Brenton Thwaites Imagines

My Comforter

I hung up the phone and tossed it on the couch. The sob that I had been holding back for what felt like ages finally came out. I leaned against the closet, trying to be strong but failed. Loosing my strength, I slide down the door, pulled my knees into my chest and cried.

I didn't hear the sound of keys jingling so I wasn't expecting the door to open. "I'm home...." He paused when he saw me on the floor. He rushed and knelt in front of me.

"What's wrong baby?" He gently lifted my head to look at him. He looked at my phone that had fallen off the couch after I threw it. "Your dad?" He asked softly. I nodded. He pulled me into his lap and rubbed circles on my back. "Do you wanna talk about it?" He whispered into my ear.

"Nothing different." I said between gasps. "Just called to say he misses me and I need to get a life and that I need to be the 'right' me. He pretty much said how disappointed he is in me and how I'm not even his daughter anymore." As I said the last part, I started to cry again.

He gently hugged me and rocked back and forth. He pulled away and brushed a piece of hair out of my face. "You know he's wrong right? You are amazing. If he isn't proud of you, he's crazy. You are perfect to me. You're my girl. And that's all that matters." He then pulled me in and kissed me. It started off as a soft kiss but got more intense. We pulled away breathless.

"I'll be right back." He says breathlessly. He picked me up and put me on the couch before jogging to his rooms.

I sat on the couch with my legs crisscrossed and patiently waited for Brenton to come back. I leaned down and picked up my phone. When I unlocked it, there was a message from my mom. I sighed before opening it.

Mom ❤️
Hey sweetie, I know things are tough between you and your dad. Maybe you should take a break from writing school and come home. I know you love writing but it would be better if you came home and worked things out with your father. I love you!

I couldn't help but scoff as I read the last line. I rolled my eyes as I locked my phone not even bothering to respond. I ran my hands through my hair in frustration. Suddenly, I heard the strumming of guitar. I chuckled as I saw Brenton walk into the room trying to play the chords of Don't Worry, Be Happy with a Jamaican hat and fake dreadlocks. As he started to sing, he sang in a terrible Jamaican accent.

Here's a little song I wrote
You might want to sing it note for note
Don't worry, be happy

Every life we have some trouble
When you worry you make it double
Don't worry, be happy

He almost tripped on the carpet causing me to cover my mouth, trying very hard not to laugh. He continued anyway.

Don't worry, be happy

Ain't go no place to lay your head
Somebody came and took your bed
Don't worry, be happy

The landlord say your rent is late
He may have to litigate

He walked over to me and made me stand up. He stopped trying to strum and started to slow dance with me.

Don't worry, be happy
Look at me, I'm happy
Don't worry, be happy
I give you my phone number
When you worried, call me
I make you happy
Don't worry, be happy

"I know it hasn't been easy for you. But I just want you to know how much you mean to me." He whispered with our foreheads pressed together.

I smiled as I leaned up and kissed him. "I know." He smiled as we continued to dance together to no music.