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My fingers bunch the cloth and I lift it to my nose to drag in a long inhale.
Better pray he doesn’t finally see you for the basket case you truly are.
“No, it’s not. And stop that. Are you a dog?” “Woof.” He grabs my cheeks with wet fingers. “Let me lick your face.”
“High energy. Racing thoughts. Uncontainable need for more, more, and fucking more. I had it that day when I fought Kill and beat him to a pulp while you were flirting with Eva.”
“It’s not a competition. I can be yours while you’re mine.” He grins. “Love these sudden bursts of possessiveness, baby. You better not have had them with others.”
“You’re not going anywhere anymore.” He kisses my Adam’s apple. “Night, baby.”
I stroke his arm and kiss the top of his head. “Night, Niko.”
Absolutely Kicking my feet right now
“Don’t go,” he lets out in a sleepy rumble. And my heart swells so much, I’m surprised it doesn’t burst.
“I like my life in order.” “Too bad I’m in it.”
Nikolai never liked tea before, but when I offer him a cup, he drinks without moaning about it. I’m converting him slowly but surely.
Im gonna DIE thats so fucking cute
Kissing him outside of sex is different. New. It makes my chest hurt and my brain fog up, but I was always a sucker for pain.
This man will fucking destroy me. I just hope I don’t destroy him in the process.
“And yet, she has the liberty to call you her hunk?” I grin. “Jealous, baby?”
“Aren’t you curious about me?”
“I am,”
Im going to sob
“Tell me something in Russian.”
“Ya nee ma goo bees tee byah zhit.”
“You’re an artist’s dream muse.” “Then make me yours.”
I’m completely and irrevocably in trouble because of Brandon King.
Turns out, Bran saw it and sent me this gem of a text. You better remember who the fuck you belong to, Nikolai.
“I just want you to know that you deserve to be loved in the light, Niko. Just like everyone else.”
He’s meticulous about everything, and he’s so ridiculously hard on himself, it’s starting to raise red flags. No one should be that perfect and think they’re not. Literally no one.
My hand falls from the knob when I find him standing in the center of the room, in front of a canvas full of chaotic black strokes. His palette is on the floor, smudged in black as if he poured it out to murder all the other colors.
He looks straight through me as if his body is here, but his soul is floating somewhere else.
Listen carefully and you can hear my heart shattering into a million pieces.
I can’t watch him break in silence and do nothing.
“Don’t leave me.”
What if I start crying.
“Because I’m fucked up.” His voice sounds like death’s lullaby, anguished and shattered.
Why did you come into my life and destroy every wall I built and ruin every lie I told myself? Why do you touch me like I’m beautiful? Why don’t you hate me when I can’t stand my-fucking-self?”
It doesn’t hurt when you touch me.”
I’d willingly catch fire if he so much as asked me to.
Why did I ever feel like I’d be judged by my closest friends? My intimate circle of support? No, it’s not them I was scared of. It’s me. It’s always my-fucking-self. I’m my own worst enemy.
Good grief. Where did that violent thought come from?
And I want to…what? What the fuck do you think you can do when you’re broken yourself?
The alternative to the pills is being stuck in the middle of a black rage for the foreseeable future.
My current state doesn’t allow for me to see him. I don’t trust myself not to hurt him. I really, really fucking don’t.
It’s too late. My fist slams into Bran’s face. Fuck, fuck, fuck!
Oh no not his pwetty face
Tonight is just a fucked-up fucking case of fucking fuckery!
He comes to a halt in front of me and his expression slowly shifts from anger to…softness? Since when does he soften?
Since he met YOU I'm SOBBING
He tastes like my imminent downfall.
He fucking broke me. Literally and figuratively.
Forget about being heartbroken. I’m fucking livid right now.
“Will you cry at my funeral?” “Lan! Don’t joke about nonsense like that.” “But I want to know. Will you?”
“I want you to listen to me and listen carefully. You’re part of me. That means I’m critical of you like I’m critical of myself. I see your safety as my own, sometimes even more so because you tend to think of others’ comfort more than your own. I hated it when you closed yourself behind a fortress and kept me out. I need you to understand that.”
“Congratulations, Nikolai. You get your fucking wish.” I point a finger at his chest. “We’re over.”
hugs. Dad has always been the ultimate role model and the type of man I’ve strived to be. Responsible. Reliable. In control. Too bad I’m too messed up in the head to ever be able to achieve that.
I grew up surrounded by their passionate, unconditional love and that’s one of the reasons that hope was kept alive inside me—as futile as it is.
One cut. A small one. I just need to breathe. I want to fucking breathe.
“Will you be too shocked if I say it’s a man?” Mum’s lips break into a grin. “I knew it.” “Me, too,” Dad says.
Lmao
Anyway, breakfast.
Real.
Nikolai is in my parents' house.
