Brielle

thirty-eight

BRIELLE

Grayson has tried to get me up four times this morning, but each time I've brushed him away, trying not to break my heart even more by just looking at him.

I can tell he's disappointed, but he doesn't show it as he sits on the edge of the bed. Looking at me, and occasionally rubbing his hands up and down my thighs.

Not sexually, but trying to help me as I cry.

"Do you want to talk about it?" I know he doesn't like seeing me upset, he made that clear all night, and now this morning as he stares at me with hurt in his eyes.

But he isn't hurt about me not wanting to do whatever he had planned, he's hurt because I'm upset and won't tell him why. I think he feels helpless in some ways, I would too.

I shake my head, "Just leave me alone, please Grayson."

He winces at the sound of his full name, something I haven't used in a very long time. Not to him personally, maybe in my head.

"No baby," He wipes a hand over his face and groans, "I'm not leaving you alone, not when you're like this."

This time I groan, hitting my head in the pillow as I muster up the courage to do something I've been putting off since last night.

Something I never would have wanted to do, ever.

Standing up, I walk to the bathroom, wiping my eyes and letting the adrenaline take over. I feel like I'm letting him down, I've given him so much love over the past few months, but now I have to let it go.

His heavy footsteps follow after me as I walk further into the bathroom, along with his un-even breathing that sounds as though he's panicking.

"You just don't get it do you?" I snap, trying my hardest to sound angry, but every word that leaves my mouth is a lie, and I wish nothing more than to say it.

Gray's eyebrows furrow as he stares at me, an expression I've only ever seen a few times on his face. Hurt, as though he's in pain.

"Get what?" His voice is softer that ever before, as though he's trying his hardest to make his voice different, and not harsh.

He sounds scared in some ways, and it tears my heart into two.

I take a deep breath, wondering how to say this without messing up and breaking down in front of him. But there's no normal way to say this.

"We can't do this," I barely mutter above a whisper, not looking at his expression because I know if I do it'll be like getting a knife to the gut and having it spun round a million times.

I can see his body freeze from beside me as he takes strides closer to me, his breathing becoming faster with each step.

"We can't do what?" He asks, his tone more harsh, but I don't look at him. Because if I do, I'd see the ocean of emotions hiding in his eyes, telling a story I don't want to know.

"This."

I point a finger between the two of us, and his eyes flick to it in the mirror. But then he makes a small noise from the back of his throat.