Thursday Evening
folder
Romance › General
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
22
Views:
3,317
Reviews:
26
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
Romance › General
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
22
Views:
3,317
Reviews:
26
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance of characters to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. The Author holds exclusive rights to this work. Unauthorized duplication is prohibited.
Reassurance
A/N~ Well, I was planning on adding two chapters for your Christmas presents, but... that's not going to happen. Instead, you just get Jon's rxn to the rant.
And I think I lied. You find out a whole buncha stuff about the characters in the *next* chapter. But it's half-typed. That means it's half-done. Yay.
Constructive Criticism=good.
Reviews are awesome, too.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“That’s why I’ve been gone.” The words echoed. As if they’d been shouted, though he had spoken that last bit more softly than anything else. Now, he’s looking at me, as if he’s expecting me to say something.
I don’t know what to say. This was like a scene from a movie, and I was supposed to say something equally romantic and perfect to what he just said. But I can’t. I want to, but I don’t have that skill. I’ve never been able to tell him exactly what I want to say to him. But that was because I was not that brave. All those things I’d wanted to say, where were they now, when I need them?
I move forward and wrap my arms around him in what I hope to be a non-sexual and comforting hug. He’s shaking. From anger.
He tentatively responds, as if he’s not used to being hugged in such a manner. He’s new to this situation , it seems.
“I’m not mad at you. I’m mad at everything else,” I hear him whisper.
I know. But I couldn’t stand to see him that angry, that sad, that self-loathing. With my arms around him, I didn’t have to see the anger. And I didn’t have to say anything. This action would speak louder than what I could say, now.
I still have questions. And I debate asking them to calm him. But that should wait. I was trying to pin down the right words. The ones that would rival his, but tell him how I felt at the same time.
I don’t want him back on the streets. Not if it hurts him. Even if I never saw him again. But I couldn’t say that. My life was much too torturous without him. That would only be a half-truth. And he deserves the truth. I’m too selfish.
“If you stay with me… I won’t let you go back. I won’t let you be hurt, anymore.” I finally have the courage to whisper.
And I think I lied. You find out a whole buncha stuff about the characters in the *next* chapter. But it's half-typed. That means it's half-done. Yay.
Constructive Criticism=good.
Reviews are awesome, too.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“That’s why I’ve been gone.” The words echoed. As if they’d been shouted, though he had spoken that last bit more softly than anything else. Now, he’s looking at me, as if he’s expecting me to say something.
I don’t know what to say. This was like a scene from a movie, and I was supposed to say something equally romantic and perfect to what he just said. But I can’t. I want to, but I don’t have that skill. I’ve never been able to tell him exactly what I want to say to him. But that was because I was not that brave. All those things I’d wanted to say, where were they now, when I need them?
I move forward and wrap my arms around him in what I hope to be a non-sexual and comforting hug. He’s shaking. From anger.
He tentatively responds, as if he’s not used to being hugged in such a manner. He’s new to this situation , it seems.
“I’m not mad at you. I’m mad at everything else,” I hear him whisper.
I know. But I couldn’t stand to see him that angry, that sad, that self-loathing. With my arms around him, I didn’t have to see the anger. And I didn’t have to say anything. This action would speak louder than what I could say, now.
I still have questions. And I debate asking them to calm him. But that should wait. I was trying to pin down the right words. The ones that would rival his, but tell him how I felt at the same time.
I don’t want him back on the streets. Not if it hurts him. Even if I never saw him again. But I couldn’t say that. My life was much too torturous without him. That would only be a half-truth. And he deserves the truth. I’m too selfish.
“If you stay with me… I won’t let you go back. I won’t let you be hurt, anymore.” I finally have the courage to whisper.