Anything

I thread my fingers through each other, purse my lips, and bounce my leg, but nothing helps my anxiety. His eyes are on me—I can feel them piercing through the thin material of the sweater I wear. The cerulean blue was probably glittering because he was furiously trying to figure out what I was thinking and then his pretty pink, pouty lips were more than likely puckered in further result of his concentration. But I’m ignoring it all. Louis may be perched on the edge of my sofa with his designer jumper cutting a fine sight that consisted of broad shoulders and bulging biceps and slightly tan skin, and I may or may not be aching to just bridge this gap of distance, but I won’t. Not this time.

An impatient sigh cuts through the silence and I hear as he shoves himself back roughly. I know he’s getting frustrated now. He wants me to break like I had all the times before—to give way and allow him to take what he wanted, but it wasn’t going to happen. This time would be different; I would remain strong and firm while he withered in impatience and sneers.

“Come on,” he groans out.

“No.”

“Oh, why not?”

I shift, biting down on my bottom lip while untangling my fingers so to push a piece of hair behind my hair. A steady breath is sucked in through my nose while my heart starts to hammer wildly underneath the freckled skin of my chest.

“Because I don’t want to hurt anymore, Lou,” I confess weakly.

He scoffs. “What in the bloody hell are you talking about?”

“It hurts now.”

“I’m always gentle with you, Bryn,” he says, tone lower and gentler. “Besides, I’ve told you to tell me if I’m too rough.”

It’s my turn to sigh impatiently now. He’s not understanding; the pain I’m talking about isn’t so much physical as it is mental. Thrumming my fingertips on the tops of my thighs, I chew down on the skin of my lower lip while trying desperately to think of some way to make him understand.

“You don’t physically hurt me, Lou. It’s just…”

“It’s just what?”

“When you leave after, I cry.”

Maybe I should’ve just made love with him when he’d wanted and forgotten about all my emotions and the dumb resolve I’d made to end my torture, but it’s too late now. My confession’s out.

I’m far too frightened to look over to Louis because I have no idea what his reaction will be, so I sit there like before. I huddle closer into myself because I can feel pieces shaking loose and try to steady my breathing as my breaths are too quick and tears have started pushing at the back of my eyes. I don’t want to cry, not now. It would only break Louis possibly even more than my statement had and I just couldn’t do that.

For what feels like minutes I sit there on that couch by myself while he sits quietly on the other side of the room. It’s only when I peak at his TOMS that I find he’s still there and hasn’t stolen out the fire escape or made a dash for the door. But then, suddenly, when I’m gazing at their black color, I notice that they’re coming towards me and my eyes widen.

They move in front of me and a hand with soft fingers forms itself on my cheek. My head is lifted up till I’m able to finally stare into his pretty face. Now I can’t breathe at all anymore because he’s just breathtaking. There’s stubble littering his jaw and his hair is disheveled, but it matches his tired eyes and perky lips perfectly. He’s a masterpiece of quirky smiles, messy hair, muscle, and azure eyes.

“If you wanted me to stay, Bryn,” he says while pulling me to my feet with his free hand. “, then all you had to do was say so.”

My face is cradled in his hands and his lips are caught up in mine before I realize it. But this kiss is different. It’s not hurried or sloppy like all the times before, but more passionate and caring. It feels like he’s really my boyfriend and not just some bloke who slid into my bed because he needed a shag.

I don’t know how long we’re kissing, but I don’t care either. I’ve lost all track of time and it feels glorious. Usually I’d been counting the minute’s seconds by seconds because I knew he was going to leave me, and now they’re blurring by while I tangle my fingers in his hair.

But we need oxygen soon and then we’re pulling apart a little, nuzzling our noses together while he presses his forehead to mine.

“I swear I’ll stay,” he gets out through his labored breaths, running his thumb along my cheekbone. “I’ll even spend the morning with you, Bryn.”

I smile. “You’d do that?”

“I’d do anything to make you happy, love.”

Then we’re kissing again, except it doesn’t hurt like all the times before. It’s exhilarating and I’m getting a rush just from feeling his skin moving against mine.