Flames Between Us (bxb) | ✔

Chapter Thirty Eight

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MICAH BLEU

I wanted to admit that I'm strong, but I'm not. I'm weak in every sense of the word. They might even say I self-sabotage when things get rough, it's a defence mechanism that I wish I could control. But it's like my whole body goes into shutdown and I cannot function within high society, I push people away, I neglect my own needs. I destroy everything mentally because I can't handle it.

And that right here is my toxic trait.

I did it with Weston, I did it with leaving Neptune too early and now I'm doing it with my mother.

Segregating myself from the outside world so I no longer had to deal with the grief, guilt and sadness that weighs upon my shoulders.

How has my life turned upside down in the matter of weeks?

I guess I had no one else to blame.

It was my fault I pushed everyone away, went into my shell and wished that everything would blow over. But it wouldn't, my mum isn't going to get magically better. She has terminal cancer, she doesn't even know how long she has left. If I'm honest, I don't even want to know.

I cannot imagine life without my mother, she's the only family I have. She's been my rock since birth, she brought me into this world as a single parent when we barely had any money to buy food or pay for rent. She went above and beyond to make sure I didn't go without, meaning she missed meals.

After I got off the phone with my mother, I remember laying in bed and not sleeping a wink. I don't ever recall sleeping until now but I must have otherwise I'd most likely be going insane. Or maybe I already was.

I watched the sun rise and then set on repeat, I had no idea what day it was. Was I even alive right now?

Was this a long awaited dream? Nightmare more like.

I hope I wake up soon.

When I finally somewhat gain consciousness, the tears around my eyes had crusted to my skin, my mouth drier than the desert.

That's when I realised that I was buried deep into Weston's body, his arms were tightly wrapped around mine as I rested my face into the crook of his neck. He smelt like peace, a mixture of fresh laundry softener and a hint of his delicious aftershave.

He smelt like him–of course he would. I wasn't expecting it to upset me as much as it did.

Weston has been here for a little while, I have been wrapped up in his arms since the moment he came, or at least I remember it that way. Now we have fallen back to my bed, laying down against my unmade sheets.

His hand clutches the back of my head as his other strokes my back gently.

We have been laying here for what felt like hours but I didn't realise how much I needed it. He was dressed in a blazer, suit and trousers. Didn't he have work?

What was he doing trying to help my pathetic self?

After breaking up with him, ignoring his messages, his calls. Shutting him out completely. And yet he's here trying to comfort me?

I clench my eyes shut, releasing another batch of tears.

That just proves what kind of person he is. Too caring. The world doesn't deserve him.

Maybe I didn't deserve him. He's the only person that can calm me, that can comfort me, that can stop me from feeling lonely. I needed him more than I knew. Just touching his body made me feel like home, it's like I fit so perfectly inside his arms, face buried into his collarbone.