Always

18 : I'm sorry.

He steps out of the bathroom, drying his hair with a towel, flexing his veiny, muscular hands in the process. Grey sweatpants hang low, showcasing the perfect V-line, shirtless, might I add. Good lord, he has the body of a Greek god. He drops the towel and notices me, shocked, yet maintains his stone-cold expression. He didn't think I would stay.

His damp hair falls perfectly around his chiselled face
"What do you want, Ivy?" he says, going back inside to put on a shirt probably. Okay, first of all, ouch, it's Storm, you idiot. You don't get to call me Ivy.
"Answers," I say, following him inside the closet.
"Well, then too bad you're not getting any. Leave."
The urge to kill him is getting really strong right now.

"What did I do?" I ask, choosing to ignore his comment. He scoffs loudly.
"You don't even know what you said," he says, putting on a shirt while leaving the room, so I follow. Since when do you follow boys or ask them what you did wrong, Ivy Kennedy? What the fuck is actually wrong with you?

"So now I know that it's something I said. Okay, good work. Now I just need to know what."
He turns back and looks at me like I'm insane.
"Just leave. It doesn't matter," he says.
Now it's my turn to scoff.
"Listen, I'm not leaving till you tell me what's wrong, and I'm not going anywhere until you do, and I'm gonna keep rambling absolute bullshit until you do."

He doesn't reply and starts walking downstairs.
"And where the fuck did 'I won't annoy you' come from? I never said anything like that, an-"
He stops walking and turns around. I didn't, since I was looking away, causing me to bump into his chest.
He takes a deep breath.

"Leave, Ivy."

He starts walking again. Just sit the fuck down already.
"I will when you tell me what I said to make you mad."
He enters the kitchen and places a pan on the stove.

"You know I'm trying to have a fucking conversation with you like an adult person, and you-" He turns around and stares me dead in the eye. He crosses his hands on his chest.
"Finish your sentence," he says, taking a step
closer, and I take one back. Not because I'm scared of him. I trust him enough, but again, I've always trusted the wrong people.
"Just tell me what I said."

He takes a deep breath, his face unreadable.
"Being with him for show is the last thing I'd ever want to do. It's insulting to me."
He says each word slowly. That's when realization hits me; it all made sense why he was upset. He doesn't know the reason I said that. Taking a step closer, I try to take one back but get stuck as I feel the counter behind me. I look up to see his piercing gaze and quickly look away. Hearing those words, "Oh, that, it's just-" How the hell do I explain my sob story to him now?

"You know what, you're right. It doesn't matter," I say and try to leave, but he takes one step towards me and keeps his hands on the counter, caging me in the middle. He scoffs.
"I'm afraid it doesn't work like that. You had your chance to leave, you didn't. Now you get to leave when I say you get to leave," he says with a serious face, but my eyes get stuck on his lips, which were just inches away, and his eyes. His fucking eyes .I get fucking lost in them. I
gulp, looking away, but he pulls my chin up gently yet with force.
"So tell me, which one is it? You find me annoying? Is it personal? Something I said? Is it because you don't want to be seen in the media with me because that might ruin your image, or you just hate me for no reason?" he asks, maintaining eye contact.

"None of those," I reply with just as piercing a gaze as his. He looks away a second later.
"Answer, Ivy. I need answers."
He picks me up and puts me on the counter so we are at the same level. How the fuck did he pick me up so easily?
"I'm fat, you know. You can't just casually pick me up."

"If you think you're fat, you should get your eyes checked. You weigh just as much as a piece of paper. Now answer."
I take a deep breath before starting.
"Kaiden. The guy we met that day. My ex. I met him through his sister. He was new to the industry, but I didn't really care about the fame. I never do. We started dating a month into the relationship, and he um-" I swallow the lump in my throat for the upcoming words.

"He cheated on me. He begged me to take him back. When I didn't, he got frustrated and told me that the real reason he started dating me was because he, um, he wanted fame and to get into my pants, of course, but fame was the main reason. It wasn't public yet, so it didn't really happen, but he just wanted to use me. And when they suggested I fake date you for fame, I got triggered because, never in my fucking life, am I about to use anyone for a couple of likes. "

" But it wasn't just anybody in question; it was you. And I would rather burn my whole life down than use you. You're too special for that. I tend to speak things that might hurt others in anger, another reason why I prefer being alone when I'm angry, but I never meant to make you feel bad. I'm sorry, Luca," I say, looking through my glassy eyes. Blinking fast, making sure no tears escape my eyes.

I look up at him, and he looks like he's about to say something but is suppressing himself. He passes me a tissue, and I wipe my eyes.

"What? Say it.".
"You think I'm special," he says in a childlike voice, making me immediately laugh.
"I shared the whole damn story, and that's what you caught on?" I shrug. He pulls me close by my legs and hugs me tightly. He takes my hands that were on the countertop and wraps them around his torso.

"I don't bite," he says, and I smile, knowing he can't see me. I release a sigh of relief. I don't know what home or warmth feels like, but this feels close to that. For the first time, I actually don't want a hug to end. You've got insane Ivy Kennedy, I swear to God.
"Also, you called me 'Luca.'"
"Lucas. I meant my Lucas," I say, but my voice comes out muffled. He steps away, and I instantly miss his warmth.
"I like it either way," he says, shrugging, and I roll my eyes.

"Of course, you do."
"Um, I'm gonna go now."
"No, you won't. You'll leave after lunch."
What in the world?
"I'm making pasta. You're gonna eat and then go."
"Oh, um, thank you, but I'm not really hungry."
"It's 2 in the afternoon, Storm. You cannot not be hungry. Just stay."
Never has a nickname ever given me such a relief. I nod at him, and he keeps the pasta on the stove to boil.

"You know, h-" his phone rings, cutting me off.
"Hello, yes, Max."
"Uhh."

I remove my coat as he is talking.
"Are you sure?"
What happened? He looks so serious on the call, which makes me scared.
"Um, okay, we'll discuss the details later."
He cuts the call and zones out on the gas stove, his face void of any emotions.

"Lyn, is everything okay?"
He snaps out of his daydream.
"I got it," he says, making me confused. He walks towards my direction, still in deep thoughts.

"The fashion week that is happening in Paris, in like four months."
Shit. I completely forgot about that part. I need to eat double. Fuck.
"What about it?"
"I got a solo performance there."

My eyes widen as soon as I hear that.
"Lyn, that's amazing. Only a few singers have done solo performances there. This is big," I say, and he gets more excited.
"In a week, there is a live show that I'm performing in New York for the first time in two years. Will, um, will you come?" he asks nervously.

"Of course, I'll come," I say, and he hugs me from the side , burying his face in the crook of my neck.
"Luca , the pasta "
"oh shit"

x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

Do vote and comment <3
K. Byeee
Xoxoxoxo