Saving Boston (Rewritten)

That Is Your Problem. Not Mine.

My body shriveled up; my eyes squeezed at his tone. I melted in his hands like it was the first time hearing his voice. He has me wrapped around his finger. The worst part? He knows. What am I supposed to do when hearing him talk makes me feel safe? I felt untouchable around him. And I don't know what to do.

I let a sob rip through my throat from the absence in my chest. The feeling of being lost said I needed him to remind me who I was. I felt pathetic. The ache in my body, begging me to throw my arms around him, said to forgive him. How do I let go of the pain he caused me? How do I accept he was the reason for my mom's death and that he hid it from me? But I wondered if things would have been any different if he told me the second we met? Confusion made me ponder the thoughts.

"Hm?" He hummed into my ear.

I shoved him away with all the force I could muster up, yet his body didn't budge. The hood once casting a shadow over his face is now down. And I could see his face again. Those blue eyes I have come to love so much stared down at me with despair and regret.

"You are a fucking asshole!" My voice tore through my throat, making pain flare through the side of my face.

I cupped the side of my face as he frowned down at me. "Please, zip up your jacket. It is freezing."

I pointed at him as a thousand words begged to roll off my tongue, but nothing came out. So, a scream of frustration ripped through my throat instead. He did nothing but stand before me with remorse on his face, watching as I paced back and forth. And I hated it. I hated it all.

The resentment coursing through my veins has been there ever since the truth came out. Right now, it's growing more vital than ever. As I stared at his face and all of the times we spent together came rushing back. I felt my body going numb with irritability.

I pushed him back again, making him sigh. "Why?"

"Why?" I screamed, shoving him backward.

My fists continued to collide with his chest. It didn't hurt him. Nothing hurts him, but god, did I wish it did. I wanted him to hurt as much as I did.  He stood there, letting me wail on him, without an expression on his face. I wanted a reaction. I wanted him to fight back. I wanted a fucking answer.

"Bo," he gripped my wrists. "Stop."

I struggled in his grip. His hold never faltered as I thrashed around. "Damn it, stop!"

"I missed you!" My voice cracked as it changed in pitch. "And I don't want to!"

His fingers curled around my forearms, pulling me into his chest despite my efforts to fight him off. And when my cheek pressed against his skin, I felt myself relaxing in his hold. Nothing about my life has felt right. I have been existing without feeling alive. Then his arms wrapped around me, and warmth spread through my body. I realized at that moment that I never wanted to be more alive than I do now.

"Why did you leave me on that balcony alone?"

His hands tightened on me. "You never asked me to stay."

"I never asked you to go either."

"Forgive me then," he pleaded. "All I ever wanted was for you to be happy."

"But I am not."

"Then what can I do for you?"

My hands pressed against his chest, putting distance between us. "Tell me none of it was real."

"What part?" He winced. "Because I am not going to look you in the eyes and say that what I felt wasn't real."

"Why?" My throat began to ache as I struggled to keep the lump at bay. "Just say it wasn't real. Just say that none of it meant anything to you."

"If it didn't mean anything to me, I wouldn't have approached you at the party last night," his eyes began to gloss over. "If I didn't love you, I wouldn't have called Miles to make sure you made it home safely! I wouldn't have came down here to make sure nothing happened to you while you were on your phone. I wouldn't be standing in front of you right now, hoping that I could say something that would make you come back home!"

"I don't want you to love me anymore."

"That is pretty fucking hard, Bo," he snapped. "Considering, before you, I didn't have a reason to wake up in the morning, I don't know how to do that."

"You did it before - do it again!"

"I have loved you since I saw you at the party that night!"

"You didn't know me!"

"I didn't have to," he choked. "I just knew when I saw you, my life would never be the same."

"You didn't even talk to me."

"Nothing in my life has scared me since my dad went to prison," he sucked in harsh breaths. "Except for you, Bo."

"Why?"

"How clear do I have to make it to you? I fucking love you!" He ran his fingers through his hair. "Every little thing you do gets me going! I never had to worry about any opponent I have ever stepped in the ring with, but the way you talk and hold yourself knocks me the fuck out."

I choked on a sob as he continued raising his voice at me. "What the fuck do I have to do to prove to you that I love you?"

"Walk away."

"Is that what you want?" He snapped. "You want me to act like this never happened? You never want to see me again?"

"Yes -"

"Then look me in my fucking eyes and tell me that yourself," his voice dropped lower. "Look at me and say that you never want to see me again, and I will walk away without hesitating."

"Just like that? Without protest?"

His jaw clenched before his lips parted. "Just like that."

And before I could say another word to him, John was calling out from the entrance of the alleyway. "Bo?"

My head snapped to look at him, but I could see Kinnick's hard eyes staring at the side of my face. "John."

"Is everything okay?" He asked as he approached us.

"You can't say it," Kinnick spoke regardless of John standing there. "Just fucking admit it."

"Kinnick," John snapped. "Stop."

"No, he is right," my eyes met the blue-eyed boxer's. "I can't say it. I still love you, but that doesn't mean I am going to fall at your feet, and come crawling back. It has taken you two years to say something to me, and it wasn't because you sought me out. You stumbled across me at a party. I don't trust you, Kinnick. And that is your problem. Not mine."