my salvation (chris evans)

chapter fifteen - in need of a pick me up

The rest of June flies by, and soon enough, the hot, muggy July air washes over Massachusetts. It's at least more bearable than the hot weather in England, because here air-con is actually widely available. It's been a little over a month since I moved here, and it's been bliss. Living with Chris has been everything I imagined and more. I don't think I've ever been happier.

However, it never lasts. Something always happens to remind me that things aren't perfect. That I'm not perfect. That happiness never seems to last for me.

Over the last few days, my stutter has got bad again. Really bad. I kind of go through stages. Sometimes, it can be hardly noticeable. It's bearable. And sometimes... Sometimes, it's physically and emotionally exhausting to speak. Sadly, I'm the latter at the moment, and every time it happens, I end up tumbling down the rabbit hole of anxiety and depression. The more I worry about it, the worse it is, and it's so hard to get out of the cycle.

Currently, I'm curled up on the sofa watching a movie. Dodger is sat up with me, and I stroke him, negative thoughts spiralling my mind on loop. I was supposed to have lunch with Chris's mum this afternoon, however I ended up cancelling. I feel absolutely awful, but I can't even comprehend trying to talk to anyone today. I hope Chris is too tired to want to talk when he gets home from work. It should be any minute now. As if on queue, the door clicks open and Dodger jumps off the sofa, charging out of the living room.

"Hey there bubba! Hey!" I smile softly. I hear his footsteps come down the hall, then he wanders in with a smile. He walks over to me, crashing down next to me. "And hello to my beautiful girlfriend."

"Hi th-there—" Fuck. Already at it. I hate this.

"You okay?" I nod, faking a smile. "You sure?"

"Yeah, c-course—"

"How was lunch with my mom?" Crap. I gulp. If I tell him, I'll have to explain why I cancelled. But if I lie...

"Um, yeah! It w-was n-n-nice—" He sighs sadly.

"My mom called me, Meg. She told me you cancelled." Oh fuck. I glance down, ashamed.

"Ah..." God, I make a mess of everything. "Is sh-she mad?"

"Of course she isn't. She just told me to make sure you're okay. So come on, what did we agree? Complete honesty. What's wrong?" Shit. I exhale deeply.

"It's j-just— l-lately mmmmy— ugggh." I bury my face in my arms, my knees supporting them. A few tears escape my eyes.

"Hey, hey, c'mon, don't get upset. Take your time." He soothes, putting his hand on my forearm. "Just breathe."

"I-I t-try t-to—" I answer, sobbing and frustrated. "N-Nothing helps. I can't fucking sp-sp-sssspeak. I'm exhausted."

"C'mere." He says, opening his arms up. I cry harder, leaning into him. He wraps his arms around me tightly, laying a gentle kiss on my temple. "You know that your stutter doesn't bother me. Or my mom. Or anyone that's important."

"B-But it b-b-bothers um, um, mmme. I hate it. I-I hate it sssso fucking much—"

"Sh, shh, I know, I know. I'm sorry. If I could take it away from you, I would. I would trade places with you in a heartbeat." I sniffle, shaking my head.

"Y-You don't w-w-want this." He glances down at me and wipes my tears away, giving me a smile.

"You really shouldn't let it get you so upset, Megs."

"I know, it's j-j-just rrreally hard. It's ssso exhausting and f-f-frustrating. I g-get so angry at mmmyself."

"I know, I know. Maybe you could start up speech therapy again if it's bothering you so much. Find ways to help you through it. What do you reckon?" I shake my head slowly.