What Does Love Feel Like? | ENGLOT one shots

Red 2

Part 2 of Red (Red Flag Engfa)

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Charlotte's POV:

Charlotte
"I'll be there ❤️"

Engfa
"I'll be waiting."

Engfa's house was an oasis of calm, a stark contrast to the turmoil within Charlotte. The scent of jasmine tea hung in the air, mingling with the warm aroma of baking cookies. Engfa met her at the door, her usually vibrant eyes veiled with exhaustion.

"Oh, Charlotte," she sighed, pulling her into a tight embrace. "It's been a day."

Charlotte's initial resentment softened, replaced by a pang of concern. The day's frustrations melted away, replaced by a desperate need to comfort, to understand.

"Heyy, you good?" Charlotte asked softly.

"I'm sorry." Engfa whispers.

Charlotte knows exactly what sheks apologizing for and replies, "It's whatever. Doesn't matter."

They talked, aimlessly at first, then with the easy familiarity of lovers. Engfa confessed to a migraine, an argument with her mom, a need for solace that only Charlotte could provide. Charlotte listened, her anger melting away like ice under the summer sun.

They spent the afternoon like moths drawn to a flame, rediscovering the quiet comfort of each other's presence. Engfa laughed at Charlotte's silly jokes, brewed herbal tea, and traced absent circles on Charlotte's palm.

But then, the storm returned, disguised as a simple question. "Did you miss me?" Engfa asked, her eyes searching Charlotte's face.

The question, innocent on its surface, opened a chasm of unspoken resentments. "Miss you?" Charlotte echoed, her voice tight with emotion. "I spent the day wondering if I'd ever see you again, if you found someone else to play with."

The smile vanished from Engfa's face, replaced by a flicker of defensiveness. "I wouldn't do that, Charlotte," she protested. "You know I wouldn't."

"Do I?" Charlotte countered, her voice rising. "How can I know anything, Engfa, when you disappear like a ghost every time the going gets tough?"

Engfa's face flushed crimson, the defensiveness morphing into a simmering rage. "I said I'm sorry," she hissed, her voice laced with venom. "Is that not enough? Do you need me to crawl on the goddamn floor, beg for your forgiveness?"

Charlotte flinched at the harshness, but her back straightened, her voice hardening in resolve. "No," she said, each word a nail hammered into the coffin of their fragile peace. "I need you to be present, Engfa. That's all!"

"You make me sound like a villain, Charlotte," Engfa spat, her voice sharp and brittle. "Like I'm some fickle plaything, discarding you at will."

She lashed out, sweeping a china vase from the mantlepiece. It hit the floor with a sickening crunch, porcelain shards scattering like fallen stars. Charlotte gasped, fear momentarily eclipsing her anger.

Engfa, chest heaving, stared at the wreckage, her eyes wide and haunted. She looked like a whirlwind, still spinning with the force of their argument, but suddenly aware of the destruction in its wake. Her hand, the one that had just flung the vase, was now pressed against her mouth, knuckles white.

...

Charlotte stared at the smashed china vase, its porcelain shards mirroring the shattered pieces of her heart. Engfa stood across the room, arms crossed, her face a mask of defiance. It wasn't the first time their fights had escalated, the first time she'd found herself picking up the wreckage of their relationship, both literal and metaphorical.

The fight, as usual, had been about nothing. A misplaced comment, a misinterpreted glance, and Engfa had withdrawn into a storm cloud, her silence heavier than thunder. Charlotte, exhausted by the endless cycle of push and pull, had finally reached her limit.

"I can't do this anymore," Charlotte said, her voice trembling. "I can't keep picking up the pieces, Engfa. I can't keep chasing you when you push me away."

Engfa's eyes widened, the defiance cracking. "What are you saying?"

"I'm saying I'm done," Charlotte replied, the words tasting bitter on her tongue. "I'm done with your hot and cold games, with the silent treatments, with the way you make me feel like I'm walking on eggshells."

Engfa stepped forward, her gaze searching Charlotte's face. "But I love you," she whispered, her voice thick with emotion. "You're the only one who gets me."

Charlotte scoffed, a humorless sound that echoed in the empty cafe. "Get you? I feel like I'm chasing a ghost, Engfa. One minute you're smothering me, the next you're a million miles away."

Engfa reached out, but Charlotte flinched back. "Don't," she said, the word a wall between them. "This, all of this, it's exhausting. I can't live like this anymore, Engfa. It's killing me. It's tearing me apart. Love isn't making someone question whether you care or not."

Engfa's shoulders slumped, her defiance evaporating like mist in the morning sun. "I know that I'm hard to love," she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. "Some days I'm all smiles and affection and then other days, there's nothing I want more than to be quiet and lie in bed alone." She smiled weakly, looking down at the floor.

"Sometimes I get angry about stupid things and won't want to talk to you. Other days I'll think that you're the most perfect person in the world. Look, what I'm trying to say is....Please don't give up on me. I know it's not easy but I'll always come back to you Charlotte."

Charlotte's heart ached. Engfa, her enigmatic, captivating Engfa, finally revealing the darkness that haunted her. But the revelation, while offering a glimpse of vulnerability, didn't erase the pain of the emotional whiplash she'd endured.

"That's not enough, Engfa," she said, voice firm but sad. "Love shouldn't be this exhausting. It shouldn't feel like walking on eggshells, waiting for the next fight."

Engfa walked over, her bare feet padding softly on the floor. She knelt in front of Charlotte, her eyes filled with a raw desperation. "I know," she whispered, tears tracing tracks down her cheeks. "I know I'm a mess. But I love you, Charlotte. More than I've ever loved anyone. I just..." she paused, searching for the right words, "I just don't know how to love. No one taught me."

Charlotte's heart tugged. The vulnerability in Engfa's voice, the rawness of her confession, was a stark contrast to her usual enigmatic facade. But was it enough? Could love truly thrive in the shadow of such emotional volatility?

"Engfa," Charlotte said, her voice softer now, "I'm not saying I don't love you. I do. But I can't keep doing this. I need someone who can meet me halfway, someone who doesn't make me feel like a hurricane chaser."

Engfa's hand reached out, her fingers tracing gentle circles on Charlotte's knee. "But I can change," she pleaded. "I can try. I'll go to therapy, I'll do whatever it takes. Just please, don't give up on me. I know it's not easy but I'll always come back to you Char."

Charlotte looked into Engfa's eyes, searching for the truth behind the words. Was this a genuine plea for a chance to heal, or just another manipulation to keep her trapped in the storm?

The answer, she knew, wouldn't come easy. It would require patience, understanding, and a willingness to walk through the storm together. But for the first time, Engfa hadn't run, hadn't retreated into her shell. She had faced her own darkness, and in that vulnerability, Charlotte saw a flicker of hope.

And so, Charlotte made a choice. Not a promise, but a hesitant step forward. "Alright," she said, her voice trembling slightly. "We'll try. But if nothing changes, Engfa..."

"I'll be better," Engfa cut in, her eyes filled with a newfound determination. "For you."

Charlotte met Engfa's gaze, the storm in her eyes replaced by a tentative hope. "Okay," she said, her voice barely a whisper. "But Engfa, this time, don't just come back. Show me you're staying."

A fragile smile bloomed on Engfa's face, as beautiful and uncertain as the dawn after a long night. In that moment, Charlotte knew their journey was far from over, but for the first time, they weren't merely adrift in the storm. They were facing it together, hand in trembling hand, hoping to find a haven amidst the chaos.