Chapter Twenty
Rupert
I was bloody sick of crying!
The stinging eyes, the snotty nose, not to mention the wobbling lip and little hiccups. And while I knew it was my poor, overwhelmed nervous system’s response to stress, it was annoying, disgusting, and getting on my last nerve.
Could it not have picked a better reaction? Or not had one at all?
My fingers had found the back of Milo’s fleece, clutching the old pink and teal fabric like it was the last line of defence in the universe. My walls were broken, shattered on the ground around my feet, and I had nothing left to give. Or hide.
There was a small part of me that wanted to lash out, to keep pushing Milo until his stubbornness had worn away and he left. Then I’d have more proof that I destroyed everything good around me. That I was undeserving of anything remotely like love.
But I was too exhausted to keep fighting him.
For the first time, someone had seen flashes of the worst parts of me and instead of running, had cradled me in his hands like I was precious and sweet. Milo saw my fears, my temper, my irrational worries, and my pain, and embraced them. Because he knew what it was like to be too much.
“I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” I whispered, burying my face into his shoulder so he couldn’t see me as I repeated the words on a loop like a stuck record.
“Hey, it’s okay,” he said, wrapping his arms around me and squeezing so tightly it made something in my spine pop awkwardly. “Oh shit, sorry. Was that your back?”
“Yes, it’s fine though. Felt nice, actually.” I probably needed to go and see an osteopath at some point, or maybe get a sports massage, but it had gone on my long list of things to sort, which meant I likely wouldn’t get around to it until next year.
“Okay, good. The last thing I’d want is to fuck up your back,” Milo said, and I chuckled because he sounded so serious about it. Maybe that was the point—a simple distraction to draw me out of my head.
“It can match the rest of me then.”
“You’re not fucked up, sweetheart. You’re tired, you’re overstimulated, you’re hungry, and you’re scared of rejection—none of those are fuckups and they’re all fixable.”
“Are they?”
“Yeah, of course.” He kissed the side of my head. “Some of them might take a bit more time than others, but that’s fine. We’re not on a deadline.”
“Thank you,” I said, straightening myself up and wiping my face awkwardly with the cuffs of my jumper before digging in my pocket for a glasses cloth. The lenses were smeared from my tears, and whatever else had built-up on them throughout the day.
“For what?” Milo asked as I began to clean my glasses, using a nearby streetlight to see whether I’d made them better or worse.
“For all of this. For putting up with me when I…” I gestured vaguely with my hands. A sense of deep embarrassment was creeping in around the edges of my consciousness, prickling my skin and making my heart rate kick up like I was being hunted by hungry velociraptors.
“Don’t worry about it,” he said. “Seriously, it’s fine.
We all have shit days and you’re under a lot of stress.
Plus, you’re in a new relationship and you’re worried I’m going to suddenly wake up one morning, decide you’re a terrible, horrible person and disappear on you.
Which, I’m not, by the way. Remember all the mean, petty, spiteful shit we did to each other over the summer?
That didn’t put me off, did it? I still wanna shag you, and I think you’re cute as fuck. Nothing’s going to change that.”
“I suppose,” I said slowly, sliding my glasses back onto my face. “I guess… I got so fixated on the fact you might think I’m too much, and the fact we hadn’t really talked about the summer, I never considered that maybe you’d already seen the worst parts of me and didn’t care.”
“I mean, honestly? Sometimes it’s kinda hot when you’re petty, bossy, and snarky.”
“Seriously?”
“Yeah.” Milo smiled sheepishly, shoving his hands in his fleece pocket and fidgeting on the spot. “You don’t have to hide that part of yourself around me. If it’s too much, we can talk about it, but sometimes it’s hot when we’re all…”
I stared at him, the cogs in my brain whirring. “Are you seriously telling me that you found pissing me off all summer a turn-on?”
“No! Not all of it! I thought you were a petty, prissy bastard, but I still kinda liked it. You intrigued me.”
“You’re such an arsehole,” I said with a disbelieving chuckle. “Why didn’t you say anything?”
He shrugged again. “I dunno.”
“Okay, well, let’s both agree that from now on, we’re open with each other. About everything.”
“Will you be okay with that? Because ten minutes ago you were saying everyone hides things, especially from people they love.” Milo levelled me with a firm look and a gentle smile.
“I’m not saying it to be mean, sweetheart.
It’s just, it’s a bit of a pivot. And I don’t want you to force yourself into something that’ll make you uncomfortable. ”
He made a good point, but maybe it was time to push myself. I couldn’t let my fears and insecurities run my life, not to the degree they had been. My rejection sensitivity might be incredibly difficult to deal with at times, but if I wanted this with Milo, I was going to have to learn to ignore it.
