Status: On hiatus until further notice
Run Away With Me
Chapter 7
Kellin’s POV
The steps we take in sync back to our room are made in silence. I can’t think of a single thing to say as an explanation for my bizarre actions. My mind is clouded and I can feel a home for a bacteria culture begin to develop between my clasped palms. The beating of my heart could easily be mistaken as deafening blows to a front door if one did not have knowledge of the reasons behind it. But I do and that knowledge is what makes the journey back to the room so excruciatingly nervewracking.
Finally, the door appears in my sight. Victor walks into the room first, me following meekly behind him. He takes a seat on his bed, crisscrossed, then pats the space in front of him. I stumble over to the bed and shakingly sit in my designated seat, copying his seating style. He holds a finger before twisting towards the bedside table to retrieve a small notepad and pen, turning the pad to a new sheet but not writing anything. The boy turns his body back to me, placing the objects in his lap. Looking to me, I take this as a sign that I should start. I open my mouth to speak, but fail to have any words pass my lips, so I close it momentarily.
I know why I can’t say anything. I’m scared, pure and simple. I comprehend that my actions were asinine and without any honourable reason, only that I was scared and acted out of it. A few seconds of explaining this to myself, I realize that it’s those words I should be saying to this boy who overqualifies for an explanation. I try my voice again.
“I-I,” I huff in frustration over my sudden inability to talk, forcing the words from my throat. “I’m sorry, Victor. Truly and utterly sorry.” He nods but doesn’t pick up his pen, allowing me to continue.
“I left the room suddenly because I freaked out. I thought that after you asked me if I meant to kiss you that I had royally fucked up. So I ran away, which is something that I shouldn’t have done. Then, not only did I leave you in that moment with no answers, but I left you an entire week with nothing to go by. I should have come back after I freaked and I should have talked to you immediately.
“As for why I freaked out, back when I was growing up, every guy my mother was ever with would leave when she started developing feelings for them. My mom worked as a, uh, prostitute, so different men were always coming and going in my life. A single guy would lay up in our house every night for at least a month or so, and my mom, being the romantic she was, would always slowly begin to develop feelings for them, especially if they were, like, all fatherly with me.”
As a small moment of silence settles in, reruns of my childhood begin to take place in my mind’s eye and I feel tears drifting about nearby, but I force myself to take a deep breath and continue talking.
“There were a few times when she would kiss a client outside of the bedroom, but she would always be pushed away. The rejection were hard on her and sometimes she wouldbhave to take a few weeks off of work to get her emotions in order. Whenever she took off, I had to fix her broken heart,” I trail off, avoiding eye contact with Victor.
It is becoming quite an effort to keep talking, so I don’t make any more efforts. Instead, I allow myself to close up, which lasts for a while until I feel something tapping my calf. I look at Victor, who is holding the notepad up for me to read.
You don’t have to keep going. I understand.
“Thank you,” I whisper to him, a tiny smile temporarily making home on my face before being shoved off by a blank slate. Victor flips the page over and starts scribbling something else.
From what I’ve gathered from your explanation, can I safely concludevthat you did, in fact, mean to kiss me?
I smile more permanently, a couple puffs of air leaving my lungs hastily as I silently laugh, and nod my head. “Yes, Victor, yes you can.”
An angelic smile greets his lips, completely replacing the hurt that previously graced his beautiful face ever since I had fucked up. As I look at him now and take in the expression on his face, I mentally chastise myself for even damaging him in the first place. He doesn’t deserve it. Not then, not now, not ever.
The steps we take in sync back to our room are made in silence. I can’t think of a single thing to say as an explanation for my bizarre actions. My mind is clouded and I can feel a home for a bacteria culture begin to develop between my clasped palms. The beating of my heart could easily be mistaken as deafening blows to a front door if one did not have knowledge of the reasons behind it. But I do and that knowledge is what makes the journey back to the room so excruciatingly nervewracking.
Finally, the door appears in my sight. Victor walks into the room first, me following meekly behind him. He takes a seat on his bed, crisscrossed, then pats the space in front of him. I stumble over to the bed and shakingly sit in my designated seat, copying his seating style. He holds a finger before twisting towards the bedside table to retrieve a small notepad and pen, turning the pad to a new sheet but not writing anything. The boy turns his body back to me, placing the objects in his lap. Looking to me, I take this as a sign that I should start. I open my mouth to speak, but fail to have any words pass my lips, so I close it momentarily.
I know why I can’t say anything. I’m scared, pure and simple. I comprehend that my actions were asinine and without any honourable reason, only that I was scared and acted out of it. A few seconds of explaining this to myself, I realize that it’s those words I should be saying to this boy who overqualifies for an explanation. I try my voice again.
“I-I,” I huff in frustration over my sudden inability to talk, forcing the words from my throat. “I’m sorry, Victor. Truly and utterly sorry.” He nods but doesn’t pick up his pen, allowing me to continue.
“I left the room suddenly because I freaked out. I thought that after you asked me if I meant to kiss you that I had royally fucked up. So I ran away, which is something that I shouldn’t have done. Then, not only did I leave you in that moment with no answers, but I left you an entire week with nothing to go by. I should have come back after I freaked and I should have talked to you immediately.
“As for why I freaked out, back when I was growing up, every guy my mother was ever with would leave when she started developing feelings for them. My mom worked as a, uh, prostitute, so different men were always coming and going in my life. A single guy would lay up in our house every night for at least a month or so, and my mom, being the romantic she was, would always slowly begin to develop feelings for them, especially if they were, like, all fatherly with me.”
As a small moment of silence settles in, reruns of my childhood begin to take place in my mind’s eye and I feel tears drifting about nearby, but I force myself to take a deep breath and continue talking.
“There were a few times when she would kiss a client outside of the bedroom, but she would always be pushed away. The rejection were hard on her and sometimes she wouldbhave to take a few weeks off of work to get her emotions in order. Whenever she took off, I had to fix her broken heart,” I trail off, avoiding eye contact with Victor.
It is becoming quite an effort to keep talking, so I don’t make any more efforts. Instead, I allow myself to close up, which lasts for a while until I feel something tapping my calf. I look at Victor, who is holding the notepad up for me to read.
You don’t have to keep going. I understand.
“Thank you,” I whisper to him, a tiny smile temporarily making home on my face before being shoved off by a blank slate. Victor flips the page over and starts scribbling something else.
From what I’ve gathered from your explanation, can I safely concludevthat you did, in fact, mean to kiss me?
I smile more permanently, a couple puffs of air leaving my lungs hastily as I silently laugh, and nod my head. “Yes, Victor, yes you can.”
An angelic smile greets his lips, completely replacing the hurt that previously graced his beautiful face ever since I had fucked up. As I look at him now and take in the expression on his face, I mentally chastise myself for even damaging him in the first place. He doesn’t deserve it. Not then, not now, not ever.
♠ ♠ ♠
Wah-BAM!!!! 2 UPDATES! WHAT!!!you know you love it.... ;)
EDIT:
This story will be on hiatus until further notice. I am an upcoming senior with applications and scholarships to deal with and I've been so flustered for a while now. I appreciate all of you who are still subscribed to this story, as it is my baby and the first one I've written by myself entirely. Please stay with me and I will reward you all graciously when I am able to sit down and focus on Run Away With Me. I want to make this story as heartfelt as possible, which can only happen if I'm not cluttered with school stuff. Love you lots, lovelies!
Love, Raechel