What's home, if not the first place you run away from? What's love, if not that unexplainable, blazing feeling which comes after a period of hate?
Reputable for her catchy appearance, her over-niceness, her obsession with cartoon animations and her...
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Westlife - Somebody Needs You.
♣️
YOU ARE, MR. ASH. Especially at apologizing.
Now it's not my papa's words resounding in my god-damn mind, it's hers.
Fuck. It's true.
She's right. I haven't exactly apologized to her for those three months of making her life hellish for my sadistic pleasure. All I've occupied myself with is giving her a grand gesture. I've been too caught up in what to get her and how to spend on her, that I haven't even paid attention to the apology part, and that's the part that apparently matters the most to her. Howfucking stupid of me.
I thought I was being nice to her, showing her how sorry I am, by telling her friends to get her stuff. When I heard it from her perspective yesterday however, I realized how much of an asshole I've been. A consistent one.
Christ, I suck at this shit.
Mama was right. Maybe if I didn't have money, I'd probably know how to treat a lady and make up for treating said lady like shit, because then, I'd actually pay attention to her instead of waving my black card in her face like it'll fix everything.
Movements from my MacBook catch my fleeting attention and snap me out of my thoughts. I look at the screen, sharpening my focus and pausing the movie.
Lake Laogai. Season 2, Episode 17 of Avatar. At least I'm getting somewhere. I watched the show throughout my alone time on my jet. I mean, it was either that or waking her up so I can lay the wood again.
And God, did I want to. I stared at her as she slept, with a hard cock, contemplating and fucking contemplating sliding into bed behind her just to fuck her again and again. But somehow I knew she wouldn't want that. I knew she needed to rest, I'd already been too hard on her.
Apparently so rough, I hurt her.
When I heard her sobs, the heady feeling of highness disappeared and became replaced with something...tangy.
I didn't even realize when or how that apology slipped out of my lips, or when—or why the fuck—I wrote it down on that piece of paper.
I guess I just didn't want another red tick from her.
Fuck, I don't want anything except to get on her good side.
I don't want to see her cry anymore. I've already damaged her enough. Now, I want to fix her up. I want to gather all those pieces left of what I broke and patch them up so that...so that what? So that she'll be happy.