“Maybe uncomfortable is good. Maybe I need to be uncomfortable sometimes.” I swallowed, letting the words slowly collect on my tongue. “I really like you, Milo. And I don’t want to let my brain get in the way of this. I know it’s not going to be easy, but I have to try. For me.”
“All right then.” He reached out to take my hand.
“Let’s be open with each other. As much as we can.
And if we’re struggling, we’ll tell each other.
Even if we only take small steps, that’s better than nothing.
We’ll get there, I promise. Doesn’t matter if it takes us a while. We’re all a work in progress.”
“I like that.” I nodded my head. “Yeah, I like that.”
I leant closer to him, brushing my lips against his, tasting the sea air and early winter chill.
There was still a discombobulated feeling floating around in my chest, but I let it sit there without forcing myself to do something about it.
This evening, and the conversation with Milo, might not have played out the way I’d expected, but it wasn’t a bad thing and I didn’t need to pick every detail apart to examine what had happened.
“What do you want to do now?” Milo asked. “Want to go back to yours and chill? We can easily order something for dinner.”
“Can we… can we still go up to the castle? I know we’ll miss the switch on, but there’s still the market and the garden light trail, and I’d like to do those with you.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes. I want to go on a date with you and have hot chocolate and eat burgers and chips and get ketchup all over my gloves because it always happens, no matter if you use the little wooden fork or not. As long as you want to, anyway.”
“Yeah, I do.” He kissed me again, his lips curling into a smile as he pressed our mouths together. “But I do have a question for you, before we go.”
“What’s that?”
“What’s your opinion on mince pies?”
“Delicious, obviously. Why?” I gasped playfully as I stepped back and saw his face pinch dramatically. “Oh my God, are you some sort of mince pie hater? This is heresy. I’m not sure I can deal with that.”
“Fuck off,” he said with a laugh, taking my hand and pulling me into step beside him as we finally resumed walking back towards my flat to retrieve my car. “Mince pies are trash and you know it.”
“Absolutely not, that’s slander! What’s not to love about fruit soaked in brandy and sugar and encased in pastry?”
“Um, everything. First of all, the only acceptable place for raisins is either in scones or rum and raisin ice cream. Secondly, they’re such a weird texture!
Especially the pastry. And, like, why do some people use that like, super crumbly shortcrust and other people use puff?
It’s fucking weird. And hardly anyone puts glacé cherries in them, which is the only good part.
Just give me some cherries, sugar, and brandy in a bowl and that’ll do me. ”
I snorted. “Do you want them cooked or just a bowl of glacé cherries, brown sugar, and brandy?”
“The second.”
“And that’s not weird?”
“Might be, but I’ll like it and that’s the important thing. Also, if it’s got enough brandy in it, maybe I could try fire breathing? I always thought that looked really fucking cool. I used to know a guy who spun fire poi and it was awesome!”
“Darling, do you seriously think that’s sensible?”
“I don’t see why not? It’s not like I’ve got a lot of hair to burn off. And if I did burn it, I could just shave my head again.”
“Are you thinking about doing that?” I asked, wondering if I should tell him that while a shaved head did suit him, I really liked the way his hair was growing back. It had a bit of a soft curl to it and seemed permanently windswept, even if we were indoors.
I liked being able to run my fingers through it when we were curled up on the sofa and he had his head in my lap, or when he fucked me slowly, his hands either side of my head as he folded me in half, or when he slid between my thighs to blow me, taking me apart with his tongue while I clung to him for dear life.
“Maybe, but my head was getting cold and I think I’ll be fucking miserable being bald all winter.” He tugged the beanie he was wearing lower over his ears, as if talking about it was making him cold.
I hummed teasingly in agreement. “Mmm, yes, if it makes you less whiny then you should definitely not shave your head again. It can wait until next summer.”
“Bossy, aren’t you?”
“Yes, but I believe you like it. Apparently, me telling you what to do turns you on.”
“I wouldn’t put it like that,” Milo said, but even under the streetlights I could see the slight flush on his cheeks.
“Really? Then how would you put it?”
“Dunno.”
I smirked. “We can talk about it later. After our date.”
Digging my keys out of my coat pocket, I steered us towards my car, which was parked on the road outside my flat.
It was only a little red Ford Fiesta, which I’d also inherited from my uncle.
It’d only been a few months old when he’d died and I didn’t drive much, so even now, it was still in great shape.
Milo climbed in and the two of us set off towards the castle, winding our way through the streets of Heather Bay and out of town.
I knew we were going to be late, but for once, it didn’t matter. Milo and I would get there in our own time, and it would be just as wonderful when we did as if we’d been there all along.