RIGHT IN THE FEELS (a compilation)

All In

I blinked the sleep away and yawn as I descend the stairs, my tummy making funny noises following the tang of curry down the hall.

Leaning against the doorway, a familiar warmth made its way through my gut and I smiled when I found you stirring the pot and then getting a spoon to try out its taste.

The sound of the coffee machine got both our attention before you spin around, hurriedly reaching out for the hanged apron near you. Except, our eyes met and you froze. Gotcha. Caught red-handed.

"Babe, I was about to get you," your mouth tugged into a grin, knowing damn well why my brow is raising this early. I mean, it's past one o'clock, but early is when you wake up, right?

"Uhuh?" I probed. "About to wear the apron just to get me in my room, honey? Since when is its use in the kitchen altered?"

"Since you started drooling whenever you see me in nothing but sweatpants and apron, babe," I flipped you off and your grin spreads wider, mischief glinting in your eyes. "Unless you prefer me this way?"

Your arms are already wrapped around my waist by the time you finished teasing me and I chortled in response.

"Stop, I already missed breakfast," I elbowed your rib playfully before I leaned into your embrace completely, basking on your comfortable warmth.

"That's fine, babe. You had a rough night," you kissed the side of my temple before leaning into the crook of my neck, then kissing the spot where my neck and shoulder meet.

You don't sound teasing anymore when you said that. Of course, it's not the kind of rough night where we fuck every waking second 'til the sun peaks and we give in to sleep.

After yesterday's session with my therapist, my nightmares visited me again last night. I was thrashing the bed so bad, you had to stay up all night.

"I made you coffee, babe. Let me get your strawberry corn flakes too while you wait for lunch to be ready," you kissed my head one more time as I sat on an island stool and you made your way to the coffee machine.

A year ago, I would've wondered how you knew how I like my coffee.

Or how I like my soles to be rubbed when we sit on the couch bingeing films.

How I like to be left alone when my kindle or my ukulele's on my hand.

How I like my arms to be stroked when we hug or cuddle.

Fuck, even the amount of coke I like in my rum.

Or hell, how I like seeing you wandering the kitchen in your sweatpants topped only with the stupid apron.

Years later, I already can let you touch me without flinching even a bit.

I already can ride at the back of your motorcycle, wrap my arms around your torso, and lean my body on yours.

I already know how you know me as much as my body already recognize every bit of you.

You were patient.
You tried hard to understand.
You were here all along.

Even when I cried every time you show me your love and affection.

I wasn't used to all of it. I cannot feel all of it before. But you taught me how and you held my hand as I try to walk out of that dark path I was in.

All because you are all in.

"Our therapist said it doesn't just go away, babe. But it didn't mean you're not doing well," you reached for my hands that I wasn't aware are trembling and stroked each of my knuckle. "You're doing better with or without the nightmares robbing you rest. They're not getting anything from you again aside from that, babe."