Work Text:
You know this is a bad idea.
Today, you looked up at me in the studio and smiled. You were beautiful, guitar in your lap. I smiled back, whether I had wanted to or not. Your eyes had a specific shine to them that wasn't present in your usual appearance. I had noticed.
Now you're knocking on my door and I don't know if I'm praying for you to leave or for you to come straight in. I don't move. It's up to you.
You know I'm in here, alone, anyway.
The door cracks open. Pained, I sigh deeply and roll around in my bed to face you. My fingers twitch. When will you move out of that doorway?
You smile again. You've smiled at me a lot, lately, actually. It's not like it's abnormal, but I like to keep count. It seems genuine, but pitiful. Wary. My expression remains the same. You finally take off your shoes and come in.
You stand in front of me, waiting for something. I'm waiting too.
I think you open your mouth to speak, but I don't hear anything. I like the way your dark blond hair frames your face. You lean over me and your hair is pulled down by gravity, a strand falling upon my face. You must be saying something again.
I don't know what happened to me between recording and coming home. I had been alright for a while. But this has become tradition.
I feel not present.
You confuse me. I would assume you wanted me gone each time we argued. But then you'd calm down the both of us, whether I was angry or crying, and I'd realize that one argument meant nothing. Sometimes it feels like you don't sense me next to you, but sometimes it feels like being next to each other is all you want and all you can feel. You confuse me when you lean into my touch. I notice that we both always search for contact.
I don't think I'm worthy of you.
You probably think that I think I'm too good for you.
I'm not soulless.
You don't understand me.
Your hand cups my face and you carefully drop to your knees, bringing us closer.
“Roger?”
I can hear you now.
“Are you feeling alright?”
I nod slightly against your touch. You know I'm lying.
I want to keep myself away from you. It's painful.
Yet I don't think either of us would have a happy ending.
The fact that you care about me is shocking. I don't understand why anybody would even try to reach out to me.
I don't want to hurt you.
“Did you even hear what I was saying?”
You sound exhausted.
I'm tiring.
A worn down smile appears on my face. I shake my head ‘no’.
“I asked if I could stay with you.”
“Well you already are.”
“Are you against it?”
“No.”
I focus on the feeling of your warm hand on my cheek. Your other hand comes up to cup my face, as well, and you hold me in between your palms like I'm special.
You really shouldn't be doing this.
It's like you intentionally make it harder for me to hold back.
Your gaze is affectionate, and I hope mine reflects yours.
You make me feel a lot of brand new things.
I don't know what I would do without you.
It's like you're breaking through every security system I had set up for myself. Not many people would bother with that.
It's impressive how well you know me sometimes.
Maybe you don't understand me entirely, but I sense your intentions. And I think I've thought too highly of myself. Because maybe I don't understand you, either.
You put your lips against my forehead carefully and I feel like I hadn't had anybody so close to my heart before. Which is ridiculous.
You're doing things to me that I wish would've stayed fantasies. Maybe that way I wouldn't get attached.
You lift your head to look at me again.
“For how long?”
I raise an eyebrow, asking you to elaborate on that question.
“Uh, staying over, you know… For how long will you be alone?”
“Never.”
Or always, I think.
You hum, confused.
“I won't ever be alone if I'm with you.”
You scoff. I'm being cheesy. But I know that you smiled harder at that, and I know that your body relaxed.
“You can stay as long as you'd like,” I pause. “... Nobody's coming over.”
The world has isolated itself from me.
Except for you.
You lightly press your fingers to my forehead, and then you kiss it again.
“Have you eaten anything?”
I shake my head. No.
You walk off to the kitchen for a few minutes and return with a sandwich and a glass of water.
You take care of me.
I eat carefully to not leave crumbs in my bed. You're just as careful to wipe each crumb off that I don't notice.
I watch as you take off your shirt and pants. You're beautifully built. You look just perfect. You lay down beside me. I roll over so my back won't be turned towards you. I don't want you out of my sight.
I put my arms around you and you reciprocate.
We both know we shouldn't be doing this.
And we both don't care .
You press your body against mine and it's all I can feel. I kiss your face gently, wherever I can reach. It's not the first time I've put my lips against you. I hope you feel how much I love you.
For the first time ever, though, you grab my head in your hands and kiss me on the lips hard. My heartbeat picks up. If I was sleepy before, now I am in a full panic. But your kiss turns gentle and it's soothing.
I don't think holding back from loving you should even be an option anymore.
When you break the kiss, I whisper it against your lips. And you say it back, I love you , and then I say it over and over and over. It's the only sentence I can form anymore.
You smile at me again and I make sure to remember it.