blind - owen teague | ✔️

14. ...Before You Can Walk

Inconsolable sobs wracked out my body as my fingers curled into the familiar fabric of Owen's shirt. The pillow was squished between us and my sobs broke as my chest squeezed tightly in unwanted pain.

It wasn't a burning pain, it just was tight and uncomfortable, as if I twisted something and I couldn't unknot it. The tears were burning down my cold cheeks and my mind couldn't wrap around the thought of me snapping something in my tumble.

I didn't know why I was crying so much, but I know it didn't hurt so bad. Maybe it was because I'd tried to walk, but the action failed me, and the panic made the tears burst from me.

Suddenly, warmth spread from my back as I hiccupped softly, a warm feeling rubbing tender, pressured circles on my back, right on the center of my arched spine.

"Just breathe." The words were warm, laced with methodical caution and concern that came straight from Owen as a hum left me that I couldn't stop.

It was contented as I sniffled and buried harder into his gravitating warmth that warmed my whole body. Not long after he started the soft circles, he turned me over, making me completely tense as he slid the pillow under my bandaged knee.

"Sh... Sh..." He whispered, before I felt a lanky and gentle arm around my middle, and my hand rose gently to what I was pretty sure was his bicep.

Tracing down it, I sniffled and felt the rise and fall, hills and valleys of small, defined muscles that belonged to him. I felt pressure on my shoulder and knew that's where his head lay from the ticklish locks on my neck.

"It's okay. It's all okay." His voice was quiet as he held me and my sobs diminished as if they'd never even been there, as if they'd never escaped a dam and flooded his shirt.

"I'm sorry... I'm so much trouble." My words were whimpered out as I felt his hand travel up and down my side, making me shiver and purr. His touch was so gentle, it made my body light up precariously with the want of more.

Given my circumstances, that was pretty dangerous.

A blind girl had tripped and fallen for someone in the darkness, and her own boundaries and walls had been smashed down without any effort at all.

That was dangerous. I felt like I wanted him to kiss me, to hold me like he had been doing, to kiss my skin, to praise it and rub it.

"You're not too much trouble, you're not a mess, you're my mess now." Owen murmured right next to my ear, leaving chill bumps in its wake as he brushed back a lock of hair from my face.

I didn't know what he was doing anymore. Nothing was official and I didn't know if he was trapping me, but I pushed that aside to hum in reply. He could have lied to me and I would never know. I'd never know. I'd probably thank him.

My hand found his hair, making his head press into my hand. It was so soft and I just wanted to have him here forever, his head on my chest and my fingers in his.

I smiled as he nuzzled his face into my hand, feeling all his facial features before I laughed softly.

"That sound again..." He murmured and I could feel the smile on his chapped lips against my hand, making the smile return to my own face.

"You like me laughing, don't you?"

"I like you happy, [F/n]."

My smile stayed and I tugged him so he held me tighter, my fingers in his hair with his head on my shoulder. That was good enough for me.

"Can you read to me, Owen?"

"What would you like me to read?"

I paused and turned my face to his, and our noses touched slightly, before I felt him nestle his nose on mine. A blush rose to my cheeks and my heart lodged itself in my throat. An Eskimo kiss.

"How about Pride and Prejudice?" My voice had fallen to a softer tone due to my heart thumping loudly in my ears. What was he doing to me?

His own voice matched. "Okay." It was quiet before the contact between our noses disconnected when he got the book from my nightstand and opened it up, and his suede voice started the British literature.

My head now buried up in his neck, breathing in the smell of his cologne as he read to me, calmed me. I was once a sobbing mess and within minutes, this boy had me in a puddle on his chest.

I didn't need to know anymore than that as he spoke, his fingers tracing up the curve of my side and back down again as I hummed and sighed in pleasure with the occasional shiver.

You were wrong, Owen. I'm a fool. I'm a fool for you.