The floor was clean. It's white tile, cold white tile of the spacious bathroom. I lay there, unable to stop my thoughts.
It feels like instinct with him. I hate it. Like, I look forward to seeing him all day. It's disgusting. I am disgusted by myself.
Disgusted by how my heart races a little faster when I get a notification from him, disgusted by how much I care about him, disgusted that I don't hate him as much as I should.
And most of all. I'm disgusted that I so hopelessly want to be his friend.
I don't want him to leave again.
This is self sabotage because you're scared he's going to leave.
Fuck.
***
"I'm definitely not happy not even close to it, but for the first time, this is the farthest I am from being sad." He said to be so hopeless.
I turn to him and slowly stroke the side of his cheek with my thumb, softly and gently, opposite to what he's probably used to.
I wanted to show him that not all physical touch is bad or abusive. And it doesn't always have to be sexual.
He's physically melting to my touch.
I want him to feel the impact of gentle touches, soft, caring, I want him to know what it feels like to be cared about.
I look up into his eyes only to find him staring at my face, puzzled, trying to figure out what my aim is.
I pause, looking into his eyes intently, making sure he's aware and listening.
"I'm so proud of you." I genuinely say, not having a hint of fake ness, truly meaning it.
Because I do, and I don't think he hears it as often as he should be.
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Teen wolf imagines:)
FanfictionDylan O'brien and his characters, Tyler Posey and more!