Can You Come Over?

“Can you come over?” His voice is soft but he can’t hide the desperation there, and the booze isn’t helping either. She wonders why she answered the phone. At this hour, there’s only one person it would - could - be. “Miss you. Please. Will you come over?” Oh, she thinks to herself as he purrs the last part into the phone. That’s why.

She groans his name, pressing the heel of one palm into her forehead as she tries to be strong. “You can’t - we can’t - you have to stop calling.” He is silent and she almost wonders if he hung up but - no, there’s the soft hitch in his breath that comes whenever he takes a too-big-slug of whiskey. She hates that she knows that. She whispers his name now.

“M’okay,” he mumbles into the phone. “M’fine.” She tells him she doesn’t believe him and she curses herself for staying on the phone. Her subconscious is screaming at her to hang up, turn her phone off, and take a sleeping pill before she can be tempted to turn it back on and check on him. She doesn’t hang up. She doesn’t turn her phone off. She doesn’t take the sleeping pill. She never does. “Baby, please come over.”

She inhales sharply. “Don’t call - you shouldn’t - you can’t call-“

“M’sorry,” he says, but she doesn’t believe him. “Really sorry. I’ll never do it again.” That silence and that hitch in his breath once more. “Please. Can’t - Can’t take - Can’t take a night in this bed without you here. Miss you. Your laugh. Your smile. Your touch. Your kisses. Your… ” He’s still going but she’s tuned him out desperately. Funny that he only feels that way after a full bottle of whiskey, she thinks to herself, trying to temper the lust pooling in her stomach. “Need my girl.” She freezes. She closes her eyes. She knows the pattern by now. She knows what’s coming next. She could time it. She does. He sighs her name once and then…silence. Ten…nine…eight - Hitch. Seven…six…five- She’s done for. He’s got her and he knows it. Four…three- She braces herself. Two…and one -“Need my Kitten.”

“Five minutes,” she tells him, hanging up without waiting for his response, loathing herself all the while.

-||-

He’s shirtless, leaning on his front porch railing, hands clasped around the near-empty bottle as he waits for her. His hair is a mess and he hasn’t shaved in easily three or four days. She takes all of this in as she pulls into his driveway, slamming the car into ‘park’ before throwing her door open. He’s stumbled down the porch steps, bottle abandoned, and she falls into his arms, flailing a leg behind her to kick her car door shut. His mouth is on hers as his hands clutch at her. She clings to his back, the smoky taste on his lips telling her he’s moved to the good liquor. She’s always loved the taste of good bourbon on his lips, she thinks to herself as he drags her inside and pushes her up against the now-closed front door. “Missed you so fuckin much,” He moans as he tugs at her shirt. She raises her arms and he pulls it off over her head, flinging it somewhere. He makes quick work of her bra now - “thas’nice,” he slurs as he drops the lacy piece she changed into before leaving the house. “Real pretty, Kitten. My pretty Kitten.” He’s kissing her neck now, his hands sliding lower to press her to him. “My pretty Kitten,” he repeats, suckling at the spot behind her ear and making her moan. “Does Kitten wanna gota bed?” The words hit her hard and she’s sent reeling; she fights to stay in the moment but she can’t fend off the memories.

“Does Kitten want to go to bed?” He’s smiling at her teasingly and she purrs playfully, batting at his shoulder. “Does Kitten like her nickname?” She nods and crawls up into his lap, kissing his neck. “Yeah?” It’s early in the relationship and things still feel new and exciting; this new nickname is particularly delightful to her though. She wants him to call her that while he fucks her, she thinks, blushing. “Prettiest girl, my Kitten,” He murmurs, brushing his thumb over her lips. “My pretty Kitten likes the nickname?”

“Yeah,” she mumbles, rocking in his lap a bit and sucking gently. “So fucking hot.” He grins and says he’s glad; he wasn’t sure if she’d like it or not. “Love it. Didn’t know how much I loved it 'til I heard it.”

