blind - owen teague | ✔️

22. In These Arms

Everything was that same gray haze again. My heart dropped. Did I not have the sight yet? Slowly, the world came into focus. It was like the cameras when everything was a slow blur that faded to pictures.

Except, there weren't pictures. It was too dark. I couldn't see a thing. The room was too dim from the blanketed black-out curtains that covered the windows. I heard sound and I felt Owen's heat leave me.

The room was deathly silent, to the point that my heart thudded in my ears. My heart felt like sadness was slowly leaking through it, but there wasn't a thing I could do about it. I couldn't see.

As something moved, a bright sunbeam filtered through the crack in the curtains, illuminating my face. My eyes stung and shut immediately, on instinct my hands covered them as they adjusted. The plastic rungs of the curtain scraped on the curtain rod as slowly, the room flooded in light.

Off skin, the sun provided an incandescent feel as I peeked through my fingers in quiet trepidation. The hands that pulled the curtains were pale, bony. Up his arm was the same feel, but there were muscles. My breath hitched.

A black shirt sleeve was rolled up to his elbow. His jeans were dark wash. He was... Tall. I couldn't force myself to look anymore as I took in his apparel. His body was thin.

His collarbones protruded slightly and it seemed he wasn't breathing. Neither was I. A sharp jawline had chiseled features, with the hollow of his cheek dipped in just slightly. His lips were a bit thin, but nowhere near unattractive. His nose fit his face.

When I saw the sun hit those ocean eyes, his hand still holding the curtain, my heart stopped. They weren't just blue... They were cerulean, so deep. The whole world was caged there with guarded emotion. Brown locks had soft curls in it, but they were just messy, disheveled as if someone ran their hands through them.

It was hard to believe he was real.

Without looking at me, it was like I heard his voice for the first time. I watched his lips form the words, but it was like I almost didn't hear them. My mind was playing catch up to my heart, which found itself trapped onto him and my sight had taken over.

"Aren't you going to say something?" He sounded nervous, guarded. This was the voice that had me hooked at the start, but seeing it match to a face was so surreal. My heart squeezed and I, overwhelmed, felt tears form in my eyes. I didn't know why.

I couldn't stop this feeling. He was the man I loved, and I couldn't stop it. Pure hysteria.

"You're... You're beautiful." I almost couldn't say it. I had to force it through the choked up feeling I had, my heart almost too full to the point I couldn't speak.

I heard a shy exhale leave him, almost laughing as he looked from the window, to me. As his blue eyes met mine, I felt that breathless feeling again. He had me in the palm of his hand, he had me like a puppet on his string. I was helpless. I was in love.

God, looking at him, I could feel my heart sink to my knees. It was nothing to hearing his voice and clinging to it.

As he moved closer to me, it was as if my heart climbed slowly higher and higher to my throat. I was getting choked up the closer he got.

His intense blue gaze stared down at me and I could only tip my head back and stare at him with a slightly unfocused gaze. He was seeing my eyes for the first time. I didn't know what to look at. His beautiful eyes? His pallid skin with amazingly deep and chiseled features? It was cathartic.

"Hey, don't cry." His murmur caused me to realize a stray tear fell down my cheek that I didn't notice. How could I when someone I finally got to see was in front of me? My whole heart. That's what was in front of me.

"I'm sorry." I replied as I felt his warm palm slide to the back of my head, his fingers in my hair. I watched his blue eyes watch mine and his other hand tenderly brushed my cheek. I was unable to do anything but watch him, my body wanting to just stay in his hold. My will was his.

"Why were we hurting each other so much?" His tone was melancholy, and I didn't pretend to know why. He was as sad as I was. We had been wanting too much too fast. We were each other's lovers. I was his inamorata.

"We just needed a little patience. We made it, didn't we?" I don't know where my voice came from, because of all the feelings I felt in my chest.

"We made it." He agreed and I watched him swallow, but I didn't know why. My hands were trembling in my lap so I knotted them in the blanket. We were so close. It was as if he was real now, now that I could see him and my mind wasn't convincing me he wasn't.

"Has anyone told you that your eyes are beautiful?" Owen asked softly and I couldn't stop looking at his baby blue hues. He had me like putty.

"No, and it wouldn't have mattered to me, because it only matters when you say it." I admitted shyly before I saw his lips curve up in a soft smile. My heart fluttered and looking up to his eyes, I realized they'd fallen shut, so mine did too.

His hand in my hair pulled my head up slightly and worlds collided when his lips touched my forehead. They were still slightly rough and my heart began to pound wildly in anticipation. His lips found my temple, then my right cheekbone, and then my left. His lips pressed to the tip of my nose and my breath lodged in anticipation.

His forehead leaned on mine and slightly nuzzled it. His voice was slightly rough and I could barely breathe. I was light headed and so barely there.

"[F/n]." He paused. Quoting British literature, he continued. "'You have bewitched me, body and soul and I love... I love... I love you. I never wish to be parted from you this day onward.'"

My heart surrendered as his lips brushed against mine, the feeling sending a flood of butterflies down my chest before, finally, his lips fully captured mine. This was the feeling, I realized, I'd been waiting on this whole time. This arguing, this pain, this feeling - it was the insecurity, the nervousness. Being so young, it was hard to handle love when you're misused.

I memorized his lips and found solace in it as he wrote his name on them. I was utterly captivated, enamoured on Owen. I was too far, too deep in love with him.

Pulling away from the soft, passionate, but breathless kiss, his forehead found mine again and my heart was nearly palpating at this point.

"I want you like the roses want the rain." I mumbled to him, to see if he would pick up on it.

"I need you like the poet needs the pain." I could hear the smile in his voice and another tear fell from my eye. "Bon Jovi, very good."

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