Nightlight (on hold)

Chapter Seven

Chapter Seven:

Zayn pressed his body back against mine, and grinded his hips into my own. The rough fabric of his jeans should have been rough and painful against my panty clad section, but it felt good. His fingers unclasped my bra, and suddenly that was off. I wanted to rip off his clothes, too, but I wanted to make sure he was doing what he wanted. He liked having control. I didn’t want to ruin it.

I had yearned for his touch for too long to spoil it now.

But luckily, I didn’t have to wait. Zayn briefly let go of me so he could slide his shirt over his head. We were both completely topless and just staring into each other’s eyes.

Though I did get a good chance to check him out.

Zayn’s body always fascinated me. Is that weird? I feel like it is, but whatever, he’s my husband. It was always shocking to see what he, someone who always seemed tall and slender, was really hiding beneath his clothing. I mean, his muscles, though lanky, were thick and displayed just how much brute force he truly possessed.

And then his tattoos… They were beautifully decorative to an already perfect sculpture. I ran my fingers along the ones on his collarbones. His skin formed goose bumps at my freezing touch. Although I loved all of Zayn’s tattoos, my favorite was no doubt the one on his chest.

My name.

He had it written in cursive, over his heart, so everyone would know who it belonged to.

For a guy who wasn’t a fan of romantic gestures, he was pretty damn sweet.

I remembered back to when he had first gotten the tattoo. Back when things were good. I was at home, like always, with Eleanor talking about baby names. He just waltzed in, completely shirtless and waited for me to notice the addition to his collection.

Of course, I only noticed it in the middle of chastising him on presenting himself without a shirt in front of poor Eleanor.

Our lips were reconnected, thank fucking god.

In the few moments where they weren’t together, I was almost in physical pain. I know that in every book, every movie, love is described as a drug, but that’s because it’s true. It’s such a cliché and it’s so overused because once you find that one person who means more than the world, you cannot physically be without them.

Zayn’s tongue swept over my own and his body pushed into me even more. I let out a small giggle when his hands squeezed my waist, but he didn’t stop there. While one hand held me in place beneath him, the other travelled down to my backside and grabbed my ass. I squealed into our kiss which only made him smile. Because of our state of bliss, our kiss wasn’t really a kiss anymore. We kind of just had our mouths pressed together.

I wanted us to go further. Suddenly, our chests touching and our limbs entangled and our lips joined wasn’t enough. I needed to feel him. I needed to be his in every way possible. I hooked my finger in the belt loops of his jeans and started to tug. I knew I wouldn’t be able to get them down alone, but at least I’d give Zayn the hint.

But he pulled away from me.

“We can’t.” He said, his voice gruff from all of our contact. I felt hurt, to say the least. But I should’ve expected it. Why would Zayn want to touch me?

“Yeah, of course not.” I shook my head. Why was I being so dumb? I should’ve known. I pushed Zayn away from me so I could slide out from under him.

I felt so mortified and I couldn’t help but turn beet red. Rejection was never fun, but he’s my husband. I shouldn’t have to be rejected by him. I felt the need to cover up, as I was suddenly aware how I was practically bare in front of him. With one hand over my breasts, I reached for my top.

But Zayn’s hand grabbed my wrist tightly.

“What are you doing?” He demanded, his voice still hoarse. It must have taken a lot for him to reject me. I mean, I could practically see his boner, even through his jeans. So I knew he was at least turned on.

But was I so repulsive that we couldn’t go all the way?

Yes, of course I am.

“I-it’s fine. I get it.” I ripped my hand away from him so I could slide my shirt over my head. I’d find my bra later, I just needed to get out of there.

“Darlin’, I want to. I really do, but-”

“Don’t you dare lie to me, Zayn,” I snarled, “we have our problems, but always be honest with me.” And with that I clambered off the bed and fled from the room. I heard his shouts for me as I raced through the hallways.

“Hannah!”

“Let me explain!”

“Darlin’, get back here!”

“HANNAH!” I reached the door I was looking for, but it was locked. I pulled on it hopelessly, but it never unlocked. That fucker locked it, didn’t he? I remembered that he did, but I still didn’t stop trying.

And I couldn’t help from crying.

“Hannah!” Zayn’s voice was right there, and I could see him jogging up to me from the corner of my eye. “Stop.” He hooked his arms around my waist and tried to pull me away from the door, but I fought with him violently.

“No! You have to- I have to- let me!” I clawed at his hands and kicked at his legs, but it didn’t stop him from dragging me back down the hall and into our bedroom. He kicked the door shut behind us and tossed me lightly onto the bed.

I quickly scrambled off the bed and made another beeline for the door, but he intercepted me.

“THAT’S ENOUGH!” He bellowed, holding me as still as possible.

