Status: Finished. :)
Red Flag.
That's it.
"Matthew,' I yelped at the tall, frail man who stood before me, "please, let go of my arm. You're bruising it, I know you are." I whispered, daringly looking up to meet his eyes.
Matthew was usually a very serene, humorous type of guy. He was quiet and amazingly sweet, but what people didn't see is what I got to see on multiple occasions. Tonight was one of these occurences.
"Say you're sorry." He glared back at me and I blinked hard. I bit the inside of my lip before returning his gaze and with the most sympathetic expression I could acquire, I apologised.
"Not good enough." He seethed back and squeezed my arm tighter. The circulation was starting to be cut off and I could feel my hand and arm tingle in pain from his grip.
"I'm sorry, Matthew, you know I am. I didn't mean to hurt and embarrass you like that, and I'll be sure to keep my emotions under control next time." I slowly got quieter and he eventually let go, only after muttering fucking bitch under his breath.
What did I have to apologise for this time, you ask? I'd hugged him after hearing one of their new songs at the band's practice studio. He hadn't been expecting the embrace and patted me awkwardly on the back, an immediate sign for me to let go. I know I said Matthew could be extremely sweet before, and a sensitive type of guy, but only ever in private. He considered any sign of intimacy outside of our house to be far too much, as well as awkward for others, therefore he looked down upon it with disgust. I, however, did not feel disgust towards a proud hug which made me suffer in the end. I could understand where he was coming from to a small degree, though. I'd broken the rules, I'd need discipline to remember them.
I sighed and returned to the lounge room, where I was originally seated before Matthew dragged me into the kitchen in his rage. I turned on the television and watched a movie, checking the time every five minutes. Matthew usually calmed down enough an hour or two later to be able to sit down and have a conversation with me, without it ending up in pain.
I drifted to sleep briefly before a smooth object ran across my face slowly. I smiled and opened my eyes, turning my head to see Matthew's face looking to mine as he sat in a crouching position in front of me.
"I'm sorry," he breathed out and I shook my head, "no, I really am sorry. I should have had more control, not you." I, again, shook my head and patted the lounge, making enough room for him to lie down next to me.
He lay sideways beside me and we stared each other down gently, before he began to play with my hair , letting his bony but calloused fingers graze my neck and ears every so often. I smiled and he leant forward, planting a small, soft kiss on my lips. I stayed where I was, not scared but knowing not to push the limits unless he wanted me to do so. I knew if I pressed back, he might get mad again. It was very, very simple for him to change from the Matthew I adored to the Matthew I feared with every ounce of my being.
He moved forward again, being sure to close the gap between us while draping an arm across my waist and drawing patterns on my back, slowly running his fingers up my spine. I felt goosebumps immediately and, hesitantly, leant my forehead against his. He closed his eyes and kissed me again, deeper and with more feeling this time round. I knew it was okay, now, and kissed him back. His rigt hand, previously in my hair, now cupped the side of my face and I felt beyond content. The fingers running up my spine now massaged my neck and I leant in closer still, urgent and desperate. These were the times I knew that Matthew loved me, because though he may scare me, he was still with me and his actions showed that he needed me, too.
Then, as soon as it begun, it ended. Matthew's hands returned to their previous owner and he pushed himself off of the lounge, slumping onto the floor and pulling his knees up to his chest, before he stood up and retreated to the bedroom, where I shortly heard him playing one of the band's songs, Red Flag. I held in a sigh and rolled over, looking up to the ceiling for answers. The only answers it gave was the tune of the song coming from the piano and Matthew's soft, crooning voice. This was the man I married, and as much as I loved him with every ounce of my being, there were times I truly hated how introvert he could be. I loved the music he played, but when he chose it over me, I forgot the reasons for our love in the first place. It was wrong of me, and I knew music would always come first, but I'd always hoped to be his first thought of seeking comfort and peace. For now, I'll live with being stuck in a delicate marriage to a wonderfully dangerous man.
Matthew was usually a very serene, humorous type of guy. He was quiet and amazingly sweet, but what people didn't see is what I got to see on multiple occasions. Tonight was one of these occurences.
"Say you're sorry." He glared back at me and I blinked hard. I bit the inside of my lip before returning his gaze and with the most sympathetic expression I could acquire, I apologised.
"Not good enough." He seethed back and squeezed my arm tighter. The circulation was starting to be cut off and I could feel my hand and arm tingle in pain from his grip.
"I'm sorry, Matthew, you know I am. I didn't mean to hurt and embarrass you like that, and I'll be sure to keep my emotions under control next time." I slowly got quieter and he eventually let go, only after muttering fucking bitch under his breath.
What did I have to apologise for this time, you ask? I'd hugged him after hearing one of their new songs at the band's practice studio. He hadn't been expecting the embrace and patted me awkwardly on the back, an immediate sign for me to let go. I know I said Matthew could be extremely sweet before, and a sensitive type of guy, but only ever in private. He considered any sign of intimacy outside of our house to be far too much, as well as awkward for others, therefore he looked down upon it with disgust. I, however, did not feel disgust towards a proud hug which made me suffer in the end. I could understand where he was coming from to a small degree, though. I'd broken the rules, I'd need discipline to remember them.
I sighed and returned to the lounge room, where I was originally seated before Matthew dragged me into the kitchen in his rage. I turned on the television and watched a movie, checking the time every five minutes. Matthew usually calmed down enough an hour or two later to be able to sit down and have a conversation with me, without it ending up in pain.
I drifted to sleep briefly before a smooth object ran across my face slowly. I smiled and opened my eyes, turning my head to see Matthew's face looking to mine as he sat in a crouching position in front of me.
"I'm sorry," he breathed out and I shook my head, "no, I really am sorry. I should have had more control, not you." I, again, shook my head and patted the lounge, making enough room for him to lie down next to me.
He lay sideways beside me and we stared each other down gently, before he began to play with my hair , letting his bony but calloused fingers graze my neck and ears every so often. I smiled and he leant forward, planting a small, soft kiss on my lips. I stayed where I was, not scared but knowing not to push the limits unless he wanted me to do so. I knew if I pressed back, he might get mad again. It was very, very simple for him to change from the Matthew I adored to the Matthew I feared with every ounce of my being.
He moved forward again, being sure to close the gap between us while draping an arm across my waist and drawing patterns on my back, slowly running his fingers up my spine. I felt goosebumps immediately and, hesitantly, leant my forehead against his. He closed his eyes and kissed me again, deeper and with more feeling this time round. I knew it was okay, now, and kissed him back. His rigt hand, previously in my hair, now cupped the side of my face and I felt beyond content. The fingers running up my spine now massaged my neck and I leant in closer still, urgent and desperate. These were the times I knew that Matthew loved me, because though he may scare me, he was still with me and his actions showed that he needed me, too.
Then, as soon as it begun, it ended. Matthew's hands returned to their previous owner and he pushed himself off of the lounge, slumping onto the floor and pulling his knees up to his chest, before he stood up and retreated to the bedroom, where I shortly heard him playing one of the band's songs, Red Flag. I held in a sigh and rolled over, looking up to the ceiling for answers. The only answers it gave was the tune of the song coming from the piano and Matthew's soft, crooning voice. This was the man I married, and as much as I loved him with every ounce of my being, there were times I truly hated how introvert he could be. I loved the music he played, but when he chose it over me, I forgot the reasons for our love in the first place. It was wrong of me, and I knew music would always come first, but I'd always hoped to be his first thought of seeking comfort and peace. For now, I'll live with being stuck in a delicate marriage to a wonderfully dangerous man.
♠ ♠ ♠
I hope you liked it.