“Mmmm,” he makes a soft sound of agreement, hands moving all over her back and hips, pulling her closer. “My girl is so fucking hot, so it’s a good name for her then.” She giggles and shrieks, clinging to his shoulders when he stands up; he locks his hands under her thighs so he can carry her into the bedroom. “Love my Kitten,” he murmurs in her ear as he places her on the bed and crawls up over her.

“Kitten loves you.” She preens under his attention but pouts after a moment. “You need a nickname, too!” She points at him accusingly. “You can’t call me Kitten if I don’t have something to call you.”

“What do you want to call me?” He grins and rolls off of her, arms behind his head as he stretches out in his bed. She curls towards him, running a hand over his stomach and teasingly brushing over his erection through his sweatpants. “Call me anything you like, Kitten.”

“Mmmmm,” she purrs, kissing his shoulder. “You gonna call me Kitten all the time or only when I’m being naughty for you?” He asks if it makes a difference and she laughs, nodding. “If it’s all the time, that’s one thing. If it’s only when I’m misbehaving, then I need something to call you that’s more…submissive,” she says with a giggle.

“I was going to call you that all the time, I suppose…” He murmurs. “I mean, I’ll call you other things too. But Kitten…that’s special.” He grins and she smiles up at him. “Call me anything you want, honey.”

“Well, now I don’t know!” She says, laughing.

“Call me Sir,” Brendon suggests with a broad smile. “What do you think of that, Kitten?”

“I think,” she whispers, kissing his neck, “that it’ll go straight to your head if I call you Sir.” They both laugh and her hand creeps lower to stroke him more firmly. “Or maybe straight to your dick…” she muses, grinning. “Which in that case…yes Sir.” They both groan when his cock throbs in her hand and he rolls over, kissing her hard.

“So sexy, Kitten.” Neither of them speaks for a while after that; his lips are moving down her neck and hers are tight around two of his fingers, sucking teasingly as he moves lower and lower to lap at one of her nipples longingly. When she cries out in pleasure, he nods approvingly and closes his mouth around the bud, rolling it with his tongue. She whimpers around his fingers in her mouth, letting her tongue rub over and in between them.

“Does Kitten wanna gota bed?” She nods, realizing he must have repeated himself, and back him up towards their - his, she corrects herself, his bedroom. He lets her push him down onto the mattress and watches her through heavy lids as she wiggles out of her jeans and underwear.

“Off,” she tells him, nodding at his own sweatpants. “Off.” He nods urgently and shoves them down his thighs; both of them audibly reacting to his erection, now unencumbered by fabric. He seems to be sighing in relief while she’s biting her lip and whimpering. “Don’t wanna waste time,” she whispers, kissing him hard again and hovering over him so she can guide his cock right where she needs him. “Oh fuck,” she gasps, clinging to his shoulders and squeezing her eyes shut.

“Lemme,” he mumbles, shifting so he’s over her now. “I’ll go slow: promise.” She whines and clings to him, both legs wrapped tightly around him so she can pull him close. They both cry out as he fills her and she closes her eyes, realizing with a sense of pride how long it must have been since she last caved and came over. “So fucking tight,” He groans in her ear. “My Kitten’s cunt is always so slick ‘n tight for me; she’s fuckin perfect,” and she moans, tightening her legs to keep him from pulling back to thrust.

“No,” she tells him, chest heaving. “Stay.” Their eyes lock and he doesn’t hesitate; his mouth is on hers and she’s pulling his hair and rocking back against him. His hands are everywhere, touching and squeezing and holding her close.

“I missed you s’much,” he whispers, nipping at her earlobe. “I miss you s’much.” She shushes him, not wanting to get into feelings right now - she’ll cry if he- “Kitten, my sweet girl,” he manages. “Angel,” and she swears under her breath because he’s pulling out all the stops with the pet names and it’s breaking her heart. “I’m so sor-“

“You broke up with me,” she finally says, cutting him off. He freezes, and she stares up at him, unsure of what comes next. They don’t talk during sex - not since - “You broke up with me and you keep calling me and I don’t know what to do about it. I-“

“Please, honey,” he begs, dropping his head to her shoulder. “We don’t have to talk about this now. We can-“ he’s fumbling for the right words, frantic eyes locked on hers. “We can just -“

“Get off,” she mutters, and his eyes get wider. She realizes how her interruption sounds like a continuation of his sentence and she groans. “Get off of me,” she clarifies, shoving at his chest. He obeys and falls onto his back beside her. Tentatively, he stretches out an arm to indicate she should come closer. When she does, he tightens his grip around her and she lets out a muffled sob, then curses again. She hates crying and she especially hates crying in front of him. “Stop looking at me,” she tells him in a dull voice.

