Room With No Windows

The first few days of sharing my bed were awkward. Mainly, it was me that was awkward, never knowing where to put my hands and if I should face toward or away with my back to her. I was constantly second guessing everything I did.
Elsa assured me that it didn't make her uncomfortable, which was funny because she sure made me nervous.
We eventually came to a silent consensus, or rather it just always happened. She liked to nestle her head in my chest. Every morning I would find her like that, and I got used to it.
I find her the same way now and sigh, running my thumb along her arm. She wore such a serene look when she slept.
Her face presses into my shoulder when I shake her gently. She groans and I chuckle. Well, it was a Saturday. No harm in letting her sleep in.
I slowly slip out from beside her, careful not to shift the bed, and grab my notebook before making my way over to the coffee table. It felt cliché to want to watch her sleep and write. It felt wrong.
But the end of my pen thought different.
My thoughts flow easily as I jot them down, the soft light from outside seeming to match my mood. Once I got started, the words seemed to write themselves.
Something about this felt oddly familiar. I've done this before, except the girl that used to sleep on the right side of my bed back then used to actually be mine. Even though I had no right to call her mine.
Elsa suddenly rolls off the bed, hitting the floor with a thump. It was enough to snap me out of my daze.
"Ellie! Are you okay?"
She groans, untangling herself from the sheets in frustration. "Perfect."
I put my notebook down and walk over to help her up. I bite back a smile, amused. "Sorry."
Narrowing her eyes, she sticks her tongue out at me. I chuckle, picking up a pillow she dropped. "Did you at least sleep well?"
"No," she mumbles, frowning slightly. "Why did you leave?"
Her question catches me off guard. I blink. "I-I...I felt like writing, I guess." I scratch the back of my neck. "I was awake already and didn't want wake you."
She bites her lip. "Oh."
We stand there in silence for a moment, and I clear my throat. "You hungry?"
Elsa shakes her head. I raise an eyebrow, confused. She never said no to food...
"Is everything okay?" I ask.
"Y-yeah," she replies a little too quickly, stumbling on her words. "I'm fine. My head hurts from the fall, that's it."
I grab a hold of her from the crook in her arm. "I'll get you some ice."
"It's not that bad, John, really-"
"Hush," I say firmly. "Come on."
She sighs, letting me pull her into the kitchen and sit her on a stool. Her behavior was a bit alarming. Why was she so quiet?
I pour some ice into a small sandwich bag and zip it up, standing in front of her to hold it to her head. She looks up to meet my eyes, moving my hand to where there was a small bump. "Thanks. Did I interrupt your writing?"
"What's wrong?" I mutter, ignoring her question.
Her eyes glisten and I feel my stomach sink. Fuck.
"I had a nightmare," she admits.
"About what?"
She averts her gaze, letting out a shaky breath. "It kept happening. He kept telling me what he did."
I clench the bag of ice in my hand. "Elsa-"
"And he kept blaming me for it," she continued. "He took it out on me." I notice her wince.
My shoulders tense. "What do you mean he took it out on you?"
Elsa stares at me unwaveringly before removing my hand from her head to stand up. My eyes widen when she starts to lift her shirt, turning around to expose her back.
I take in the scar that travelled from the middle of her back to her side, thin and healed. It was old, but you could still see a few of the stitches marked onto her smooth skin.
"It was an accident," she assures me. "Before he moved to California, we got into this huge argument about how he was leaving, not caring how I felt. He got mad and started to walk away, but I tried stopping him. I grabbed his arm, but he just snatched it back and pushed me. I slipped when I fell, and my back scraped against the corner of the table." She pauses, her tears cascading down her cheeks. "He rushed me to the hospital, telling me how sorry he was. A few days after I got stitched up, he set up this whole romantic dinner...that was when he proposed to me."
When she finished telling me, I was at a loss for words, and that didn't happen often. A few came to mind to describe her fiancee, though.
"That was the only time anything like that happened," she whispers, but I got the feeling that that wasn't true. She winces, staring down at her wrists. "In the dream, he just kept shoving me against the wall. He wouldn't let go."
I bite my lip, absentmindedly brushing my fingers against the scar on her side, not thinking to ask if it still hurt. I place the bag of ice on the table to hold onto her waist as I pull her into my chest. She doesn't even flinch from my cold fingers.
My thumb runs along her scar, feeling how ragged it felt compared to her soft back. It felt so out of place on her body; it didn't belong there.
"Why did you say you'd marry him?" I murmur into her hair, baffled as to why she would still agree to it after everything he did.
"I don't know," she sniffs. "I honestly don't know."
I pull away to look down at her. I hated seeing her like this. She deserved more than that hot-headed, worthless piece of shit.
Elsa slips her arms around my neck, pulling me closer. I could feel her breath tickling my neck and shiver.
"You help keep the nightmares away," she mutters. "And even though I never should have said yes to him, I'm glad I did or I might have never met you."
My stomach flutters.
Before my conscience could change my mind, I press my lips to hers, and she gasps softly before returning the kiss. From the moment our lips connected, I knew I'd get addicted. She tasted like heaven.
This is wrong, the voice in my head yells. This is wrong. STOP.
I break away from the kiss, but I couldn't tear myself away from her. I just couldn't.
"Why did you stop?" she breathes.
I bite my lip. "I don't know."
Elsa sighs. "I don't understand you sometimes."
A forced chuckle comes out and I remove my hands from her waist. "I don't understand me, either," I tell her self-depracatingly.
She rises on her tippy toes and presses her mouth to mine. I wanted her to keep kissing me so I wouldn't have to and then have to stop. I wanted to take her face in my hands and kiss until we couldn't breathe, and even then I wouldn't stop. I wanted to lose myself in her and give her everything I could possibly give.
But she pulls away, gazing up at me through her lashes. "You have my permission to do that whenever you want."
I groan. "Don't give me permission."
She raises an eyebrow. "Why not?"
"You'll never get anything done," I laugh, and she blushes. I sigh. "Jesus Christ, Ellie. It's already bad enough I have you living with me. Controlling myself just got a lot harder."
Literally.