White Sheets | ✓

d u v e t

  But Allen's sad eyes were almost enough to make her crumble. Jean wanted to look away so badly, but she couldn't bring herself into doing it because of how he looked at her—as if she had his heart in her hands and he was getting ready for her to squeeze it so tight, that he would pass out from the intense pain he was going to feel.

  His cautious brown eyes continued to look down on her smoldering hazel orbs even though he was already anticipating the worst scenario possible. Although he looked ready to face his death, the affection burning in his eyes did not disappear.

  And in the next three seconds, his biggest fear, that one moment he had wished that would not happen in the near future, finally began to unravel itself before his very eyes. Jean lifted herself up from his bed, wrapped the duvet around her body and began walking away from him.

  It took him exactly three more seconds to snap out of whatever trance he was in from the shock of it all.

  He was actually expecting her to scream bloody murder and run away from him forever, never coming back. But instead, he saw her in his kitchen, her naked body wrapped in his white duvet, her skin luminescent under the moonlight that slightly peeked from the window.

  At first, he didn't quite understand why her shoulders were heaving, but as he looked closely at her, he finally figured it out—she was crying.

  It made his heart break for her; he never saw her like this, never saw her shed a tear even when they watched sappy romcoms with tragic endings, he never expected to see her strong and confident façade break down, much less see her cry.

  As quietly as he could, he took two steps forward, hoping to at least comfort her and take back every stupid word that slipped out of his mouth.

  And that meant he needed to take back those three words that had complicated everything. Fųck.

  "Don't come near me," Jean warned, still not looking up at him, still not wanting to see how hurt and rejected Allen's handsome face was.

  It hurt her, too, knowing that Allen was an ideal guy, but her own issues held her back and kept her from investing herself, giving herself completely in whatever gray area they were in.

  "Jean—"

  "I said, don't come near me!" Jean screeched and squeezed her eyes shut. She breathed deeply, counting from one to ten twice in her head to make sure she already calmed down.

  Meanwhile, as Jean calmed herself down, Allen was still goddămmed scared of whatever shït was happening between them. In his head, he blamed himself repeatedly and kicked himself in the balls really bad.

  "Jean, I—I'm sorry," he sputtered, unable to hold back his emotions. He knew that he was drunk, but he refused to be hindered by his hazy thoughts and clouded vision; this confrontation was going to happen and he wanted to remember everything from this night, even if he somehow felt that this wasn't going to end up in a good way.

  "I'm not sure why you're reacting this way, but—" Allen stopped for a quick second to collect his thoughts and take a breath, since he was already nervous as hell and he didn't know how the fúck she was going to respond to his confession.

  He counted to three before he continued. "—trust me when I say this: every single word I've said to you back at the bedroom, I meant it, I meant all of it." He paused for a moment and then he finally said, "I love you, Jean."

  Allen was both surprised and horrified at the turn of events. Before he said those three words again, he told himself that he was going to take it back and apologize profusely to her, he was even planning on getting down on his knees for her forgiveness. But instead, he told her he loved her for the nth time already.

  Jesus. He fûcked up even more.

  A few seconds passed again, and he was still standing there, staring at her vulnerable form, shoulders heaving and muffled sobs echoing in his kitchen. He was frozen on the spot, his eyes never leaving the crying girl in front of him.

  He badly wanted to take one long stride, close the painful space between them, and wrap his arms around her in a tight embrace, soothing her and telling her that everything will be alright, that both of them will be alright no matter what.

  But he couldn't.

  Because he knew that she would hate him even more than she already had. And it hurt him so badly, so deeply, that he couldn't stop his tears from spilling from his own eyes.

  His eyes burned, his chest tightened, his teeth chattered, his lips trembled—Allen had never felt so helpless in his entire life up until now.

  He didn't know what to say or what to do anymore.