TordTom OneShots

A Reason to Stay [Angst]

I held out hope for the longest time that maybe, just maybe, it was a mutual thing. That there was more to the sex than just sex. That beyond just being a stress reliever, he felt something deeper of me, like I did of him. I liked him. I loved him even. I do love him.

There was no easy way to bring up the topic of feelings for one another, with him. He didn't like getting into those kinds of conversations as he thought they were unnecessary and a waste of time. But I needed that clarity, that reassurance. I needed to know what our dynamic was, how close we actually were. At times I couldn't tell. So when I did eventually mention it again, the same old reaction he had each time, played out again. "Why are we talking about this?", "Not now.", "This isn't important.", "We're nothing more than fuckbuddies."

"There is nothing between us, Tord."

Was it selfish of me to want to be more than that? Maybe. He made it quite clear what his boundaries were, and I respected them as much as I could bare. The last thing I'd want is to piss him off, make him uncomfortable, ruin our relationship. Or what I attempt to call a relationship, just to make myself feel better.

Yeah. I am being selfish, aren't I?

▶▶

He cried. He cried so hard. I didn't know what else to do other than hold him. So I did. I held him tight. I could feel my hoodie begin to damp from the tears that streamed down his face, onto my shoulder. He shook violently. 

We sat on my couch together, him half naked, no shirt on while still in boxers. He came to my front door only minutes earlier, peeling his clothes off and engaging in a rough make-out session with me. I didn't know whether it was my fault or not, but as soon as he began to cry, I couldn't help but apologize anyway. Though it seemed to only make things worse. So I shut up.

As he calmed and quieted, he began to talk. At first I couldn't understand most of his mumbling. He was speaking in barely a whisper. 

But.

"Do you love me?"

He stared at me with pleading eyes and tear stained cheeks. I didn't know what to say. Was there a wrong answer? My mouth hung agape, unable to produce even a sound. Where had this come from?

"I.." was all I could muster in that moment. The atmosphere was tense, the air thick and hard to breathe through. I could hear my own heartbeat pounding in my head, in my chest. I wondered if he could hear it too.

His gaze shifted as I finally answered, "No. We hookup every once in a while, that's it." 

It seemed like the right thing to say, as it was always what he expressed. It was all he ever wanted. So why did he seem so disappointed? Or was I reading his facial expression wrong? It was always hard to tell with him.

He sat up straight soon after, grabbing his clothes off the floor that were previously thrown haphazardly. As he began to dress himself again, I stood. Certainly, I did something wrong. I wanted to say something. I needed to say something. Anything. "Tom-"

"I'm engaged." He said, matter of factly. Only then did I notice the small gold band around his finger. So shiny. How could I miss it? How long has he had it? Has he had it this whole time?

I didn't understand. I couldn't understand.

"I'm moving to Italy in a few weeks." Tom's soft voice pierced through the deafening silence. My head shot up and my eyebrows furrowed in panic. Surly this was some sick joke, right? At the time, I didn't believe what he was telling me. I wouldn't believe it.

Until he left. 

He really did leave.

That day still lingers in my mind now. Why did he ask me that question? There had to have been some deeper meaning to it. What if I were to have answered yes? Did he want my answer to be yes? His behavior was so abnormal, he was distraught. What was it he was looking for? 

For so long, I fought against the idea of ever telling him how I felt. But what if I had?

What if it would've given him a reason to stay...