“How am I supposetado that when you’re the mos’ beautiful woman I’ve ever seen?” He speaks softly, words still slurring faintly, fingers stroking her arm. She closes her eyes and tries to breathe deeply. Finally, when she’s composed, she tells him he can’t say things like that anymore. “Why?” He sounds genuinely confused. “That doesn’t have anythin to do with our relationship. It’s justa fact. You’re the mos’ beautiful woman I’ve ever seen and you’re here, in my bed, in my arms. How’m I supposedta stop lookin at you? Why should I?”

“Because,” she snaps, raising her eyes to his. She inhales sharply. That was a mistake, meeting his level gaze. He’s always been able to reduce her to a soft whimper with one look. She decides to try again. “Because I shouldn’t be here in your bed or in your arms. Because you ended it and it’s over and yet you’re still calling me and I’m still answering.” She looks down, the tears still rolling.

There’s a long silence before his voice breaks the stillness, sounding significantly soberer. “That doesn’t sound over to me. And…even if it is, you know it doesn’t have to be over.” She doesn’t respond- she can’t, so she rolls away from him and clutches at his pillow, trying to work up the strength to stand up, get dressed, and go home with what dignity remains. He must be able to tell because he reaches out for her. “Kitt- I’m sorry- please. Please don’t go. We can do whatever you want. I’ll shut up and do whatever you want. And if you want to go home and never see me again, I -“ his breath catches in his throat. “I understand. And I’ll stop- stop calling.”

There’s a sense of resignation and despondent finality to his words and she breaks, rolling back to him and grabbing at his face and hair as she brings her mouth to his. He immediately responds, both arms hauling her closer as their lips move together. Wordlessly, because he seems to sense that he should be silent now, she shifts so she’s under him again, legs spread. While he guides his slick length back against her, his hand cups her face, and his thumb moves in soft circles over her jawline. She presses her face into his touch and moans, low in the back of her throat, as he fills her.

The sex is rough and unrefined and they’re both moaning and grabbing and clutching and moving against each other, gasping into each other’s mouth and breathing hard. His hips are moving urgently, driving them both closer and closer to orgasm when- she lets out a desperate whine as he pulls back. “Turn over,” he tells her in a hoarse voice. “Turn over,” he repeats. “I remem- know how you like to be fucked,” he says. She whimpers and flips over onto her hands and knees before stretching out so her chest is flat against the bed and her fingers are curled around the edge of the mattress. They both fall silent again as far as words are concerned; the only sounds are their gasps and his grunts as he holds her hips firmly in his grasp and thrusts hard and fast. She spreads her knees wider so she can dip her back down, giving him a new angle and he swears softly as she squeals - this new angle lets him go deeper and the length of his cock is rubbing against her clit torturously with every thrust.

“Oh fuck, oh god, you’re gonna make me come,” she announces in a high, needy voice. “Sir, please!”

“Be my best girl and come on my cock,” He tells her in a firm voice. “Be my good Kitten and let me feel your pussy clench my thick cock as I make you come.” His words are too much for her; whereas before they’d push her over the edge to a screaming climax, now they shoot her lust in the foot. With a gasp, her legs go flat and he’s groaning at the loss. “Honey, you didn’t-“

“You can’t-,” she whimpers. “You can’t just talk to me like you used - like everything is good. It’s not. Just because I was weak and came over - again - doesn’t mean you can just…” she closes her eyes, frustrated. “You ended it. You didn’t want me to be your best girl anymore. You didn’t want me to be your Kitten or your Angel or your honey or your baby anymore.” Each pet name comes out with a sense of bitter loss and she buries her face in his pillows with a soft cry. “You broke up with me and I don’t know why and I definitely don’t know why I keep coming back when nothing changes - we fuck and you roll over and go to sleep and I go home and wait- like a moron- for the next time you’ll call, hating myself the entire time.” She’s crying harder now and his hands close over her hips so he can flip her over. Stubbornly, she clutches the pillow to her face even now that he’s got her on her back.

