My heart was racing as I sat in the swing in my front garden, checking both ways each minute. I was looking for him, having hours had passed and he was still no where to be seen and I had blinked away tears more moments than I could count and felt my heart break way more than I should. I wanted him here, I needed him here.
I needed his touch, I needed his scent, I needed his warmth; I just needed him. I had my sleeves pulled over my hands, my lip in between my teeth and my feet unable to stay still. I was nervous, I was upset, I was furious and I was also excited. An odd mix but it was everything I was feeling.
I have to say I don't look the best, a way too big sweatshirt covering my body, knee socks on, no makeup on meaning my freckles were in their most prominent state and my hair it's natural mess. This may be one of the worst states he had ever seen me in.
Another hour had come and gone by and I hadn't moved a muscle but my chest was getting tighter and tighter within each minute.
He wasn't coming.
Truth really does hurt but I don't want to believe it, I have so much faith that he will come and although it is slowly disappearing each second he isn't here, it was still there and I'm holding onto that.
It was until finally, after twenty-seven more minutes, I see a figure running up to my home and all my breath immediately gets swept away. I stand up, probably a poor decision as my knees were not in the state to hold me up right now.
I was still way too underweight, very little energy and strength proving the littlest of tasks way harder than what they should actually be. Maybe I should have worn something baggy on my bottom half to cover my legs. I know he doesn't find my weight attractive.
"Lauren." He breathes, almost in relief and his voice sounds hoarse and broken.
My eyebrows furrow as he reaches me, standing a metre in front of me and we stare at each other. He had obviously been in a fight, a bruise already forming around his eye, his lip cut as well as his cheek and there was drops of blood falling from his head.
"You look gantin." I scrunch my nose up in disgust.
"I look what?" He asks in confusion.
"Rank." I simplify, forgetting he wasn't Scottish and not many people understand the slang I use, although it's rare I do.
"Can I come in?"
"Only if you don't trek blood all over." This was a serious situation and it should be awkward between us but it wasn't. It was just like normal, we couldn't be serious with each other.
I begin to walk into my house, ready to get the first aid kit out and fix the mess called his face up but just as I turn around a hand pulling on my own pulls me into a chest and my arms instantly go around his neck as his wrap tightly around my waist and he sobs into my shoulder. I was struggling holding the both of us up, his weight being put onto me but I attempt to. I didn't know what was going on but tears of my own swelled up in my eyes, I have never seen him like this and it hurt. My hand reaches up to his hair, playing with the curls and I gently hush in his ear; trying to calm his sobs.
I softly pull his face from my neck, seeing tears pouring down his face and his eyes bloodshot.
"Brad? What's happened, gorgeous?" I ask him.
"I can't go back there." He sobs and although I have no idea what he's talking about I try and solve the situation like I've studied it for years. It killed me seeing him like this and my heart couldn't handle this.
"Then stay here, okay? Don't go back, just stay with me." He just nods and intertwines our fingers and I lead him into my house and into the bathroom, placing the backpack he had quickly in my bedroom.
He sits on the closed toilet seat as I reach inside the bathroom cabinet, my sweatshirt lifting slightly so I quickly go back down so my legs are no longer on show.
I place the first aid kit on his lap as I tie my hair up in a messy ponytail, curly tendrils falling down either side of my face. I wash my hands and look at his face, seeing the damage closer up and seeing what needs doing. I don't warn him about anything stinging, not finding it in me to be able to even attempt to use my voice. I clean each wound and place butterfly closures on the most open wound, to keep it closed so nothing gets inside it. Everything else was just good with being cleaned.
"I'm sorry, Laur." He says. "I love you." I try and keep the butterflies at bay and the very loud beating of my heart quiet and under control but quite frankly it felt like it was going to burst out of my chest. "You look beautiful."
"You need some sleep; your head must have been hit hard." I tightly smile.
"Lauren, I know what I feel." He argues and I let out a small sigh.
"Brad, this is all too confusing. Just right now, keep your feelings to yourself. I'm already fucked up; I don't need even more fucking up." I tell him.
"You aren't fucked up." He shakes his head. "You're beautiful."
"Bradley, stop it."
His hands meet my hips as he pulls me in-between his legs and looks up at me. The look he was giving me right now was about to make me go crazy.
"C'mon, you know you feel it too."
"I'm being serious now, pack the fuck in." I sternly glare at him and he slowly removes his hands from me and carefully stands up and follows me to my bedroom.
He flops down on my bed, ridding of his jeans and getting under the covers. He looks over at me, almost expectantly and I realise what he wants and I give in way too easy. I preferred hating him.
I climbed in with him, our eyes locking and I was swimming in his like a pool of chocolate. What was this boy doing to me? I would literally give anything to hate him again right now, anything for him to hate me. This was far too difficult.
He places a kiss to the corner of my mouth before cuddling into my chest, my arm was wrapped around him and playing with his hair. His hand searched for my other and gripped it tightly, it resting against my stomach.
And there I laid, with a battered and bruised boy asleep on my chest with soft snores leaving his mouth and a head full of thoughts and a heart full of feelings.
I could not, under any circumstances, fall in love with him.
