Flames Between Us (bxb) | ✔

Chapter Twelve

You guys know the drill. Vote, comment, follow. Ily✨

MICAH BLEU

Not much had been said from about twenty minutes ago until now, it was late and I could tell that we were both extremely tired. Weston pulls back his duvet covers, his chest and legs bare, ready to sleep any moment.

His eyes refuse to meet mine, a light ring of heaviness hanging below his eyes, his lips pulled into a permanent frown. Brows tight like he was overthinking a million things in his mind.

I knew he was beating himself up about what happened, it was obvious how guilty he looked and witnessing it was painful.

The silence was even worse, I'm not sure who was meant to speak. If there was anything worth saying at all, anything to salvage this situation.

Weston stalls before he gets into the bed, his feet shuffling. "Do you want me to sleep on the sofa?" He asks quietly, his eyes looking down at the bed.

"No," I say instantly. "We can share the bed."

He nods at my words and I slowly take off my clothes, folding them into a neat pile on the floor before slipping into the bed beside Weston.

His head was facing the ceiling, hands resting on his stomach as he lets out a quiet sigh. I roll onto my side and face him, his arm inches from mine. Feeling his warmth radiate through the bed.

"You want to spend the rest of your life with me?" I break the silence eventually.

Weston's lips curve about three seconds after I finish talking. "Yeah," he says quietly. "I really do."

"That's a big statement to make," I slide my hand underneath my face and look back at his expression.

His eyes turn to me, just about making out the lashes on his lids through the darkness. "It's not when you know you've met the right person," he clarifies. "You are that right person Micah."

My heart aches at the sound of his voice, the sincerity of his words.

"Have I fucked everything up?"

He rolls onto his back once again and huffs out a breath, clenching his eyes shut. I can sense his own embarrassment, mortified from what he accused me of earlier.

"No," I tell him honestly. "I just think we should sleep, start over tomorrow."

Weston nods and purses his lips. "You're right," he mumbles.

I shuffle closer to him and press a kiss to the edge of his shoulder, feeling his warmth against my skin. "Goodnight West," I whisper against him.

"Goodnight my love," Weston replies as he rolls onto his side, facing me.

He leans in closer to press a kiss to my jaw, his stubble lightly grazing my skin. "I love you," he tells me gently. "So much."

"I love you too," I whisper as I settle my head into his chest and attempt to close my eyes for the night.

. . .

The smell of crispy bacon stirs me from my sleep, feeling my stomach growl loudly at the sudden scent. Cracking my eyes open and shifting against Weston's bed, stretching my arms up and over my head.

I reach over to the night stand and grab my glasses before pushing myself up in the bed, noticing that I was alone. My eyes turn to the kitchen where Weston stood behind the counter, frying pan in one hand and a spatula in the other.