Hurricane Boy // h.s au

5.

"The problem was she wanted to be loved so badly she couldn't tell it wasn't love."  — Leo Christopher

Immense brightness flooded her senses.

There was a distinct, sharp ringing in her ears. She was covered by something heavy and warm, the inhaling and exhaling of his breath brushing against the surface of her skin the only thing being heard. Sleep was still gently coating her eyes, slightly rubbing them with her hand in attempt to wake herself up. Sunlight began to slowly seep and bleed through her eyelids, causing her to attempt to squint them open.

They'd fallen asleep on her bed. Downstairs, she could hear the shuffling of her parents in the kitchen. It was then she recalled the events of the previous day. It was then she recalled his hands, touching her, roaming and grasping and smoothing over every inch of her body. It was then she remembered the acrid bitterness of his lips on her neck, remembered his venomous, thralling gaze and accusing tone.

His body was strung across her, and when she tried to sit up, he'd only pulled her closer into him, an almost inaudible groan of protest leaving his lips. She stared down at him, quietly observing him in his state of sleep. She observed the way the Saturday morning sun poured all over his peaceful, almost angelic face. She looked at the soft pink blush of his lips, at the glowing milkiness of his skin, at the tiny mole on the left side of his right eye, and finally up to his long silky eyelashes that were fluttering open as he began to wake up.

There was then that moment, that tiny infinity, those string of seconds woven together, bleeding and connecting to create this space in which they both reveled in, in which they both found solace and comfort in. These were the moments that she craved. The moments of absolute and complete serenity, of love and serendipity, of understanding one another just by the simple look in the others eyes. It was then she felt those same emotions she'd felt when she first saw him walk into the classroom on that rainy Monday morning all those months ago. The emotions welled up inside her, filled her chest with false promises and glazed her eyes with rose colored lenses.

She felt herself began to almost smile even, almost let herself forget the imprint of his hands on her skin from the day before, almost let herself forget the fire in his eyes scorching every ounce of confidence she had, almost forget the way she let him touch her, even when she hadn't wanted to be touched.

He'd moved his hand from her stomach to her cheeks, breaking eye contact as he began stroking her soft skin. But suddenly, this feeling of uneasiness and discomfort clouded her thoughts, and this inexplicable urge to take herself out of the situation she was in overtook any other sense of judgement she had.

She'd almost forgotten the events of the previous day. Almost.

She was pushing him away, and she knew he could tell. This only caused him to pull her in with a force even stronger than before.

His hand reached up from her cheeks to the back of her head, bringing her closer into him as he tenderly kissed her. A low "g'morning," left his lips before he kissed her once more. His skin was hot to the touch, but chills still managed to shoot up her spine at every soft kiss he planted on her lips.

She was squirming under his touch, and this she knew he could tell too.

"What's wrong?" he finally asked, slightly pulling away as he searched her eyes for any sign of emotion. She suddenly stopped shifting, wildly staring back into his eyes as though she were a deer caught in headlights. She was at a loss for words, not sure how to even answer the question. What was wrong with her? What had changed so drastically overnight that she could barely even look him in the eyes, barely feel his touch, barely stand to be in his presence?