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“Taking even longer for Jer to forgive me for last year.”
Oof😭 I can’t wait for their story
“He’s okay, you know,” I say, wondering if it’d be better to just shut my trap. I don’t clarify who I’m referring to. “Happy, last I talked to him. Said he met someone.” All true. It’s impossible to tell for sure, but I swear Mason stiffens the faintest bit. “Good,” he says after a moment, voice stilted. “That’s good.”
OH MY GOD JSJANDNEJSBSHSBSBBDBDBDBSBSBSBSBSBDBDHDJDHDN AHHHHH
His arm twitches, and then he mumbles something, before rolling over onto his other side, away from me. He’s definitely unconscious, and yet he scoots back, snuggling into me.
Reading about them cuddling is the most cutest thing ever
I follow his lead and roll onto my side, sliding my arm over his waist. I take my other arm, which is numb and tingly from him lying on it, and shove it under the pillow under his head. We’re both bare ass naked under the covers, having opted out of getting dressed once we shut ourselves back in here for the night. My soft cock presses against his ass as I cuddle close, spooning him. Nose pressed to his nape, I inhale. He’s really here.
🥹
He loves to give me shit for it. For such a grump, he’s quite infuriatingly chipper in the mornings. It’s like he sucks all the happy out of me while I sleep, converting it into energy. Fucking incubus.
LMAOOOOOO
There’s also the fact the sheet is bunched at the bottom of the bed, leaving my naked ass bare to the world. I’m not conceited enough to think he’s waxing poetic about my body right now, but also, I am that conceited. I have a good body, a muse-worthy ass even, perhaps—I work hard in the gym for it—and I have it on good authority he loves it.
Yaaaas Will 👏👏👏👏👏
I just prefer to fuck him senseless than try to spin sonnets about it. Talented fucker, I grouse inwardly without any heat. He’s got more musical talent in his pinkie nail than I’ve got in my entire body.
“I meant… Are you sore?” He rolls his eyes, but I don’t miss the slight flush on his cheeks. “I’m fine. I’m sitting, aren’t I?” A low creaky chuckle escapes me at that. “It’s a good hurt, Will,” he assures me quietly. Something in his voice has me sobering. He smiles, and it’s a gentle smile, almost wistful. “Really good.” Jesus.
“And I did. I wanted a drink. I wanted to drink ’til I passed out. I wanted to drink until Saturday arrived, and you were here, and I could hold you and not feel like I’m breaking apart inside.”
💔💔💔💔
“One day, I’m going to get it through your thick, stubborn skull that you matter.” He stills. “Not just to me, but especially to me.” I swallow tightly. “That you don’t just…” —I wet my lips, searching his bright eyes— “disappear when no one’s looking.”
It’s been a while since I so viciously wanted to bring Seamus McAllister back from the dead, just so I can break him apart piece by piece. Give him a taste of what he did to his son. His own flesh and blood.
Me too will 🖕🖕🖕👊👊👊👊👊
“You don’t just stop existing when we’re not together,” I tell him. Grabbing his hand, I bring it to my chest. “You exist in here.” I push his knuckles against where my heart thumps strongly, ensuring he can feel it. “So long as this thing keeps beating, you’re not going anywhere. On the good days, the bad days, and everything in between. Even when you’re miles and miles away from me.”
“I might love you harder when you’re at your worst, but that’s only because you need it harder then. But my love for you when you’re at your best?” I release a breath, smiling. “It’s unmatched. It consumes me.”
“One day, I’m going to get it through your thick, stubborn skull that I love you even more when I’m happy.”
“That for as much as I need you when shit’s all dark and fucked up in my head, I love you just as much, if not more so, when I’m clear-headed. When I feel strong and capable, and not strangled by the fear that I’m going to lose you, or by the voices that try to convince me you deserve better.”
💔💔💔
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He inhales deeply, bringing us impossibly closer. “My love for you when I’m sad and scared is very selfish. Even a little ugly. But when I’m happy, it’s pure. Easy and simple as breathing.”
“I think…” he says slowly. “I think I want to go into social work.”
Omg🥺🥺🥺
It’s easier, I guess, when no one knows who I am. I can almost pretend I’m someone else as I reach for Will and press my body to his, burying my face in his neck. But I don’t want to be anyone else, I decide as his arms come around me, holding me tight. His voice is in my ear, and it’s all, “Way, Way, Way.” No. I don’t want to be anyone else but me. But his.
😭😭😭😭😭😭
I press a hand to my chest. Still beating. Still his.
🥲
I stumble back, so I just figure, fuck it, and grab him, holding him for leverage. He’s finally in my arms again, and I’m holding him so tight I lift him off the ground. Guitar and all.
They’re so fucking cute I can’t
“Take me home, City Boy?” is all he says, voice deep and rumbly. A deep-chested groan vibrates through my chest. “Don’t have to ask me twice.” And with that, hand in hand with our family trailing us, we walk out of the airport. Free, and together again at long last.
❤️
