the butterfly effect | l. garmadon

thirty-five

  I turned in his arms when my neck began to ache, kneeling on the edge of the mattress between his thighs. Lloyd craned his head up to reach me, I dug my fingers through his hair. The tiny gasps I'd snatch between swift partings wasn't enough; my lungs burned with the need for air. The hands on my waist dug into my flesh. I was anchored to him.

  Lloyd'd changed. It was obvious he was going to and noticeable that he'd had. There was an intensity to him that wasn't there before, a clinginess, an affectionate fervour that kept taking me by surprise. He was kissing me as if it'd be the last time we ever got to.

  And what with our impending battle, maybe he wasn't entirely wrong.

  Jay opened the door. "What do you want for breakfast-?" he cut himself off with a short scream.  

  My knees slipped from the bed's edge when I flinched apart from Lloyd, and I landed on the floor with a startled yelp. Lloyd was uncharacteristically too slow to catch me. He cursed and held out his arm for me to take.

  "Jay!" Lloyd bit in annoyance as he helped me back to my feet. "Knock."

  "Sorry!" he squeaked, and slammed the door shut behind him.

  Lloyd huffed and turned his attention back to me. The moment had been shattered, but it was probably for the best. He looked a bit more than breathless. I was a little winded, myself.

  "Sorry, sunshine," he said, and his face twisted with frustration. "I'm usually faster than that. Are you okay?"

  "I'm fine," I said with a half-smile. I planted my hands on his shoulders and tilted my head in question. "You heard him coming, didn't you?"

  Lloyd pursed his lips and looked away. "No."

  So a yes, then. He'd heard Jay coming and didn't even care. I smiled dryly at his pout and pressed an amused kiss to the crown of his head. For a guy who was still so early on in his recovery, he sure was insatiable.

  "I thought I said no more making out," I halfheartedly grumbled into his hair. He wrapped his arms tight around my waist.

  "I didn't hear you complaining," Lloyd smugly replied.

  My response was a life-wearied sigh. I couldn't argue against that.

  Since I no longer had Lloyd's body heat to keep me warm, I stole one of his hoodies, which didn't make me feel so melancholic to wear anymore. My legs ached and he was still unwell, so we hobbled like my elderly neighbours toward the bridge. It was so early. Did they all usually wake up at this time?

  "How's your stomach?" I asked. "Do you want me to make you some more rice?"

  "Don't worry about it, I'll make it myself," Lloyd said, and then turned to me when he felt my death glare burning a hole in the side of his head. His green eyes widened. "... or you can."

  I brightened. "Okay!"

  Lloyd's startled gaze warmed with appreciation, and my heart skipped a beat when they melted red. He shook his head with a small grin and took my hand to thread his fingers through, and I hoped he knew that he'd just opened an entirely new can of worms than what he was used to. I was going to do everything for him until he recovered.