Pessimist

34 - Ether

"How would you feel about walking around the mall and shopping?" Dean says from his closet, his back turned to me as he stands there from the waist up unclothed. "We can go out to eat after. Have a casual date."

I roll over from my back to my stomach, face cradled in the palm of my hands as I kick my legs.

"Hmm...I don't know. Do we have to go? I'm okay with ordering in and watching a movie with you."

Dean pulls a top cleanly off a hanger, turning around towards me to slip it over his head. My eyes automatically trace his bare chest, the muscles rippling under his movement and when I fly my eyes back to meet his, I'm met with amusement.

My cheeks flush red but I don't duck my chin, keeping it high as his smile widens.

"I feel objectified."

"If you want, I can take off my shirt too and we can have a slumber party."

"We basically sleep in my bed together everyday. You think one of us sleeping on the floor would be more fun?"

I roll my eyes at that. Ever so logical, my lover is. "Now I don't want to go at all."

Something in my tone must concern him, the glint in his eyes changing as he walks towards me and crouches at the front of the bed so we're eye level. His hand is soft as he cups my face, thumb rubbing up and down on my cheek while his fingers gently massage my scalp making my eyes close ever so slightly.

"Are you feeling alright, Sweetheart?" He asks in that sweet, pretty voice that has me leaning into him as usual. "You aren't on your period yet, you still have two weeks."

I forgot that he takes notice of the little things. On the rare days I do happen to get my period, the cramps can get so excruciating it's almost hard to stand—much less breathe. Though he knows how irregular they can be, sometimes it comes every month while other times, every few months. I haven't gotten my period in a while, so the likelihood of it being soon is high.

"I'm alright." I say, a truth and a lie. I still haven't talked about the hospital visit, or the results. I know he won't judge me but I needed some time on my own to grieve. To let my brain process it before that information was shared with everyone else.

Alex has been extremely supportive, though. Always being there for me, verbally and silently too. And in between school and work, I've barely had a chance to think straight. I even stopped therapy for a while, not in the mood to relieve horrific experiences in order to move on.

Tonight, I thought, I'd finally tell him tonight.

"We don't have to go out if you don't want to. I just noticed you haven't left your bed whenever you're home. You're either sleeping or studying—wait, when was the last time you ate?"

I wince, covering my face to hide from him but he doesn't let me, gathering my hands in his to keep them down. With a kiss to my forehead, the tears threaten to flow to my eyes but I blink them back, all of a sudden exhausted.

"I forgot, I'm sorry." I say in a small voice, frustrated at myself. I've been doing so good lately, eating properly and taking care of myself despite the shitty curveballs life has been throwing at me recently. This feels like a setback. I've been doing a lot of that too; forgetting. My mind is so crowded that a sharp knife couldn't cut through the fog.