tired yet? ||cashby||

Chapter 15

"I wasn't trying to kill myself." I suddenly couldn't meet his eyes, and hung my head in a moment of shame for my own actions. It was a mistake. "I-I just cut too deep and- and, I don't know," I muttered, feeling heat creep up my cheeks. Trying to be strong, I reminded myself that I shouldn't be judged for something that happened in the past, but that didn't stop the onslaught of embarrassment.

"Okay," he whispered. "It's okay. I didn't mean to make you feel bad, I promise. It just, it scared me," he said. I looked back up at him, and felt my heart ease.

"Okay," I repeated, watching his eyes.

Gently, like a petal falling from a flower, Austin leaned in and brushed his lips against mine. It made that heat inside me explode, and I let go of his hands in favor of wrapping my arms tightly around his neck. He swept me closer, pulling my waist in and pressing our stomachs and chests together. Daunted by his height, I lifted up onto my tippy toes and leaned in closer. Our mouths molded together perfectly; everything felt better now. Hesitantly, he pulled away, keeping his strong hands locked around me, though.

"Do you wanna talk about it?" he asked with great care. A 'no' was on the tip of my tongue, but then I stopped. Did I want to?

"Alright," I agreed, and he smiled down on me softly. Opening the door, I slipped into his car and sat down, closing it behind me with a soft thud. The air was quiet, and it filled my ears, like begging to be overlaid with conversation. He joined me, and suddenly we were together in the silence, watching each other expectantly. I turned around in my seat, leaning my back against the door and pulling my knees into my chest to face him.

"So," he began, mirroring my position. "Are you gonna tell me the story?" he asked, delicately rubbing his foot against mine.

"Where do I start?" I laughed dryly, smiling at him. The depression, I hoped so badly, was over now, and I looked back on it as a thing of the past. It was a period of my life that I could reflect on, and I guess that really made it okay for me to talk about to him.

"I guess it started a while back, in middle school..." I began. From there on out, we both just sat in his car, listening to each other recount the bad things, the good things, and even some things I'd never told anyone before. In the warm darkness of Austin's car, we sat for an hour or two, just letting the misunderstood things out, watching them whisk up into the atmosphere. It almost reminded me of the therapy sessions I used to go to, because he listened so well and always had the right thing to say. At first, I wasn't sure how to tell him that I used to have so many issues, but, after a bit, I became really comfortable to just say whatever I had been thinking, or whatever I wanted to say. The conversation slowed down, and we just watched each other in the dark matte of the car. It felt like a blurry, warm oil painting, where I couldn't quite make out what was transpiring, but I knew it was good. It felt good. It was happy.

His brown eyes were swallowing me again, and slowly, awkwardly, I climbed over the center console and nested myself into his lap. His seat was pushed as far from the wheel as it could've been, so I fit perfectly between his legs, sideways. Austin rested his arm against the wheel behind my back, pulling me closer to his chest. Shuffling around a moment, he smiled and leaned his head in the crook of my neck, making shivers creep up my body. I had never felt so at home before, in the dark silence of the car. Only our shallow breathing could be heard, and his lips as they kissed the side of my neck. For a few minutes, I just let everything wash over me, to feel the sadness and the happiness.

And I was okay. I really was.

"Alan?" he mumbled, holding me close and cuddling his head to mine.

"Hm?" I hummed questioningly.

"I think you're beautiful."

Surprised, I met his eyes in the shadows, where I might've gotten lost for all his perfection. It made me feel so broken in comparison, to look at something so whole and lovely like Austin. But I knew he was broken, too.