Willingly: Her Version

Chapter Fifteen

Once I've adjusted to living at his home and with him, I plotted out a few short-term goals for myself. One of them is to get Kurt to talk. Well, technically he does, but it has always been short. I want to hear him say longer sentences. Was I hoping for sweet nothings? Maybe.

I was always chatty, during dinner, or when we watch tv, or when we get to the bed. Whenever I say something, I would look at him for a reply or some sort of reaction. Mostly, he nods or grunts his agreement. When I looked back on it, he talks a lot when I'm not feeling well. That's to ask if I'm okay and to tell me to take care of myself. Oh right, in bed he kind of talks a lot. But that's mostly to say how he feels, to tell me this and that, and to utter my name. I like those but they aren't as tangible or relevant.

I've tried asking him for his opinions while we watch the news, but... he only says his conclusions without expounding on it.

Should I try a direct approach?

I leaned on his chest as I watched him watching a movie. He noticed my stare.

"What?"

"I love it when you talk to me." As expected, he doesn't have anything to say to that.

"What can I do to make you talk?" I insisted and he looked a bit uncomfortable. He tried to disentangle himself from me. I frowned. Is that necessary? I clung to his arm as he sighed.

Short and direct. That's how he speaks. Okay, let's work on that. I pecked him on the lips and his expression turned gentler.

"Favorite color?" He might be more comfortable if I don't look at him so I turned to watch the tv, too.

"Black."

"Typical." I replied, but then he stroked my hair. I turned to look at him and he's looking at my hair. I raised an eyebrow. What the...?

"Time of the day?"

"Waking up." He leaned to peck me on the lips. I realized he has a weird way of explaining things, but somehow... I'm starting to get it.

"Food?"

"Whatever you cook." The tv is absolutely forgotten now.

"Place?"

"Bed."

I chuckled at his answer.

"Colleague?" That might be dangerous territory.

"You."

"Am I?" I raised an eyebrow.

"You work here."

Okay, that might be acceptable.

"Where to go on a date?"

This one's tricky. We haven't been out much.

"Restaurant?" His hesitation is cute. I silently agreed at his choice.

"Pet?"

He turned to look at Catto, curled on the top of the mini table. We only have one, anyway.

"Subject in school?"

"Math."

Well, I know he's bright.

"What you like about me?" Oh, this just got personal.

"You." Before I could react, he had already covered my mouth. I moaned against his lips. Apparently, that question is dangerous territory. He made love to me on the couch.

The next time I did that exercise of getting him to talk, I steered clear from certain questions, unless that is what I wanted to happen.