Refound Love (YTSTMB sequel)

Part eighteen

Chris P.O.V.

Manipulative. 

It's a bit of a strong word, isn't it? It usually describes someone in a negative way, in how they use their charm against you to twist and change your thoughts and/or actions into something they want. 

The thought of the act worried me. Manipulation. It just didn't seem right, putting people under pressure so you could change their way of thinking. You see it on TV a lot and how the character that's being persuaded fix their stare on the floor, taking in what they're hearing. 

I didn't ever want to fall into that kind of situation. I didn't like doubting myself when I was being told that something I thought was wrong without any kind of proof. 

I suppose I considered myself lucky when I thought about how many particularly persuasive people I had met. I could count them all on one hand. I usually stayed away from these people when I had figured out that side of them, but there was just one person that I could never detach myself from. 

PJ. 

PJ had a small manipulative side to him. He hadn't really used it, as far as I was aware, but I knew he had it from the way he spun lies around people. It was amazing, really, to see someone work their secret, if slightly dark part of their personality. 

I turned to watch him sleep for a couple of minutes. Laid out on his back with an arm across his stomach, I saw the rise and falls of his chest and I could hear his slow, drawn-out breaths. A smug smile tugged up at his lips ever so slightly and I wondered what he was dreaming about and what his once-tortured mind thought about during the day.

He looked peaceful. Content. Satisfied.

My hand reached out to the side of his nose and trailed up his cheekbone then down the side of his face to his jawline then dropped down to neck where I could feel his pulse, his heart pumping the blood around his body, keeping him alive. But who was it beating for? Who did he love?

Earlier he said he loved me, but I couldn't believe it. Before I had loved hearing the words, especially from him, but now they hurt and reminded me of my suspicions and it seemed like an easy, well-practised lie. 


I flinched at the sound of closing, making all the walls and the floor shake.

"Chris? What are you doing on the floor?" 

I sensed someone kneeling on the floor in front of me, shaking me awake. 

"Whaa-? Peej?" I stirred, slowly opened my eyes to see my boyfriend staring at me a little confused with light pink brushing along his cheeks. 

"Come on, let’s get you to the sofa," he helped me up and guided me over, sitting me down then he perched on the coffee table so he was sitting opposite. I leaned forward with the intention of holding his hands so he couldn't just get up and leave again so I looked up, silently asking for permission and he nodded. 

"Don't go," I pleaded, lacing my fingers through his. "Please, I'm sorry." 

"I love you, Chris," he said, squeezing my hands. "I don't want to lose you, but the accusations have to stop," he took a deep breath. It was shaky. He was nervous. Why was he nervous? There was something wrong. "You can't just assume things like that, especially when I've hardly seen him." 

I nodded, biting down on my tongue since I didn't trust what could come out of my mouth right now. He had tried to make himself look hurt, but there was something that didn't seem right. Something wasn't fitting. Perhaps it was the way his eyes didn't match the expression and instead were cold... 

"Okay," I replied simply. "I'm sorry," and even though I wanted to fight back, I felt defeated.


I reached for my phone under the pillow to look at the time. Almost 6am. PJ had gone to bed before me around midnight but when I came in the room an hour later, he was already sleeping. I felt slightly drowsy but hadn't slept and stayed awake without meaning to, and had watched the sunrise curled up, watching it through the window. 

I got out of bed, tucked PJ back in and then kissed him on the forehead and headed to the kitchen. I made a cup of tea and ate a small bowl of cereal while the kettle boiled and then sipped my tea as I got ready. 

Dressed in a loose t-shirt, shorts, an unzipped, thin hoodie that was rolled up to the sleeves and my running shoes, I scribbled down a note down to say I had gone out for a run and left it somewhere PJ would see in the unlikely event that he would wake up before I got back. 

Putting my earphones in and playing one of my more up-beat playlists, I left our flat after doing some stretches so I wouldn't pull a muscle and went down the stairs to the ground floor instead of taking the lift, feeling positive about my much-needed workout. 

I started off with a slow jog to warm up, my pulse quickening and warmth in my body beginning to break out even though it was fairly cool outside. It was times like these where I wished I lived on the coast - running on the promenade, breathing in sea air that made you feel tired.

I was only living in London because it seemed to be the only place where it was all happening. Coming from a sleepy northern town meant everywhere else looked alive to me, but there was something special about the capital. There were always people with things to do and people to see and places to be, it never stopped. But at the same, seeing it all could make you feel lonely and disconnected from the world, especially when I lived back home, I knew the majority of the people that lived there and no one was ever in a rush. 

I picked up my pace, internally sighing when my thoughts strayed to PJ. He had broken my heart hundreds of times before I had confessed my feelings, but he had mended it as if it had never experienced pain on that day he completely caught me off guard by kissing me while he was still hurting over Dan. I couldn't understand how quickly he got over him but I never questioned it because we made each other happy, PJ had gotten over his heartbreak and I had gotten what I wanted. 

I love you, Chris. 

The words rung through my head like when music was too loud and I wanted to break them down, analyse it all and come to come to some kind of conclusion. 

Conclusion of what exactly, though? Whether he meant it or not? There was a nagging voice in the back of my head that was telling me it was all lies, he had never loved me and he had just used me. 

I ignored the aching in my chest and tried to brush it off, he wouldn't do that, would he? Everything he had said before sounded so meaningful, not to mention real. But there something missing in his shallow voice when he spoke, there was something missing in his empty eyes. I had noticed how cautious he was when he handled me to help me get up. 

He knew that I had believed him even though I was wary, but what he didn't know was that when I hugged him from behind before he went to bed that I could smell a tiny hint of someone else's aftershave.