He says her name softly. “Please. Can we talk?” She mumbles something and he tugs at the pillow good-naturedly. “Please.” Something in his voice makes her cave and she lets him pull the pillow from her grasp. “I’m the moron.” His words are simple and yet she can’t process them. She blinks at him slowly and he shakes his head, obviously beyond disappointed in himself. “I’m the moron. I ended it, I broke up with you, because I was afraid of how much I cared for you. I was terrified that I would do something stupid like ask you to ma- no - please don’t cry,” he says desperately when her face twists in anguish, and the tears flow faster. He’s wiping at her face delicately with the pad of his thumb, obviously heartbroken at the pain that he’s caused her. “I only meant - we’re still young and I was sure if I asked you…that, that I’d find a way to screw it up and hurt you. I’m not saying that asking you to -asking you that would be stupid; I’m saying that I’m a moron and I’d find a way to ruin it. I had to protect you.”

“So you broke up with me? You decided to protect me by hurting me and ending it with no explanation?” He can hear that she doesn’t believe him.

“I told you I’m a moron. I thought - I thought you’d find someone else that would treat you right. I thought that I’d find someone else. Someone I’d be okay with hurting - no, that sounds bad - I don’t mean - I just mean - I’m an idiot and I hurt the people I love. And I figured I would never love anyone as much as I loved…love you, so it wouldn’t matter if I hurt them or not. I couldn’t bear to break your heart. So I thought I was keeping you safe by ending it and it wasn’t until you were gone that I realized I’d broken us both. I tried to be strong; I tried to not call you. But when I started drinking, I just - that first night, I didn’t expect you to come over. And I was so happy you did but so angry at myself because I knew then that I had done something incredibly stupid in letting you go. I promised I wouldn’t call again. I promised I’d let you move on and find someone who would take care of you and wouldn’t hurt you like I had. And I kept breaking my promise. And I’m so sorry. Please. I’m so sorry and I - I, fuck, I love you so much. I miss you so much.”

It’s too much for her to process. There’s a roaring sound inside her ears, an ocean of frustration and loss and longing, and he’s looking at her with tears in his eyes and she can’t help it; she grabs his face and brings his mouth to hers. “You’re a moron,” she murmurs against his lips, and he moans, nodding. “So do something smart and fuck me,” she finishes, and he pulls back to stare at her with wide eyes. “I didn’t misspeak,” she tells him. “You broke up with me but now you say you love and miss me? Prove it.”

He groans and, a hand on either side of her head, kisses her softly before moving his lips down her neck and lower still, kissing gently between her breasts and down over her stomach and hips. She whimpers and squirms under his touch, gasping when he nibbles on your hip bones. “Can I -?” The pause hangs in the air and she’s not sure if he’s leaving an action unspoken or a pet name, but she wants him to keep going and she looks at him expectantly. He must sense this and he rests his head on her pelvis as he caresses her hips. “Can I eat my sweet Kitten out?” She inhales sharply - it was both he was keeping silent and the phrase brings back another memory.

“I just wanna eat my sweet Kitten out,” he murmurs, tugging her down onto the bed and rolling over on top of her. “Please, baby? I’m really good at it,” he adds with an exaggerated wink. “I’ll make my girl feel so good.”

“You’re a unicorn,” she tells him with a grin. “Begging to eat your girlfriend out?”

“You know I love it,” he practically whines, thumbs hooked into the waistband of her jeans. When she nods, he lets out a yelp of glee, grinning at her in ecstasy. “Thank you, Kitten. Promise I’ll make you feel so goddamn good.” Together they get her jeans off and he moans at the sight of her lacy panties, dark at the core. “Kitten,” he murmurs. “Who made you this wet?”

