Love, Sex, & Foreplay

Chapter Three: Making Love

A/N Okay, so ignore the part in chapter 2 where Damien said when he retired. This is how it should’ve been. I miscalculated. I don’t you’ll remember but incase you do just ignore it.

True

            Damien had a nightmare. He hadn’t had one in over a year and it happened right after he quit for good. Even though we have only been living together for six months and a few days I knew. I knew the same way I knew he dropped his body wash in the bathroom and spilled most of it when he tried to catch it and squeezed it. When he had stubbed his toe on the foot of his coffee table and donated it the next day with a lot of resentment for the thing. When he burnt himself frying eggs because he forgot to use butter instead of oil. When a female driver cut him off and he thought it was a man so he had some very colorful words for her and felt bad about it later. When he felt sad. When he felt happy. I knew because Damien had never kept a single thing from me.

            He said I was his savior because I loved him even when he left and asked me to move on. Those were difficult times but whenever he left I always waited for him. And when he came back realized that I waited every single time and I loved him more every single time, he held on to me for hours and he would never let me go, not even to kiss me. I love that man, oh God, so much.

            My friends all thought I was an idiot to have been so stupidly head over heels for someone who was a property of the United States of America. I admit that it would be difficult for anyone to have understood and they had all right to. I once spent eight months without a single word from him and I hadn’t even known where he was at the time or if he was alive. It was scary and sometimes I was told that I couldn’t keep doing that to myself. But what was I supposed to do? I didn’t want anybody else and I still don’t. I couldn’t in a million years love anybody half as much as I love him. Damien himself was one of the people who pushed me to leave him. The last night we spent together before he came home to me for good we had that conversation again. I knew he thought we were over that night.

            “You don’t deserve this,” he had said. “I need you to let me go and I need you to move on.”

            I hadn’t said anything. Damien was a stubborn man and sometimes it was best to show him. I slept in his arm and I kissed him before he left that day. I hadn’t received any letters from him and I hadn’t sent him any either but when he came home, there I was again, waiting for him. I got us an apartment knowing I would’ve been there by myself; I filled it with pictures of us, and things that we both liked. We never had a lot of time to spend together and explore things but we had a lot of time to talk. That man never bought up the conversation of us splitting up again. We made love for the first time that night.

            We knew each other for almost three years before I got our apartment together. Within those three years we spent a total of four months, twenty-three days, and nineteen hours together. He resigned a year later but hadn’t been completely free until yesterday, and then the nightmare.

            I fussed too much over him and that irritated him. I knew that’s what he saw coming another conversation filled with endless questions from me, which he always tried to answer but never ceased my worry. He got out of bed and when ten minutes passed and he hadn’t returned, I grabbed my tablet and went searching then booking.

            It’s difficult to be quiet on wooden floors. Damien came back to our bedroom, arms crossed over his chest, feet crossed at his ankles, looking good enough to eat.

            “Where are you going?” He asked. His tone sounded almost broken but Damien was good at grasping on to his emotions when he was scared. I guess he had a lot of practice.