Her Splash of Color | ✓

✤ 1.11 two can confess ✤

Posted August 24th, 2018

✤ Rihaan: 1.11 two can confess ✤

Parking the bike in her driveway, she asks after getting off. "Are you coming in?"

"Yeah," I pull the key out of the ignition. She starts to walk away when I call her. "San?" She turns around, "The helmet."

"Oh," She smiles in embarrassment and walks back, taking it off and handing it over. She runs her fingers through her naturally wavy hair even though they settle over her shoulder on their own. When she turns to leave again, I reach for her hand to stop her. She glances back at me with a crinkle at her brows.

I lean back against the bike, "I have a confession to make."

She takes smaller steps back to stand in front of me, her eyes momentarily traveling to her hand in mines. "Okay?"

My own settle on our joined hand, thumb rubbing over the back of her palm for I couldn't look into her eyes, ashamed over my actions. "I... I couldn't handle that I hurt you."

She takes a moment to get on the same page of what I am talking about and then tries to convince me otherwise, "It wasn't your..."

I squeeze her hand to stop her, "Just let me, please?"

I need to say this to her. She understands its important to me and nods, silencing her protests.

With a deep inhale, I continue, "I know I play pranks all the time but that's just for dad. It's always been harmless. But, the fact that something really bad could have happened to you because of me... that you were injured because of me... that I could have hurt someone... you; life just got too real too soon. I'm sorry I left instead of apologizing to you then and making sure you were okay. I still don't forgive myself. I can't..."

She turns her wrist so she is holding my hand instead. It surprises me when she steps towards me and speaks, "I forgive you, Rihaan."

I open my mouth to tell her she shouldn't. It was her life.

She doesn't give me a chance as she lifts her free hand to my cheek. I close my eyes, grasping in the touch that felt so natural - as if it wasn't the first time but something she's always done. Her soft voice pierces through my guilt, her thumb rubbing back and forth over my cheekbone, "It - it wasn't your... fault. You didn't hurt me... intentionally."

Lifting my eye lids open to lock with hers, I question in defeat, "Why are you so nice?"

She smiles and attempts to lighten the moment, "Blame it on my genes."

A laugh escapes my throat along with a tear from my eyes. She shouldn't forgive me so easily. She shouldn't. I don't deserve that.

Her thumb brushes over the wet trail on my cheek before her palm slide to my chest, just over my heart. She doesn't look at me while she speaks. Her eyes remain on her hand as if looking at me would make her nervous and then she wouldn't be able to say what she wants to. Even when I wish she would look at me so I can look into her green orbs, I have to admit this is all nothing like I expected to happen. She is being a lot braver than I have ever known her to be.

For what feels the longest, she remains silent. Not that I mind. I quite like having her hand on my chest. Feeling my heart beating through her touch as it vibrates over to her fingertips. It's a whole new feeling in itself. I could stay like this with her for as long as necessary. I like having her close to me. To be able to feel her. To feel her body warmth radiating off to mine.

And when I least expect it, too lost in the rhythm of my heart beats, she speaks. "I know this is good. So... so," She lets out a breath as if frustrated with herself for being unable to complete the sentence. Inhaling deeply, she shakes her head, her layers of hair moving behind her shoulders, and attempts again. "So, don't be too hard on yourself."