Crabstickz Imagines

After The Hard Part

After the hard part

Both of you had tear-stained faces. Chris looked really awful. His eyes were red and bloodshot. His face was unshaven and his clothes were crinkled. His hair was messy and his hands were shaking. You had also just noticed all the buttons were buttoned wrong on his shirt. Though, it wasn't like you looked much better.

Your skin was almost translucent. Veins stood out on your body like blue rivers branching off in multiple directions. The purple bags under your eyes looked like dark bruises. You hadn't eaten enough in days and you hadn't slept right in weeks.

This had all started when Chris and you had, had a huge fight. You couldn't remember how it started but you definitely remembered how it ended. You'd accused him of not loving you enough. You knew you were wrong. Chris, despite his sarcastic exterior, was actually such a sweet boyfriend. It had all been your own insecurities creeping up. You'd always feared that he'd leave you that one day he'd decide you weren't worth it. This caused you to think thoughts that weren't true in the least. He'd left then. He'd packed his stuff and left your flat.

You'd been a wreck ever since. Everything in your life was laced with Chris. Not having him around was like losing a limb. Everything had seemed off and nothing had gone well. It'd been a terrible 47 days.

Now he was back and you'd both sobbed your apologies and clung to one another like life rafts in a raging storm. You'd seen him cry for one of the very first times. It turns out neither of you had been eating or sleeping well. You were both weak and overwhelmed with emotions.

Now was the awkward part. Could you just go back to normal? Did he want that? You weren't sure how you stood with him. Of course, you both still loved one another, but what did that mean for him? As for you, all you wanted to do was be in his arms. To wipe the tears from his eyes, and kiss his soft pink lips again and again.

You heard him cracking his knuckles. You shuddered at the weirdness between the two of you. Where there had used to be laughing and kissing there was silence and heavy breathing. He stared up at the clock. You couldn't take it much longer.

You reached for the remote tentatively. You couldn't stand the silence. Doctor Who was on and you both loved that. So you sat in silence as the TV blared the noise of the Tardis.

This awkwardness lasted days. You wouldn't talk. It was odd, usually, you and Chris talked like mad about everything. One thing he would do though was touch you. Never sexually, and it never led to anything, not even kissing, but he would touch you. Absentminded brushes of skin.

Maybe it would be fingers brushing your shoulder as he left a room. Or playing with your hair as you laid in bed together. Sometimes he would even trace your freckles. The touches gave you hope and contentment, but then the both of you would drop back into the desperate heartbreaking silence. You'd stopped eating right again and sleeping was always hard. You didn't have the old Chris back, just a ghost of him. A shell of the man he'd been before. Sometimes you could hear his voice return to normal but in the end, it would always falter. You couldn't stand the feeling his silence gave you.

Currently, you both were sitting on the couch. He was flipping through the channels and you were reading. The silence laid between you like a barrier. An unbroken wall.

Suddenly you felt fingers on your bare thigh. It wasn't a sexual move but your breath still hitched. Chris was absentmindedly drawing circles on your skin. The feeling gave you such happiness and comfort, but you didn't know how to respond. Now his long fingers had migrated to your arm and he was running them up and down your skin. You almost shivered from the want to snuggle closer to him. This went on a few more minutes until you heard a sniffle and you saw that Chris was crying.

"Chris!" You said alarmed throwing your book down and moving closer. He turned his head away and scrubbed at his eyes. His fingers were still tracing your body lightly.

"Chris!" You said more sternly grabbing the hand he wasn't using. "What's wrong?" You asked and when he turned, you felt your heart drop. You hated when he was sad.

"I missed you so much," his voice sounded broken. "I can't stop touching you, I need to know your real I just..." You cut him off by moving onto his lap so that you were facing him. You took both his hands and placed them under your shirt and onto your hips.

"Touch me as much as you want, I'm real and I'm not going anywhere," you told him quietly. His eyes filled with a look of relief. You bent down slightly and kissed his lips passionately. You felt his large hands roam your body. It was like he was relearning your curves, your dimples, and your freckles. His hands caressed your body as a man who was blind would feel something foreign. You could feel his breathing steady as he flowed back into his comfort zone. He was home and you wouldn't have it any other way.