The Hawthorne Effect (BoyXBoy)

Chapter 19: Still Okay.

TW: This chapter contains scenes of sexual harassment and non-consensual actions. Please do not read if this will affect you.

Sorry for taking so long, y'all.
I blame sixth form.

//

So, as I squeeze my eyes shut and cry as quietly as I can, he rests his chin on the top of my head and whispers the same words I told him in his most vulnerable moment.

"It's okay, baby." He coos. "I got you."

//

I spend the next 10 minutes crying on him.

He doesn't move, he doesn't talk, he doesn't complain; he just stands here and rubs circles on my back.

I'm well aware of the fact like I look like an idiot, but I really couldn't stop the tears if my life depended on it.

I know after several minutes of staining his jumper with them that I need to stop. Not only is he probably finding this awkward, but also I'm getting quite light headed.

I focus my mind on the sound of his heartbeat. I tighten my arms around his body and press my ear a little closer to his chest to listen in. His heart is pumping fast, but as I calm myself down, it does so too.

I find comfort in the fact that it's the same heart that I heard when we would sleep together on the trip. I remember the mornings when I would wake up before the alarm went off and just lay there, either listening to it's beat, or to his breathing - depending on what position I found myself in.

Those were my favourite mornings.

Oh, how things have changed.

"Sorry," I tell him, my voice being muffled by his clothing. I cringe slightly at the sudden death of the silence, but welcome the soft sound of his voice when he whispers a reply.

"For what?"

"Being a mess."

He laughs softly at that. "You're always a mess."

I retract away from him to end the hug, already starting to miss the warmth of his body the second I'm not pressed against it. Despite my efforts to put some distance between us, he keeps me close by resting his hands on my waist. Our bodies aren't touching, but there's only a couple of inches in between us.

"Hey," He whispers, causing me to look up at him. "It's okay."

I want to conjure up a reply, but I find myself melting into a trance. His eyes and his touch paralyse me as I gaze up at him, searching his face for any sort of clue as to what he's feeling right now.

And I get one.

I watch hypnotically as his eyes flick down to look at my lips. I've been in this position with him enough to know what that means.

His face shows an internal conflict; as if he's weighing up the pros and the cons of kissing me right now.

He doesn't dare to look me in my eyes even as he first starts to lean in.