“You did, Sir,” she tells him, staring up at him with wide eyes. “You did this to your Kitten. You made Kitten so wet and needy.”

“It had better have been Sir,” he says with a grin, tickling her inner thighs and making her spread her legs. “Because Sir is the one who’s gonna make Kitten come.”

“Please,” she whimpers, hips rocking as he kisses all over her, tongue flicking out to tease her.

“Please?” he groans, looking at her with wide eyes. She nods and bites her lip. He mouths “thank you” as he settles between her legs, mouth closing over her and moaning when her legs spread and he can really taste her. “Kitten,” he murmurs, running his hands up her inner thighs and spreading her with his thumbs, licking eagerly. “My sweet, perfect Kitten…”

She whimpers, clutching at his hair and tugging, whining, and rubbing against his mouth. “Feels so good.”

“Miss you so much,” he whispers, shifting his hand to slide two fingers into her and making her moan. “Miss making you feel like this all the time,” he tells her. “Miss just being able to take care of you whenever I want. Whenever you want.”

“Baby…” he whines, nudging her with his foot from the other end of the couch. “I’m booooooored.” She looks up from her book and laughs as he crawls over and rests his head in her lap. “I’ve never been so bored in my life,” he announces dramatically, sighing and meeting her eyes.

“Your life must be pretty hard, my love,“ she teases, flipping the page and ruffling his hair affectionately. “How can I help?”

“Well,” he says briskly as though he’s been thinking about this. “You could let me eat you out.” She looks up from her book with eyebrows raised. “I know you’re reading,” he says quickly, grinning. “You can keep reading your book. Just take your leggings off and spread your pretty legs for me.”

Without hesitation, she closes the book and flings it onto the coffee table. “What book?” He laughs as she raises her hips to let him pull down her leggings and panties. “Like I’m really just gonna keep casually reading while you go down on me,” she says, laughing. “You’re crazy.”

“Crazy for you,” he shoots back quickly, dropping onto his knees in front of her and hooking a hand behind each of her knees, tugging her forward to the edge of the couch. “You comfortable, Kitten?” He smiles when she nods. “Good,” he says. “You’re gonna be here for a while.”

“I miss you.”

“I know,” she says breathlessly, closing her eyes and scratching at his scalp. “I know.” His tongue goes deeper and her toes curl, gasping. “Fuck, that feels so-“ she whines as he keeps going, tongue rubbing and fingers twisting. “Oh baby, you’re gonna make me - fuck! Now! Oh god, now, baby, now!” She’s shaking and trembling under his touch and he watches her with dark eyes, hair falling into them as she comes. She looks down and meets his eyes, whimpering at the sight. Hair a mess, lips swollen, cheeks flushed…he’s so gorgeous and it’s breaking her heart. He kisses her inner thigh and the feeling of his tongue on her skin is overwhelming.

“You called me baby,” he murmurs as she moans softly; he pulls back and smiles at her broadly. “You aren’t - you’re - have you forgiven me?” She looks uncertain and he falls silent, looking obviously uncomfortable. “I’m sorry - I shouldn’t have - fuck, I’m sorry.”

“I don’t know if I’ve - you really hurt me. You broke my heart.” She takes a shuddering breath and shoves herself back so she’s sitting up against his headboard. He looks defeated, so she beckons him closer and he crawls up the bed and sits next to her. Tentatively, he drapes an arm around her shoulder and she sinks down, pressed into his side. “You really hurt me.” He nods and remains silent. “I want…what do you want? I want to know what you want.”

He doesn’t hesitate. “I want you. I want a chance to show you how dumb I was and how much I love you.” She exhales hard, burying her face in his chest. “Kitten…” he says tentatively, and she seems to be okay with it - at least, she doesn’t visibly react, so he keeps talking. “Kitten, doesn’t this just feel right? You being back here, in bed with me?”

“I don’t know,” she admits, blinking back tears. “I don’t know. It feels good, but I don’t know that good and right are the same thing. You broke up with me - as much as you say you loved me-“

“Love,” He protests and she bites her lip. “I’m sorry, keep going.”

