Five Hundred Miles

2.7: Kiss Me.

Chapter 2.7: Kiss Me. [UNEDITED]

[Look, I think maybe we've been hurt so often that even if someone harms us accidentally, we're blind to see it that way---- Kresley Cole, Kiss of a Demon King]

"Drink," I slam the cup of coffee on the Starbucks table. The night has descend, and Starbucks is going to close soon, but we don't care anyways. I sit next to him, waiting for him to touch the coffee.

His stubble has been marring his perfect chin, but his eyes are sagging and his face has concaved. I try not to scowl at him or be angry, even when I'm anything but.

"Drink," I say again, my voice hard as steel but full of hidden emotion. I can't go hard on him, it's betraying my human nature. It hurts my heart to see him so upset and lifeless, like a walking zombie.

Again, he fishes something from his long coat. He places the golden pocket watch on the desk and stares at it for a long time, not speaking. For a moment, I don't really understand what's happening.

We are stuck in this situation when nobody knows to speak or not. I'm afraid to break the silence, and I don't know why. I dare not face him, I'm a coward.

He finally lifts his eyes off the gold thing and looks at me directly, making me fidget. I don't even want to know what he's thinking about me, especially how cruel I was just now. I don't have to face him, his none of my concern, none.

I listen as he tug his collar down, revealing the upper part of his protruding breast muscles. I almost yell at him: It's public, you dummy! But he isn't focusing on taking off his clothes. He fumbles for the tight necklace around his neck-the one I gave him on his God-knows-whenever birthday.

The heart shaped necklace. My heart for him.

He takes the necklace off and puts it on the desk, beside the golden watch. I hate that part of me still worries about him and part of me still cares about what he thinks of me. I'm just afraid that he's giving me back everything I've given him. I'm just equally afraid that he is already feeling what I am trying so hard to feel for him-nothing.

Finally I gather you my courage to look at him. His blue eyes seem darker under the shade of the yellow light. They look softer and vulnerable, like the kind of eyes puppy has. It will hurt me more if I try to hurt anyone with eyes like that.

"Gideon...?" I want to keep my voice firm, hut it comes out as a purr instead. My eyes are watering up quickly, and for the firs time, I don't bother to let him look at me. It doesn't matter anymore, it isn't suppose to.

"Maple," he says, his firm eyes grasping mine like pointy ends. It seems to me that him knowing my real identity-when he's sober-doesn't matter to me anymore. So what if my Joshua finds out? He isn't mine anymore. "I'm sorry,"

He has said the words for what seems like the hundredth time. "You don't owe me an apology, Gideon. Really-"

"Don't address me as that anymore. You know my name. You know it, say it, princess." He says in a surprisingly soft tone.

"Jo...Joshua." I stutter.

"Hi," he says.

"You shouldn't be here," I say hastily, grasping for possible words to say.

"I came for a reason." He says.

"What reason?"

"I just want to make sure that you're alright. That you're happy and healthy,"

I almost roll my eyes, but did not. "It's only been a few days, how bad can I be?"

It doesn't have to be me. Look at him. I'm right that it's only been a few days, but he has changed a lot. His usual energy and vigor is long gone, replaced by someone so familiar.