"Hold me."
Two simple words.
Two words that were spoken so quietly that he almost didn't hear.
"Please, I just need you to hold me." Your voice was still quiet, but he'd heard it then. Within milliseconds he was pushing himself away from the bathroom doorway and toward the bed where you sat propped up against all the cushions.
You didn't know why you felt so needy. You hated feeling needy. Taron was a busy man and had other, more important things to deal with. But you needed him that night. You needed him to wrap his arms around your body and pull you so close to his that you struggled for breath. You needed to feel his breath on the curve of your neck when it meets your shoulder as he rocked you so softly. You needed to know that he was there.
The bed dipped beside you and you could feel Taron crawl over to you. His arms found their way around your waist and he pulled you into his lap. Your legs wrapped around his waist instantly and you nuzzled into his neck, inhaling him.
"I'm right here baby," he whispered soothingly. "Gonna tell me what's going on in that pretty little head of yours?"
All you could give was a shrug. If you knew why you felt so rubbish you would tell him. But you didn't know so you couldn't tell him. He understood, getting himself worked up often about a new movie to the point where he would want to hide away and not talk to anybody.
His hands rubbed down your back to the swell of your bum before rubbing all the way up to your shoulders. After a while, your breaths started to match the pace of his hands and you felt content. He felt your eyelashes fluttering against his neck but he refused to make you aware of the fact that it tickled. All he cared about was his girlfriend feeling better.
"I love you, you know," he uttered, not stopping his hands from rubbing your back over your hoodie. "I love you more than I love a good pint at the pub and you know how much I love those."
The faint sound of a chuckle from you made him aware that you were feeling slightly better. Telling a joke or saying something that would normally make you laugh was how he gauged how rubbish you felt. If he received no response at all, he knew that you really weren't doing too great, but if he received a little chuckle as he had then, he knew that it would be easy to perk you back up again.
"What do you say we order a takeaway, take the duet downstairs and have a cwtch while watching a film? You can choose the food and the film."
You slowly lifted your head from his neck, your eyes slightly puffy but still beautiful. When you nodded with a small pout he grabbed a hold of your bum, twisting his body on the bed and standing up.
"I'm going to carry you downstairs and get you on the sofa with a cuppa tea and then I'll come and get the duvet. We'll get comfy and order food, yeah?"
"Yes please."
The descent down the stairs was slow, Taron paying extra care of looking around you to see where he was going. It was made slightly easier with your head in his neck again, though the tender kisses you were leaving didn't help.
"I love you too, by the way."