“As much as you say you love me, you still ended it. You still fathomed a world without me and you didn’t only fathom it, you created it. You actively took steps to remove me from your life, and I know you think you were protecting me, but you hurt me. You destroyed me when you left without any explanation. You didn’t hold me when I cried, you didn’t stop me when I moved out, you didn’t do anything until you got shitfaced and called me. And every time you call me and I come over, you fuck me in silence and then lay there, not even looking at me. What am I supposed to do with that?” She’s breathing hard, trying not to cry.

“It’s because I hate myself for bringing you over here and being too much of a coward to ask you to come back. Because I expect you to hate me, and I don’t want to talk and give you a reason to leave. Because for those moments, laying there in silence, feeling you in bed beside me, even though I know it’s only a matter of time before you leave…for those moments, it feels like you’re home. And then you leave and I fall apart all over again.”

“You…” she brushes at her tears furiously. “You don’t know how to communicate.”

“You’re right,” he agrees readily, wrapping her in his arms. “You’re absolutely right. I know you’re right and I know I need to work on that.”

“You shut down and shut me out and expect me to read your mind and then when I don’t, you assume that you’ve hurt me and you retreat further into your own world.” She’s trying not to be angry now and he can tell; he loosens his hold on her but it has the opposite effect. “Don’t fucking let go - you always let go when you should hold me tighter. You push me away and give up when you should be fighting for me!”

“I’m fighting now,” he protests and she laughs bitterly, sinking down lower on the bed and resting her head on his lap. His hands stroke her hair tenderly and she starts to cry; she can’t hold it in anymore. “I’m fighting now,” he repeats, voice softer. “Kitten, I’m fighting now.”

“What if it’s too late?” Her voice cracks and she whimpers, rolling to press her face to his stomach. “What if there’s nothing left to fight for? What if-“ she breaks off, crying harder now. “What if-“ and it’s too much; she closes her eyes and tries to catch her breath. “What if this is it? What if there’s no point? What if we never-“

“Don’t say that,” he begs, and she can hear the catch in his throat. “Baby, don’t say that. I wouldn’t - you wouldn’t - we wouldn’t keep ending up here like this if there wasn’t a point.” He laughs desperately. “Baby, don’t say that. Don’t - just, let me try.”

“I don’t know,” she whimpers. “I just don’t know if it’s - what if it doesn’t work, what will we do then? I just don’t know.”

“I don’t know either, but I do know I can’t bear to see you walk out of that door again. Can’t bear to-“ he stops talking and she looks up at him, stunned to see the silent tears rolling down his face. “Kitten, I don’t want to lose you.”

“You lost me once; you could do it again,” she whispers. “You did it once. You could do it again. You’d manage. You’d be fine.”

“No,” he shakes his head vigorously. “I didn’t lose you. I let you go. There’s a difference. If I were to really lose you, I wouldn’t make it. We both know you’re wrong. Even now, having let you go, I’m not fine. If I were really fine, if I were really surviving, I wouldn’t get drunk and call you. If I lost you and couldn’t call you, knew I’d never see you again- I love you. I love you so much. I don’t- I can’t lose you.”

“Dammit!” She’s frustrated and she sits up, punching at his chest. “Why are you doing this to me? Please, just -” Her punches must be doing something because he grabs both of her wrists and pushes her flat on her back so her head is towards the foot of the bed. Her hands are pinned over her head and he’s kneeling over her, straddling her. “Please,” she repeats, her tone very different now. They’re both suddenly aware of how naked they both are; her eyes flick to his erection before moving back up.

“You gonna keep punching me?” She shrugs as best she can with a wry grin and he chuckles, shaking his head in amusement. “Guess I’ll just have to keep you pinned down, hmmm?”

“Guess you will,” she murmurs, wiggling under him. The silence is thick and they’re both breathing shallowly, staring at each other. She decides to break the stillness of the room. “We’ve always been good at this part,” she tells him. When he looks confused, she explains. “Sex. We’ve always been good at sex.”

