Under My Skin

Over And Over

Connor slept at my house, that night. Run down, stretched to his end, and hurt, he stayed with me. He didn't want to be alone. And frankly, I didn't want him to, either.

I'm not really someone that knows what to say to help people. I don't know how to comfort them when they're crying, I don't certainly know how to make them feel better. But I know him. I know he needs to be here, with me right now. Even if it makes no sense for him to want to be with me, of all people. I know that's what he needs.

I'm not used to being someone's go-to. I'm not used to being someone that people need, that people depend on. But as foreign as it is to me, it's good. I like having someone to be there for. I like being somebody that someone else needs.
It's new, but it came very easily to me. I love him to death. And when you love someone like that, being there for them is easy. Loving him is the easiest thing in the world.

He was cuddled up to me the whole evening, his head on my shoulder. He was as close to me as he could possibly get, like he didn't want to let go. He hogged the blanket, as usual, but I was more than okay with it. The man's always cold.
It's strange to see him like this - insecure, needing my comfort and support. It's always the other way around. I'm always the one that needs to be taken care of.

That night, he slept as close to me as he could get. He held me like I was his last piece of physical stability, silent the whole night. Like he was embarrassed, almost. He hates feeling weak, feeling like he needs to be taken care of. He wants to be able to take care of me. Always.
He's not very fair to himself, in that regard. He expects so much of himself in taking care of me, but refuses to put any of that into himself. And he hates allowing it for himself, even from me. Especially from me. He wants to seem strong for me, like he'll always be able to take care of me. I tell him, he needs to be taken care of, too. Everyone does. But he doesn't like to accept it. Not like this, not when he's hurting.
But for his own good, he gave in. He stayed tight to my chest all night long.

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The front door slammed shut as Connor entered the house, calling out an exhausted "I'm home!" To let me know he wasn't an intruder

"I'll be right there!" I called from the couch

"No, stay. I'll come to you" he made his way in, knowing full well I haven't sat down since I woke up this morning. Once I start my routine, I don't stop until it's finished. He knows that just as well as I do.

He dropped his bag in the doorway of the living room, dragging himself to the couch on which he threw himself down.

"I'm so glad you're home.. I missed you a lot." I reminded, placing adoring kisses up and down his face and neck as I greeted him

"I missed you, too.."

I continued relentlessly popping kisses over his face and body, trying to just get a smile out of him, ignoring the way it wrinkled my just-ironed shirt to slouch down that way. I just wanted him to smile.

"Baby.." he sighed, leaning out of my touch

"Hm..?"

"I'm having a really shitty day. Can we just... cuddle or something? It's not that I don't.. love it when you kiss me, I just... I just want to cuddle.. maybe talk about the day.. I'm sorry."

"Don't be sorry.. come here, tell me what's going on.." I sat upright, pulling him slightly in front of me, pretending not to hold hesitations of being overtly touchy.

"thank you... you're so nice."

"What happened?" I lowered my stiff hands to his shoulders, beginning to massage, with what little skill I had