Golden Hour (GarouxReader lemon)

Part 12

"Uncle," Tareo says as he sits on the living room floor the next evening. Kid's been looking dazed and confused ever since he came inside. He's got the mouse on the string but he's not really paying attention and the cat grabs it and goes full throttle, strangling and biting and ripping into it, having the time of her life.
You know, maybe we are more alike than I thought. This really is my cat.
"What?" I say from my usual place on the couch as I watch the sun begin to go down. It still disappears early enough but not as early as when we first made each other's acquaintance, me and her. I'd let the memories of the last months get the better of me if I was alone, thinking of her and all those times...
The tree outside is starting to block the light, the new leaves appearing every day.
"Uncle," he says again, as if completely forgetting he'd just said that.
"What?" I repeat. I'm getting used to this kid. My patience ain't wearin' so thin anymore. I could do this all day.
He's a good kid. I ain't got nothing against him.
"I went to her house," he says, almost whispering, in awe, as if still not believing this good fortune actually happened to him.
"Oh yeah?" I can't help but grin. I'm happy for him. At least one of us is gettin' somewhere.
I frown for a moment, remembering my own fucking lost opportunity. So close. So fucking close.
I've been replaying that moment in my goddamn head since yesterday. Over and fucking over. Part of me is sure it would've all gone how I wanted it to. That it would be the start of something...good. But then another part of me doubts. What if she'd turned around and gave me a good fucking slap? I can't discount that either. I was ready to take some very big liberties and I wouldn't fuckin' blame her. But nothing ventured, nothing gained, eh?
Anyway, back to the kid.
"How was it?" I say.
"Her house is nice," he says. "We played board games."
"Board games, eh?" I say, now there's a thought. I start thinking board games but then all my dirty little mind goes to is strip poker and then that image of her see-through shirt yesterday...and fucking heaven help me. No. Snap the fuck out. Back to this kid.
"Did you let her win?" I ask.
"No," he shakes his head seriously. "She's really good."
Yeah. That's the way. You don't let people win if you respect them. I'd fucking hate that.
I'm about to ask somethin' else, I don't remember what, when he just keeps going with growing exciting momentum now.
"And then her brother came and played too and it was really fun! He's so cool! He's the captain of the baseball team! And then we went to the park and he got us some candy and..."
And I ain't listening anymore. I'm fucking scowling, deep and mad. This fucking asshole again. Him and his fucking hair, and his fucking face, and-
"Uncle, someone's here!" Tareo says as the front door opens.
"Oh!" She breaks into an even bigger smile as she sees Tareo. "Hello!" She says as I quickly get up. "I just wanted to bring this back," she says, turning to me now, still with that bright smile, holding out my PE uniform, all washed and dry and folded neatly and smellin' so good. She shouldn'tve bothered. Ain't like I'll be ever using it again. I told her not to bother but she wouldn't listen and just took it home with her anyway.
"Hey Delilah," she says, getting down on the floor with Tareo, petting the cat while she purrs and meows. "You're looking so good now!"
"She's getting bigger!" Tareo says, his exciting story momentarily forgotten. Good. Because I don't want to hear another fuckin' thing about that baseball son of a bitch.
"Yes, she is," she agrees, nodding. "She's getting big and strong, because Garou takes such good care of her," she says and looks up at me.
I feel...fuck. Why does she have to say things like that? It ain't like I fuss over the cat or anything. I just feed it twice a day and...fuck. I'm just gonna go put this back in my room.

I head upstairs without replying. What is there to say? But the way she looks at me, like she knows she's right, like she can see right through me...
Well, I have been trying to be good lately. Or a bit less fuckin' bad I guess. I haven't gone out skulking around at night nearly as much these last few weeks. I'm trying my best, I fuckin' swear. Only when I really, really fuckin' need it. And after last night, I feel like I'm really, really, really going to fucking need it tonight. This frustration is turning into a fucking monster that I can barely control anymore.