Sincerely, Aurora [completed]

~Three~

Jude Christopher Brahm,

It's been a difficult day.

That's all I'm going to say about it for your sake, but I spent the entire day wishing I could come home to you. I missed you, Jude. I miss you.

But you're here, and you're breathing, and you're a hand to hold. Your bed is for me to hide in with you. For now, at least.

Can I just hide from the world with you for forever?

~ ~ ~

We had been in a state of official, 'mutual like' for almost two months.

Mom was starting to get skeptical of the fact that anything would come of it. She didn't ever say so, but I could see it in the way she smiled at you every time you came over, hanging over her head like a cloud of, 'Kiss already.'

I could hear it in her voice, too. Or the lack thereof. Her silence implied that she didn't want to chat, which in turn implied that she wanted us to go off by ourselves.

I was onto my mother.

You were as clueless as a newborn.

"She's playing matchmaker," I said one afternoon. You were on break and we were hiding in the storage rooms of the store, just talking. I was sharing my theories of conspiracy with you. (You were probably hoping that no one would come back there and find us.)

You were a skeptic. "She seems perfectly normal to me."

I chuckled. "You don't know Mom like I do. She's up to something. She likes you, and I think she's getting impatient."

"Impatient with what?"

I could only stare, sighing. "With you, Jude. She wants us together, and she never stops trying to get us alone. Haven't you noticed?" My words got caught up in laughter, and I covered my mouth.

You blushed. "I didn't realize that it was actually happening."

I grinned a little bit. You looked so confused as you sat there, brow furrowed, and ran both hands through your hair.

"So... your mom actually likes me that much?"

"She never stops talking about you."

The air caught between us in a curtain of quiet as you thought this over and I waited for you to speak. It gave me time to consider you, and your parents.

I had seen them a few times. Not as many times as you had met my parents, but a few times nonetheless.

The seemed to like me a lot, but the dynamic was different in the two families. Your mother was a clean-cut businesswoman, your father owned several establishments in an international restaurant chain.

My mother was a homemaker and my father pushed paper.

Your parents were nice, but they weren't casual.

I guess it bothered me a little, because I was the definition of the Brahm antonym. And I wanted to feel equal to you.

I got so lost in my consideration of your family that I barely heard you when you finally said something about mine.

"I'm glad that she likes me." You flashed a quiet, soft smile. Some hair fell into your eyes, and I reached over to brush it away. "What does your dad think of me?"

"He likes you, too. Though he isn't as talkative about it," I said, studying your face. 

You looked back at me, gray eyes wide and full of thought, the corner of your mouth drawn into a smile.