Beneath the Ink (COMPLETE)

Sorry

Cecelia May

I watched him make chicken Alfredo.

I sat in silence with him, watching him as he cooked.

I couldn't believe that was the cause of his voice.

I felt awful, but I knew a man like him didn't appreciate to be looked at differently even if it was good.

He turned to me when it was cooking, the chicken being cooked, the noodles boiling.

I sat still, he walked to me, his hands on either side of my legs.

I blinked, his face troubled.

"What's wrong?" I whispered, wishing he was more of an open book.

He searched my face like it could give him answers to anything.

But I had no idea what he was looking for.

I watched one of his hands tremble, grabbing a strand of my hair, curling it around his finger.

"Your shaking so bad." I frowned, reaching for his hand but he immediately moved it away.

"Oh." I whispered.

"Do you not like being touched?" I asked and his eyes moved between mine and the strand of hair he just touched.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to do that." I apologized.

He took a deep breath, his lips twisting.

"I won't do it again." I tucked my hands under my thighs.

He reached up, doing the same thing, feeling the strands of my hair, avoiding my face.

He curled it, letting it go, watching it spring back into place.

"What is it that you don't like?" I wondered out loud, not expecting a response.

"Sweaty skin." He whispered.

He turned from me, adjusting what he was cooking.

I watched him. He was so strange.

"I'm just gonna talk out loud. And be honest, but I'm so curious as to how this will work. It's clearly hard for you to communicate vocally, I'm absolutely willing, you're very interesting although I don't know much. But even if you have to write, I just don't want to be the one forcing in all the effort. I'm absolutely more than willing to meet halfway or even more, but I don't think I could do 100%." I frowned.

I saw him take a breath, beginning to make the sauce.

He turned, grabbing the cup, filling it merely to the brim with water before sipping and clearing his throat.

"I-I like you. A lot." He flinched, taking another drink.

"I'm willing to work." He took a breath, another sip.

"I-I just need time an-and patience." He said.

I nodded.

He took a sip, setting the water down.

He walked to me, standing right in front of me.

"I-" he looked frustrated with himself.

"It's okay." I put my hand over his shoulder on his sleeve, keeping his boundary. It flexed under my touch but he didn't react negatively.

"Y-you need to be around. M-more. Because t-this isn't temporary C-Cecelia." He said and I loved how he said my name.

"It's just the first date." I whispered.

He stood, shaking his head 'no' in heavy motion as he turned, finishing the food, serving the food into bowls.

-

He finished his food, remaining at the table as I ate.

"How will this work if you also struggle with touch? I don't want to make you uncomfortable." I said, twirling the pasta on my fork.

"I-I'll learn." He said.

"But I'd like to know boundaries. I don't want to cross any. I don't want to overwhelm you."

He shook his head.

"I'll b-be fine."

I frowned, eating the forkful.

I was so tired but I felt bad to say anything.

"Home." He said and I looked at him.

"Home?" I asked.

He sighed, I felt bad for making him speak.

"Y-you're ti-tired." He told me.

I was apparently very obvious.

"It's okay."

He stood, walking to my side, grabbing the bowl, the last bite and pressing it to my lips until I accepted it into my mouth.

He went, cleaning the bowl.

I stood and he grabbed his keys and phone.

Then he drove me home.

He walked in, not caring for an invite as he turned on my lights, walking to my room like he'd been here a thousand times.

I followed, he unmade my bed, grabbing my phone from my hand, putting it on the charger as he pointed to the bathroom.

I went, doing my night routine, feeling strange about a man I barely spoke to, literally, was in my house.

But I also felt a sense of security.

I went back, he was sitting at the foot of my bed.,

I went to my closet, grabbing my pajamas and going into the bathroom, changing.

I came back, putting my clothes in my dirty hamper.

I laid down.

"I'm sorry for making you talk so much." I frowned.

He stood, bringing the covers up, almost tucking me in.

"It's not so terrible." He whispered.

"Does it hurt less when you talk low?" I asked.

"Mmhm, the stuttering s-stops a bit too." He merely mouthed.

I nodded.

"Thank you." He whispered.

I smiled.

"You cook very well." I said and he shrugged.

"Goodnight." I said and he turned off my light, leaving.

"Rhodes!" I shouted and he came back quickly.

"I need my door locked-"

He nodded like he already knew, shutting my door.

I turned away from the door, falling asleep soundly.