Moonlight Kisses

landslide

if y'all are into the crying thing, i kindly suggest playing landslide by fleetwood mac for this one :')

beau.

Her sad gaze snaps up to meet mine. Her beautiful blue eyes sparkling with unshed tears.

I'm so fucking sorry she had to see me this way.

I didn't miss the transparent fear in her eyes when she looked at me. A stranger I was to her. Her small frame crumbled to the ground. Weak and petrified. I never meant for her to see me this way, so fucking angry. All I was seeing was red and I couldn't stop throwing punches. Pain was nonexistent. The world was nonexistent. She was nonexistent. Her voice was frail and hoarse from the sobs that should have been the thing that brought me back from the hellfire that'd become my fury.

Confusion written in her expression, a look she'd never let me forget. Jo was trying, I know she was, to not let her shock show through. There was a void look in her eyes, wiped of love, wiped of adoration. I wasn't the person she fell in love with, it was clear in her gaze. I scared her. Showed her a side of me she couldn't comprehend was there. She was already terrified when I got there, panicked beyond relief, and I just made it fucking worse. She saw a side to me she didn't recognize.

She'd let me touch her out of pity. Using my touch as a way to try to come back to me, remember who I was. I didn't miss the way her eyes lingered on my hands, stained in another person's blood. I was afraid to touch her, scare her more than I already had, but then she put her warm gentle touch on my hands. That would never change. Even with my blood-stained hands, she was still so tender, so fucking careful in her fingertips. I didn't deserve that kind of treatment. Not when she was just using her touch to lie to me. Reassure me that she was here with me when she clearly wasn't. Jo was afraid of me. Afraid of how far my anger had escalated.

In the moment, I couldn't help it. I was lost. Completely stuck on the fact that Colin was trying to force himself on her again. I don't know why the hell I showed him an ounce of mercy the first time around, allowing him to walk off scot-free. I knew something was up when Jo wasn't waiting for me by the soccer field. I told her we'd be out by five, mistakenly thinking our coach wouldn't give us a few extra laps to run after my half of the team lost the scrimmage. Stupid fucking freshman are to blame. Our coaches combined the varsity and junior varsity divisions, putting most of the JV players on my end, it was practically set up that we'd lose. Consequences happened, laps were run, and I didn't get out of there until half an hour after our scheduled practice was over.

As soon as I got released from practice, I rushed right to her. And thank god I did just in time. Any second longer that that prick had his hands on her was vital, dire to how she'd heal in the coming days. I'm praying she wasn't caught in that position for long. Fuck, I didn't even check her to make sure she was okay. I was so caught in my boiling anger to realize anything other than he was touching her, hurting her. Her weak pleas to make him stop broke my heart. Seeing her in pain ripped into me and tore me to shreds. I should've gone to her first and made sure she was safe instead of going straight to Colin.

I'm such a shit boyfriend.

Jo stands up from her seat, folding her hands in front of her nervously. She really doesn't fucking recognize who I am. Through the bruises and gashes on my face or the red tint of blood on my hands. What she saw is still fresh in her mind, I can read that like a fucking book. She can pretend like it's not bothering her knowing there's a part of me that's willing to kill, but she can't fool me. Not even with her wary smiles and the innumerable amount of times she's going to tell me she's okay.

She reaches out with nimble hands to grasp mine. Her movements falter ever so slightly when she sees the bandage wraps around my knuckles.

Suffocating annoying things. Most of the blood on my hands was mine from repeatedly slamming my fists into that fucker's face. My busted knuckles are going to take days to heal, deep gashes to join the scars I've amassed over the years. They look worse than they feel. I don't need stitches at least so they'll heal fine.