How too love again?

Chapter 13

"Shehnaaz."

The way she looks up at him, only pushes him forward and his lips are on hers before he has a chance to control himself or think about the consequences. He knows she’s better, that the wound is sealing up but he’s still mindful of it, even in this haze he’s found himself in. So he’s gentle, kissing her as if that could somehow fix everything.

“Sidharthh..” She breathes out as his lips travel down to her neck. God, this is so wrong. This is so unbelievably wrong. He shouldn’t be doing this. But he feels like his skin his on fire, he’s felt like his skin has been on fire for weeks. Being so close to her again was like being in the past yet nothing like the past. It was memories of touching her, of her hands on him. It didn’t help that he was the one helping her bathe. Obviously none of that was supposed to be remotely sexual but his brain was failing him. Half of him feels like he’s taking advantage of her, but the other half feels like maybe this was the tipping point for both of them and they desperately needed to get it out of their system.

He finds that everything they do is etched with remnants of the past. The way her fingers grab onto his hair, the way he knows the sweet spot on her neck and the way his body knows that it’s her. It’s never like this with anyone else, it could never be in any space or time. The feeling that bloomed in his chest couldn’t possibly compare to anything else. Being with her felt like home, like a puzzle piece seamlessly fitting in, belonging there.

It’s a dance they know perfectly. Perfectly in sync, no words needed as he listens to the hitches in her breath, the look in her eyes, as he presses kisses to her body, lips lingering on the bandage on her chest, beneath it would soon be a scar she’d probably have for a long time, if not forever. So he takes extra notice, extra care, looking up at her as if telling her again, because he’ll never tire of saying it, that he’s glad she’s alive, he’s glad her heart is beating beneath his lips.

When he finally sinks into her, he doesn’t take his eyes off her, finding their rhythm again. But he knows there’s a difference. He feels it as her eyes close. It’s different because he knows she’s holding back, knows he’s holding back. Before, he would pour all his love into her. Now, there’s everything else between them, the past, the hurt, the little cracks in the armor they built for themselves and it feels a little like torture to feel so much relief.

He wants to smile, but there’s a lump in his throat as her eyes roll to the back. He leans down to press his lips to hers, just as her fingers dig into his back. 

Both of them breathing heavily, he collapses on top of her for a second and then pushes himself off to lie beside her. They’re both silent, looking up at the ceiling.

He stares at the door, feeling like he doesn’t really know what that means. Not even knowing what he wants this to mean, but knowing that if it was difficult to keep his mind off her before, now it would be impossible.

•

Standing in front of the mirror, looking at herself, her image almost like a distant memory, she cries. It’s supposed to be everything she wanted. His lips on hers again, his body against hers. Instead, as soon as it ended, her chest felt empty. She feels like she can’t recognise herself, the inevitability of them, of him, makes it all so much harder. Harder to let go of this. And still, she knows she’ll go back. Knows that he could snap his fingers and she’d be there.

And fuck, that feels worse than anything. Her inability to say no to him, even in detriment to her own feelings. Her permanent fear of losing him is too much to bear, the thought of being alone again with no one who understands her, frightens her to the very core. Loneliness has been the constant in her life for the past 4 years, if there’s anything she’s known well is being alone. She’s done alone and she doesn’t want to anymore. Loneliness sometimes clings to you and you want to cling to it, because before you take note of what happens, loneliness becomes apart of your identity. And losing parts of yourself terrifies you because when you do, you’re bare again and you have to go in search of what you are. Loneliness doesn’t leave, maybe that’s a comfort everyone has. Maybe loneliness can become your everything too.

What happens if she says no, if she tells him she loves him, what if he calls and she’s not there? She loves him, she knows him, knows he cares about her, that he’s taking care of her, but even with his kindness, with the goodness she knows is in his heart, caring for her isn’t loving her, it isn’t what their love was. The past isn’t the present. And feelings change. He’s been with other people. Maybe he’s figured out that there’s someone better out there.

She knows immediately the answer her mind supplies, because if there’s a chance he loves her still or has fallen again, then she’ll be whatever he wants her to be.

•

It’s how it starts.

A new need for each other that only stops when they’re in bed. Perhaps it never stops. It’s an endless loop.

With her wound getting better, closed up but only sore now, no stitches, all that’s left for them to awkwardly move around is her broken arm. But nothing stops them, it feels impossible to stop anything now between them. Shehnaaz’s in his house, she’s in his head, she’s everywhere and it doesn’t help.

But they never talk about it. Truly, all they’re doing is living in a bubble. They don’t discuss the fact that it’s happening at all, in fact, they pretend it isn’t when they’re not kissing or touching.

He can't take it anymore. He can't stand the fact that he loves her so much and he's unable too tell her. He has to gather his strength and all his power to make sure she knows how much he loves her. When he was with Shehnaaz, his body was content. Whatever the fuck was between them, that shit was soul deep. Shehnaaz is in his blood, and he wasn’t sure he could live without her.

It's gonna end in 1 or 2 parts 🥺🥺
What's going too happen next?
Will he confess his love or not?