𝓙𝓪𝓷𝓮 (18+) | ON PAUSE

Chapter 11 | Perfect

Jaylin.

We just lay down in silence, on one couch with two people in a dark living room with the silent TV with the splat noises outside from the rain.

It's just quiet and peaceful, I could almost laugh at how this situation is. We're fucking cuddling.

But nothing can be perfect can they?

It can't work. It will never will. People will say "You're perfect!" when they're telling a lie. If there was a such thing called perfect. You will be broken within seconds, because then its a lie.

It's best to be imperfect. That's what real beauty is, imperfection.

I have my eyes closed shut, with me and Andrew sharing one small blanket that somehow fits the both of us. I then feel something touch the side of my neck. I shoot open my eyes as I see Andrew looking beneath my jaw, his hand on my neck, no, his hand on my fucking strangled mark.

Then our eyes meet.

"What happened, Jaylin?" he asks quietly, like he wished he didn't ask but he did.

"I rather not say, Andrew." I say quietly not liking where this is going.

We stare back at each other as its back to the silence. But this silence was not just the silence from before. It was full with awkwardness and the feeling of being uncomfortable. I lost the comfort because he knows.

He knows what this mark is, he knows how it appeared, and he knows I'm in pain. In fucking pain. Rayne knew. Everybody fucking knows.

That's what I hate right now. Because he fucking knows. The one person that I wish wouldn't see through me so easily. Am I that transparent to people?

I could feel my pinched expression on my face. I slowly sit up. "I think its getting late now, Andrew."

"Its only 10." He sits up.

I just look at this fake flower painting across the wall. Why do we have a motherfucking flower painting in this house?

"Jaylin." I can feel the grasp he wants with my hand but I launch away.

"You've been here long enough." I hop off the couch as I place my hand on my hot frustrated head.

"I can be here longer than enough." he responds.

"I-god, Andrew," I groan, spinning around. "Can't you see that I don't want you here right now?" I almost yell but I just talk frustratedly.

"Then you want me to leave?"

Why is he asking this?!

"Yes! I want you to fucking leave!" I finally yell. "I want you to stop asking questions! I want you stop pestering into my life when I barely know you!-"

"You don't 'barely' know me." He retorted.  "After what I told you? No. You do. You fucking know me now. Because I just told you my whole life on this couch! Because you fucking asked me! Am I wrong?" he yells, pointing at the couch.

"Fine! I fucking know you! I know your whole life! But that still doesn't deny the fact that I don't want you here anymore! So leave! Just leave Andrew! I don't want you here! I don't need you here!" I grab his hand that was turned into a fist by his side that is now loosened as I grabbed it.

I drag him over to the front door as I find his keys for him, then grabbing his jacket and pushing it against his chest, then grabbing his helmet and slamming it against his chest, trying to push him out but now I can't even budge the guy.