“Why won’t you let me in there?! It’s the only place I have! Let me have it! PLEASE!” I cried out. I wanted so bad to just hit him or something. He didn’t understand, I thought he did, but he didn’t.

The whole house was so big and empty and lonely, but he felt comfortable in it. He fit in its grandeur and class, but I didn’t belong. I was the wrong one out. I wasn’t meant for a house like that.

But I did feel better in the nursery. And he took it all away.

“You know I’m doing what’s best for you! Why do I always have to be the bad guy?” He sat me down on the bed and then crouched down so we could stare eye to eye.

“You’re not the bad guy.” I whispered.

“Yes I am, I have to be the one to bring you down, I’m the one who starts our fights, I’m the one who used to beat you, I put you in danger, I have to deny the sex,” he shook his head and broke our eye contact briefly, “and that’s ok. I know I have to be the bad guy to keep you safe, but you need to know that if we… if we have sex and if we… if we lose another baby, I won’t be able to be the strong one again. I barely held it together last time and I can’t take that chance again. So Darlin’, I love you. Ok? Don’t ever forget that.”

By that time, we were both crying. Well, I was sobbing, but I saw a tear or two roll down Zayn’s cheek.

But he was right.

He was the strong one. He was always the strong one. And it wasn’t fair of me to put that all on him.

So I reached out for him. I grabbed his broad shoulders and pressed him against me and just held him close. His arms wrapped around my torso and he held me to. And we stayed like that, we just held each other for a while.

And when we finally let each other go, it was only because his phone rang.

“Don’t leave me, please.” I whimpered as he answered it. But I knew that he would. He always I knew he was in a position of power, and he had to constantly work, but I never saw him anymore.

“Yeah mate, I’ll be there in a bit.” Zayn hung up and slipped his phone back into his jeans. He looked at me longingly for a moment before grabbing his t-shirt and sliding it over his styled hair. Neither of us said anything. What was there to say?

We were finally opening up, and being honest.

But of course that wouldn’t last long.

I should’ve known.

“Darlin’, I-”

“No, it’s ok. You’re needed. It’s fine.” I shrugged as I too started to redress. I wasn’t just going wait around for him naked, like a good wife. Especially if I wasn’t even going to get any fucking sex out of the deal.

“Come on, don’t be like that. You know I have to-”

“It’s fine. Really.” I waved him off, like it was no big deal. Like I didn’t feel a knife in my gut. Like I didn’t want to slit my wrists, drown myself in the bathtub, put a glock to my forehead every time he walked out of the room.

“We’ll talk about this more when I get back, ok?” He leaned forward a little, obviously expecting a kiss. I complied and gently pressed my lips to his. We both pulled away at the same time. I turned away from his gaze, and then he turned to leave.

“IF you ever get back.” I muttered under my breath bitterly.

“Excuse me?” He paused in the doorway, waiting for me to repeat myself, although he was making it extremely obvious that he knew exactly what had been said.

“N-nothing.”

“Better have been nothing.” And with that, he left. And what was I going to do until he came home, in like 14 hours?

Slit my wrists, that’s what.

I ventured down stairs of the house. My home. No, that didn’t feel right. I couldn’t call it my home. I don’t know why, but I didn’t feel like it was my home. Actually, I knew exactly why it didn’t feel like my home. It was too big, too empty, too lonely.

I felt a jolt of hunger in my stomach. I hadn’t eaten at all that day. And although I felt hungry, I had no appetite. I didn’t want to eat. I couldn’t eat.

I felt like, if I ate, I’d vomit.

I took a warm shower, even though my body had warmed up from the cold snow.

I woke up the next morning to an empty bed. In fact, his side of the bed hadn’t even been slept in. I thought the nights of sleeping alone would end, but apparently my husband never got the memo.

I smelled something delicious coming from the kitchen. Starving as I was, I allowed my nose to lead me downstairs, where I found a pretty, thin brunette using the oven.

“What’re you cooking?” I asked Eleanor between yawns. She gestured for me to sit at the kitchen counter. It was a few minutes before I decided to ask her again, as it was clear she was ignoring me. But just as I was about to, she spun around with two plates in her hands.

“Ta-da!” She sing-songed as she set one of the plates in front of me.

“Shit, this looks good.” I eyed the delicious waffles, topped with strawberries, watermelon, cantaloupe, bananas, blueberries, powdered sugar and maple syrup. It was practically irresistible.

But somehow I was able to.

“I hope it tastes good, too.” Eleanor slid in next to me. I offered her a timid smile before pushing the plate back just a little.

“It probably does, but I’m not hungry.” Her shoulders hunched over a little, and I instantly felt bad for hurting her feelings. “But… it looks so good. Can I pop it in the fridge and heat it up when I get hungry later?” I tried to appease her, even if I knew that I wouldn’t be getting hungry later.

“Yeah, sure. Later.”