If I Stay✔️

40

"I won't," I told him, hoping and praying that I could keep my word. Shivering slightly- which was strange, because I was warm, so warm, my own arms tightened around him as I buried my face in his raven curls, inhaling his sweet strawberry scented shampoo. "I'm sorry, Emmy, I'm so sorry."

He pulled back, his hands cupping my cheeks, his face millimetres from mine as he stared at me unblinking, grey eyes filled with so much love and not-so-subtle hints of heartbreak. "No, amore, I'm sorry. I knew something wasn't right, I shouldn't have let you leave that night. I just wish you could've opened up to me, Le. I wish you could've told me how you'd been feeling. I would've done anything to help you, to save you from yourself."

I wanted to, I tried to, so many times.

His words were so genuine, his eyes holding nothing but truth. Grey flickered from blue to pink as he stole a glance at my mouth. I stared at him, unsure and a little unsteady, I don't want to disappoint you.

"Em..."

"Can I kiss you?" He said, repeating those same words I'd spoken to him only twice before.

Please, "I don't know." I whispered, my own eyes locked to his mouth, you deserve so much more than me. "I can't give you what you want, Em. I can't give you what you deserve." I told him, my words laced with honesty whilst my lids met my waterline tightly.

"Stop, look at me." He commanded, placing his hand against my mouth, palm flat, silencing anything I had to say. His eyes bore into mine as I hesitantly cracked them open, he smiled at me, a mixture of sad and sweet.

"Don't belittle me by telling me what I want, Leo. And don't tell me what you think I deserve. I want you, it's always been you, it will always be you. What makes you think you're so undeserving of me? You've been my best friend our whole lives, amore, I know you, I love you for who you are, and I'll take it all, the good with the bad."

But what if there's more bad than good?

I unlatched my arm from his waist, pulling his hand from my mouth before interwinding my fingers with his, "I can't be affectionate with you, I can't hug you for too long without it feeling suffocating, I can't—"

"I don't care!" He yelled, bringing his free hand to caress my cheek, his eyes filled with desperation as he plead with me to just let him in. Pressing his forehead to mine, our eyes maintained that tension filled contact as his voice dropped lower, filled with so much emotion and pain that I could've cried.

"I don't care, Leo. I don't care about touch, I don't care about affection, I don't care if the only intimacy we have is holding hands or soft kisses. It's enough, you are enough. I want you, only you. And I'll wait forever and a day if a part of you wants me to. If some small part of you feels the same, then, please, fucking please just let me love you." 

I'll always want you.

But we can't.

Shaking my head, I pull myself from his touch, "I can't do this, Emmy."

Some days, when I want to try and put the pieces back together and find out who I am again, who I used to be. I think of the day I found him: Emilio. He's my solace, my light in the darkness, the colour when I'm lost in the endless shades of grey. He's my safety, my sanctuary.