𝐑𝐮𝐧𝐚𝐰𝐚𝐲 |𝟏𝟖+

22 || Quest For Comfort

Song: The Weeknd - Hurt You (slowed + reverb)

𝔚𝔚𝔚
Josie

Sweaty palms, shortness of breath and a turning stomach.

Was this what having a heart attack felt like?

I pull at the collar of my oversized T-shirt and proceed to carefully make my way up the steps to the second floor.

There was absolutely no reason for me to be so nervous. I've slept next to the man enough times to know how he grew somewhat tolerable when he was drowsy. How he liked his own space but somehow ended up glued to me in the mornings.

I had nothing to be anxious about. This was all familiar.

But why couldn't I push the anxiety away?

Maybe it had something to do with the fact that in my entire 18 -almost 19 - years of life, the only people who had wiped my tears and made me feel safe were Daniel and now Nico.

Or maybe it was because he'd said please.

Please.

The only other time Nico had said it, he was lying on the floor, a bullet lodged into his side and a pool of blood gathering by his hip.

And even then he was reluctant.

I take the stairs two at a time, practically speed walking towards the large black doors at the end of the hallway before stopping in front of them.

I take a moment to eye the intimidating doors that I can't seem to work up the courage to walk through, and instead pace back and forth before them.

It'd been hours since we'd spoken in the kitchen and in that time, I'd showered, changed and given myself a proper bandaid after inspecting the cut.

It was by no means deep, more of a graze and something told me that Nico's aim was never off. Which solidified the idea that if he really wanted to hurt me, he wouldn't have done it by lightly grazing the side of my neck.

But that didn't mean all was forgiven in this little bubble he'd trapped me in.

I hate him.

But sometimes he does things that make me not hate him.

It's confusing.

"The fuck are you doing?"

I stop my pacing to snap my head towards the bedroom door that I hadn't realized had opened.

Like a deer caught in headlights, I straighten out and look towards Nico who's standing in the doorframe eyeing me. My mouth opens ready to jump to my defense, but my response dries up in my throat the moment I trail my eyes over his bare chest.

Clad in nothing but a pair of grey sweatpants, the dark ink of his brad muscular chest stares back at me in all of its glory and I can't seem to look away.

And when I do finally mange to pry my eyes away from his bare chest and abdomen dancing in pretty blank ink, my eyes go to the white towel draped around his broad shoulders and then to his dark ink coloured hair that's wet atop his head.