I Hope You Like the Stars I Stole for You

Pruitt’s POV

“I missed you more.” I told Vic, and I knew that it was true. After all, he was the one who had left me. “Don’t ever do that to me again, alright ?” I slapped the back of his head lightly. “I promise,” he said, his voice sincere. “Well, it’s noon on a Saturday, what do you wanna do ?” I asked him, having no clue myself. He turned to me “As long as I’m with you, I don’t care.” He got a weird look in his eyes, and he was just staring. I felt my face get hot “What ?” No reply, still that same stare. “Why are you looking at me ? Is there something on my-” I was silenced unexpectedly by his lips on mine. I let my lips trace around his as his hands buried themselves in my hair. I smiled in the middle of the kiss, and Vic kept it going. He scooted back so he was on the bed more and we weren’t in such an awkward position. I followed him without breaking contact, and soon he had his back against the pillows and I was straddling him. He wrapped his arms around me, and my hands found themselves on his shoulders. I pulled away unwillingly so I could get a breath in, and Vic stared up at me. “Pruitt.” The way he said my name drove me crazy. “What ?” I asked him with a stupid grin on my face. He shook his head, his hands trailing on my waist. I giggled, and he started to pretend fight me. He pinned me down quickly, and I was laughing hysterically. Vic wrapped his arms around my body, and I felt his breath at my ear “Maybe I should go away more often.”

I blushed as I shivered from his warm breath, “Vic.” My voice was almost a moan now as he kissed my neck. We spent the rest of the day up in my room, just cuddling and talking. I felt so safe in his arms, and when I was with him, nothing else mattered.

School didn’t get much better, but Vic made it bearable. We got our own table together at lunch, along with a few other people who would actually come near me. I was safe in classes with Vic, because of his brother being Mike, and Mike being popular. However, in classes without him, the teasing and taunting remained the same. As long as Vic was back though, it didn’t really matter. No one could beat me up after school, because he was right there with me. He was my guardian angel, my savior.

He officially asked me out two weeks after we met. We already acted like a couple anyway, so there wasn’t much change. I still hadn’t told him about my cutting, and we had been dating for a month. I still cut sometimes, when things got really bad at home, or when something someone had said at school stuck in my mind; sometimes both. It became easier to hide as the weather grew colder, and I was grateful that it was early October.

Vic and I hung out whenever we could, so basically every day after school and all day on weekends. Both our families actually got together sometimes too, and they were fine with our relationship because we both didn’t really have many friends. I guess we were kind of a relief to one another’s parents. We had a schedule- on nice days, go to the park or walk around, on rainy days and such, cuddle upstairs in my room, and any other left over days, go to Vic’s for dinner. Sometimes we’d go to the park and share a cigarette, talk about things if our day had been hard. Those were perfect moments, when we could just be real with one another and puff away our worries. A cigarette for a thousand problems.

I still hadn’t told Vic about the big issues in my life- my self-harm and my abusive dad. I was so scared to tell him, I just knew he was going to think I was a freak. He knew about my depression though, and he knew sometimes I struggled with ‘dark thoughts.’ He told me a little about the bullying that had happened to him and about his depression as well, but he never really got too deep into it. I often wondered if he was afraid, or embarrassed, or maybe ashamed. I didn’t want to ask him about it, because it was such a personal subject, and I wasn’t really one to pry. Vic sometimes asked me how I was doing, in a serious tone that told me what he really meant. Those were the times that he didn’t want some bullshit “I’m fine” answer, where he wanted a real, honest reply on how I was feeling. Those usually happened during our smoke sessions, and I would look at him, blow a smoke ring, and say “I’m doing pretty shitty.”

One night in the middle of October, when Vic was sneaking into my room at night as he so often did, he turned to me as he shut the window. He pulled me to the bed, and snuggled with me deep under the covers. His hand stroked my hair, and he said really softly and quietly “I love you.”

That was the first time he had ever said that to me.