ೃ⁀➷ᴘꜱʏᴄʜᴏᴘᴀᴛʜ ¬ ᴇɴɢ ᴠᴇʀ

- F I V E -

After I locked myself in the room, I didn't hear from him again. I didn't go out until the next day, and I assumed he had slept downstairs or had been working in his office all night, but he hadn't. To my luck, he was waiting for me on the other side of the room door, arms crossed and a serious face, and I just smiled. To my luck, he was waiting for me on the other side of the bedroom door, arms folded and with a serious face, I just gave him a fake smile, said hello and went downstairs, but I couldn't. He tugged my arm so that I would come downstairs. He tugged my arm to pull me back and greet him as I should have, that is, to leave a kiss on his cheek and pretend nothing had happened, as usual. I couldn't complain, I didn't want to have a bad time so early in the morning, so I just obliged and was finally able to go down to the kitchen and start preparing breakfast.

I can't deny that there are times when he is affectionate and treats me well. To be honest, he treats me badly and in a toxic way only when I refer to the outside world, outside the house, and when I refuse something he wants.

So, as I was preparing breakfast, Chris came to hug me from behind and rested his head on my shoulder. He looked sleepy, maybe he hadn't slept at all all night waiting for me to come out to see him, but I wasn't going to ask him. Not because I didn't care, but for fear of us fighting again, I'd rather we were okay for a little while at least.

We ate, without speaking to each other, but it wasn't uncomfortable either, it was already a habit. I washed up what we had used, he went to his office to continue working, and I watched TV all afternoon. The house was clean, I had nothing to do except watch movies or sleep. I could have gone to write, but I would do that later.

Now that I'm paying more attention to him, I've never asked Chris what he works so hard at. When we met, I was two years away from finishing my journalism degree, which I managed to finish, but didn't manage to execute, and he had told me that he wanted to start his own company as a publisher, but he didn't know how. Honestly, I don't know why he shut himself up so much in that four-walled space to work, but I don't think I'd ask him.

The afternoon went by, and I ended up falling asleep on the couch because I was so bored. I had been doing the same routine for so long that I knew all the programming by heart, and I rarely found new programs that amused me. It must have been an hour or two later when I woke up and I wasn't where I was supposed to have fallen asleep, I was in my bed, covered with a blanket and in company. Apparently, Chris had come out of his office and would have carried me into the room, then laid down next to me and covered us with the blanket. He wasn't very close to me, but he was in the same bed, which hadn't happened for months.

I realized that he was fast asleep, so I quietly settled down and watched the features of his face. Long ago, the first few times we slept together, I liked to wake up first and look at his face. The sunlight lit him up so beautifully, it made me long to sleep with him as often as possible, I couldn't get enough of his fluttering hair, his closed eyes, and his half parted lips. I couldn't lie, I still did, but if he started to wake up, I would pretend to sleep and wait for him to get up.
Looking at him so closely again, I noticed how he's changed from day one to today. His eyes look more droopy, tired, his lips no longer form a slight smile and his hair is burnt from not taking care of it. He used to go monthly for a treatment at a nearby
hair salon, but, when he started worrying more about keeping me cooped up, he stopped going and it showed. Chris used to have his hair colored and combed, but that was just a memory. Nowadays he kept it natural and barely combed it.