“Yeah,” he agrees, leaning down to kiss her lightly. He seems relieved that they’ve found common ground. Their lips brush together and he whispers her name tenderly as they embrace. “We have. We have always been really good at sex.” She rocks her hips back as he shifts on top of her. His lips meet hers again as he thrusts into her. “Really good,” he repeats as his tongue teases hers.

She groans, lurching up to kiss him fiercely as he rocks against her. “Feels so fucking - oh god, please!”

“Yes,” he murmurs in her ear. “Yes, baby. Want you to feel good.” She whimpers and moves against him, linking her ankles behind his back for leverage. He’s on top of her and they can each feel the other’s heartbeat. “Tell me you miss this,” he whispers, desperation in his voice. “Honey, tell me you miss this.”

“I do,” she moans, pressing her chest to his. “I do miss this. Oh god, - I’m gonna - right th- oh fuck fuck yes!”

“So come back,” he says softly, watching in awe as she trembles and reach her climax. “My sweet girl, come back.” He gasps as she squeezes around him and he bites her neck lightly, groaning when he comes.

“I can’t,” she finally says, breathing hard. “I can’t just-“ she pauses and shakes her head, taking a shuddering breath. “I can’t. I need - I need time.”

“I’ll give you time,” he promises, closing his eyes and resting his forehead on her shoulder. “I’ll give you all the time in the world.”

“What if I’m never ready?” She whispers, and he sighs, rolling off of her and falling flat on his back. She moves with him, curling into his side. “I’m not saying I’ll never be ready, I’m just - I’m scared.”

“I’m scared too,” he murmurs, kissing her temple. “I’m terrified to lose you. But I’d rather try again and know I might lose you rather than let you walk out of this door without ever even attempting. We were good, baby. We were so good. And I can be better, which means we’ll be better. I love you.”

“I-“ she hesitates and he kisses her softly, telling her that she doesn’t have to say it yet; he understands. “Thank you,” she whispers as he pulls the blankets up over both of their bodies.

“Of course.” His voice is quiet and she turns in his arms, resting her head on his chest as his grip on her tightens.

When she wakes up, he’s sprawled on his back and she’s curled into his side, one arm draped over his stomach. She knows what she has to do, and she feels sick. Her dreams were more like nightmares and she knows that no matter how hard he tries, he’ll never be able to fix this, fix the two of them. He may be ready to try again, but the damage, as far as she’s concerned, has been done. She wishes she could find it in her because she really does love him. But at some point, she tells herself, she has to protect her heart. And he is a risk she simply cannot rationalize at this point. It was too much the first time; she’s been torturing herself with these late-night trysts - she can’t fathom going through the entire thing again. No, she tells herself, better to end it now. Better to have loved and lost and attempt to heal than love, lose, and repeat 'til the brink of insanity.

As she crawls from the bed, she keeps her eyes on him, not wanting to disturb him. She shakes her head and frowns. She’s breaking his heart - something he doesn’t realize yet, but facts are facts - but trying not to disturb him. The truth of the matter is, he will be disturbed when he wakes up and finds her gone. That cannot be avoided. Gingerly, she crouches and picks her clothes up so she can dress quickly before she tiptoes out of the room. He stirs and she freezes, eyes locked on his body in the bed. The blankets are rumpled and she can see the impression her body left beside him. She muffles a sob and turns on her heel, moving swiftly through the house. As she passes through the living room, she sees the small notebook he always kept on the end table to jot down his random thoughts that came to him while he watched TV. She rips a sheet from it and grabs the fountain pen she bought him on a whim - it’s his favorite and it always rests beside the notebook.

The ink flows freely across the small page, bleeding as her tears fall. When she’s finished, she retraces her steps back and places the note on what was her pillow. She retreats again, trembling from head to toe.

His eyes flutter open as her car starts. Confused, he lifts his head and sees the white sheet of paper, a stark contrast against the dark sheets. He sits up and takes it in his hand. I’m sorry. I do love you. I always will. Please don’t call me again. Take care of yourself. The ink bleeds more.