mona lisa , chris sturniolo

38 | you're going to be in trouble

♫ difficult / gracie abrams ♫
☆
i really think sometimes there's something that i'm missing
oh, i know spiralling is miserable
i should probably go back home
why does that feel difficult?

🍊 🍊 🍊

| real life |

real life

Sometimes I feel like I physically cannot open my mouth to speak. Shocking, I know, since usually I never shut up, but when my mind is spinning a million miles a minute and my heart feels like it's being weighed down by a brick, the act of forming words and speaking them feels impossible. So I stay quiet.

I stay quiet when the doctor comes to stitch Chris up and clears him of a concussion. I stay quiet on the drive to get a very late dinner that I no longer have an appetite for. I stay quiet when the four of us arrive home and the boys fall into an argument over what movie to watch, and I stay quiet as I curl into Chris' side on the couch, his warm body next to mine reassuring me more than anything he could say.

When the end credits of the movie roll, Chris doesn't hesitate to stand from the couch, extending his hand to silently ask me to come with him. We bid Nick and Matt goodnight and head downstairs, Chris' hand secure against my own.

I go through the motions of getting ready for bed as exhaustion rolls over me like a sudden storm, sleep calling my name. Soon enough, I slide in between Chris' sheets, his familiar smell surrounding me like a hug, bringing me a sense of both comfort and unease. Fuck, I don't want to tell him.

It doesn't take long after the sound of the shower stops that Chris is climbing into bed next to me, a yawn cracking his jaw wide as he settles under the covers.

"How's your head?" I ask quietly, my eyes fixed on Chris' outline in the dim lighting of his room.

"It's okay," Chris murmurs as he wraps his arm around my waist to tug me closer to him. "I've got a headache, but the freezing they used to stitch up the cut hasn't worn off yet, so I don't feel that pain."

"That's good." I shiver when Chris' hand slips under my shirt, his fingers brushing across my spine. I shuffle closer to him, desperately needing to feel his body against my own. I slip one of my legs between his, and don't resist when Chris draws me even closer to him to rest my head on his bare chest. With the steady beat of his heart under my ear and his warmth surrounding me like a blanket, I draw in my first deep breath of the night. Fuck, this hurts.

Chris presses a soft kiss to the top of my head, his hand rubbing a soothing pattern up and down my back. "How's your freakout?"

"I'm not freaking out," I grumble as I shift to rest my arm across Chris' stomach, erasing the last of the space between us. I smile slightly when I hear his heartbeat stutter, his hold tightening on me.

"You are definitely freaking out. Tell me what's going through your head."

I am most certainly not ready for this conversation. But perhaps some half-truths will suffice for now. "I don't know," I sigh, tilting my chin up to look at Chris. "I don't know what to do. I just feel shitty."

"Healing takes time, B. That's not a bad thing. It's okay to feel shitty sometimes." Chris brushes his hand through my hair, his eyes fixed on my own. "You told me a couple weeks ago that it wasn't hurting so bad all the time anymore, and that is progress. But sometimes things can set us back. 1 step forward, 3 steps back, you know? But you're healing, even if it is slowly. Focus on that rather than the panic you feel following a scary event."