Fourteen Days

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hi, sorry this is a bit later than usual. I rewrote this chapter about four/five times and now my brain is mush. I wanted to get it up though, so hopefully I didn't miss much while editing. The pace/timing is a little different, so I hope it doesn't get confusing (if it does lmk and I'll rewrite it some day). love you. - deli

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You didn't see Kylo for a while after that. 


You probably should have expected it. He had shown you more of himself than you had even thought possible. You had seen his tears. You had seen genuine smiles and laughter. You had seen blindfolded, sleepy, homesick, Christmas Day, Kylo. Exposing delicate parts of himself must have scared him. Considering his usual difficulty with vulnerability, it seemed understandable. 


This time, you weren't scared. You didn't sulk. You spent all your time writing. Every hour of waiting for a text, you had your laptop in front of you and your fingers pounding at the keyboard.  You weren't nervous, because you knew. At least, you were almost certain you knew. He felt something too. He wasn't going to up and leave for a multitude of flattering reasons. You were his favorite. You apparently deserved five thousand dollars for treating him like a human. You were trusted enough to blindfold him in bed. You were special enough to be the place he sought comfort. He may have needed some time to process everything that happened, but you were confident he wasn't going to be done with you this easily. 


That didn't mean you didn't miss him. Or worry about him. Or have the urge to text him. You still thought of him, alone in his apartment, and felt your heart sink. You still wondered if he was drinking too much wine and smoking too many cigarettes. He was a grown man, and he would probably do those things in any circumstance, but you wished you could at least be there to provide him company. Even so, you knew he needed time, and you tried to respect that. 


Except on December 28th. On December 28th, you cried. It was his birthday. Kylo probably didn't care about birthdays. He probably didn't really mind whether or not his 32nd anniversary of existing passed without a cake or present, but you still spent the day with an anxious knot in your gut. Because if you had been there, you would have brought him a present, whispered 'happy birthday' while on top of him as he groaned and complained. You would have done everything you could to remind him he was just as deserving of celebration as anyone else. But you couldn't. You were home, and he was most likely at the office all day and in his dark apartment working all evening. You couldn't stop thinking about it all. You would asked him to swim in the pool even though it snowed. You would have made him take a warm bath afterwards. You would have let him tie you up. You would have been there. 


At 7 p.m. on December 28th, you had shed too many tears, and you decided to stop guessing what he needed. You would never know what he needed, but you knew what you wanted to give him. You wanted to give him space to process Christmas, and you also wanted to wish him a happy fucking birthday. So you paced around your room-- stomping over your bed, and stepping onto your desk chair, pausing to stare in the mirror at how wide and nervous your eyes were while you waited for him to answer.


The line rang. And rang. And rang. Then his voice sounded out all business like and deep before  the automated woman's voice told you to leave a message at the beep.


Then there was the beep. You were so dazed by the brief sound of his voice that it took you a few seconds to collect yourself. 

LUCKY |Modern Sugar Daddy AU|Nơi câu chuyện tồn tại. Hãy khám phá bây giờ