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𝒀𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒑𝒓𝒆𝒔𝒆𝒏𝒄𝒆 𝒉𝒆𝒂𝒍𝒔 𝒎𝒆.
Reece's Perspective
"You really have no where to go?"
He looks down, playing with his fingers, and he looks so much less tough than I'm used to him looking. It's disturbing, only because I'm just not used to it. "It's not my mama's week and my papa lives too far away."
"How far away?"
"It doesn't matter. I don't want you driving me there."
"Then where are you going to go?" I say, a little harshly, which apparently boils his blood, because he looks up, eyes cold like ice, saying, "I don't f***ing know! It's not my fault no one wants..." he trails off, apparently regretting saying that much.
I stare at him, and sympathy fills me. He doesn't look up from staring at his lap. "So should I just go?" he asks.
"Go where?"
"I don't know. I'll go back to the school and get my car."
"And then what? You can't possibly sleep in your car wearing a juice-stained shirt and ragged dress clothes."
"I can. It's fine. I've done stuff like that plenty times bef-"
"Antoine!" I say, and he looks up at this sudden speaking of his name.
"Don't say my name like that..." he mutters.
"Why?"
"Because then it sounds like you f***ing care, and you f***ing don't. I have no idea what your doing here or why, but I just want you to know that if anything else happens to me, I might just kill myself."
My eyes widen, and I say, "I'm not going to do anything to you."
"You were okay with bruising me a little while ago. Why is it different now? I'm the same guy."
"You're a different person to me now. Now I see why you did all that to me. And I'm not saying it wasn't all f***ing messed up. Not at all. I'm just saying that now I see... And if you're sorry," I take one of his hands in the middle of both of mine. He flinches, trying to draw it back, but I hold on tight, and our eyes meet each other. I whisper this last part, "then I forgive you, Antoine."
"How?! After all I've f***ing done? I'm even f***ing worse than you think I am, Reece Mallory! You don't even know half of the s*** I've done!"
"Are you sorry for all that s***?"
I stares at me, eyes studying my face in something like awe and shock. "Yeah," he says softly.
"Then, even if nobody else forgives you, I do now. Because being sorry means you regret it and you'll try not to do it again."
He bites his lip, staring at me, and there's a moment of empty silence, before I suddenly pull him into a true, full hug. I wrap my arms around his back and whisper to him, "I forgive you."
He chokes on tears, trying to hold them back, and then puts his eyes into my shoulder, apparently thinking that will hide his tears, although I feel the warm salty tears on my shoulder. But I don't mind. I just hug him tighter.
Gosh, when the heck did this happen?
Never in my life did I imagine hugging Antoine Griezmann so tightly, feeling so bad for him, as he cries into my shoulder.
Yet here I am.
Sometimes strange things happen. Events turn in the oddest ways. You never expected it, but somehow, you're happy it happened.
I don't want to be anywhere else but right here, right now.
Finally, he pulls away, and wipes his tears, muttering so that I don't hear the hoarse tears in his voice, "It's been a while since anyone's ever hugged me like that."
I smile. "No it hasn't. It's been seconds ago."
And I feel a small victory as this gets just the smallest smile on his face.
"Anyway," I continue smiling. "You're gonna come home with me if you have no where else."
His eyes widen. "No way."
"Why not?"
"I can't just crash your place. That's rude. I'd never do that."
"Okay, but am I allowed to invite you over to my place?"
"Your parents would be okay with you having a guy over? A guy looking like me, too?"
I shrug, smiling. "My mom would be more than excited to learn that I actually have a friend, guy or not. We just have to come up with a fake name for you, because for years I've complained to her about how annoying Antoine Griezmann can be."
"I don't think this is okay..." he glances away.
"It's probably not, but it's better than all our other options. You can sleep on an air mattress on the floor of the room. My mum will want the door open at all times, though, to make sure, as she would put it, 'my daughter won't be getting pregnant before it's the right time.'"
Antoine lets out a dry snort at this comment, muttering, "What's my fake name, then?"
"Uh..." I giggle. "Let's think of the most basic name... Okay, Pierre Dubois. You are now Pierre Dubois. Hello, Pierre Dubois!"
He rolls his eyes, and I'm so pleased to see another smile sneak up on his lips. "Well then how do we explain the fruit punch and both of us being soaking wet and my dress clothes all crumpled and ripped, huh, Reese Mallory?"
"Uh... Homecoming gone wrong. We, uh... we're friends, and... I'll just tell her them it's a long story and that we're tired, and think up of a lie later. My family will understand. They won't try to get too much information out me."
"Seriously?" Antoine asks, looking very unsure.
"Seriously. Want to get going?"
"Not really... but go ahead." I pull the lever, and he suddenly starts stripping his shirt off.
"What are you doing?!" I blurt, a little too loudly, and he jumps.
"Just taking this thing off. As I dry, it's getting really sticky and gross with the juice on it. Is there a problem?"
I fix my eyes on the road, saying quickly, "No, sorry. There's no problem. I guess I'm just not used to having the strongest, most handsome guy in the school, who for years I've absolutely hated the guts of, sitting next to me in my car, ripping his shirt off."
