward him, until we were really close. His eyes bore holes in mine as he stared down at me longingly.
"I don't want you to go." He said, stare solid.

Hesitantly, I slid my shaky hands under his wet shirt and lifted it, and with his help it was over his head quickly. Yet, he still just stood there, staring at me. I leaned in and kissed his neck softly before he rested his hands on the small of my back, moved his lips to mine and gently slid his hands under my shirt, lifting it from my body.