I'm safe with him
Warning! This chapter does contain descriptions of self-harm, so please don't read this if you'll be affected. <3
"This smells so good, baby," George exclaims as his arms wrap around me from behind. Melting into his warmth, I let myself smile and turn my head slightly to nuzzle into his neck.
I bring my attention back to the stir fry so I don't accidentally overcook it. Stirring the food around gently, I notice that George starts swaying to the music coming from the radio and I sway along with him. At times like this, I know I'll be okay. It's not been long since we started dating, but I feel safe with him.
I serve the food for us both, placing myself opposite George and wait for him to take the first bite. I bite my lip as I wait for his approval.
"Mmm," George moans, "tastes good!" I feel a bit relieved. I know it's only a stir fry and it should be simple to make but this guy is used to food being cooked by top chefs so I don't want to disappoint. I offer him a smile and dig in.
Most of the meal is spent with George telling me about a meeting he had yesterday. He's so cute when he's this passionate; I adore him. And before I know it, we've both finished and George is beginning to clear the table.
"I've got it!" I say, rushing to the sink so I can begin washing up.
"Well if you're washing, then I'm drying," he says, picking up the towel hung near the sink.
I instinctively roll my sleeves up and start washing our plates, the cutlery and the pans. We get into a rhythm and the chore is almost finished when George stops moving. I turn to face him but he's not looking at me, I can't quite make out what he's looking at. He holds a plate in his hand, towel in the other, but he's just staring. I follow his gaze slowly. And the sudden realisation sets in. I rolled my sleeves up.
I drop the fork and sponge I'm holding back into the sink, barely noticing the splash and mess they make. My hands are wet, soaps drips off me, but I pull my sleeves down as fast as I can. George too sets down the plate and towel, slowly. The silence is absolutely killing me. I have to think of an excuse. Some way out of this. THINK.
"I need the toilet," I say and turn to escape from the silence invading the space between us.
"Y/N..." George starts, one of his hands gripping my good arm gently. I close my eyes, draw in a breath. I can't run from him. It's too late. He's already seen.
Slowly turning my body towards him, I keep my gaze towards the floor, feeling heat rise to my cheeks and tears pool in my eyes. He removes his grip and places his hand on my chin instead, lifting my head up so he can see me fully.
"It's okay," his voice is barely a whisper. His touch is soft. His presence is calm. "Let's go and sit down," he says, but he doesn't wait for a response, he just guides me to the sofa.
He sits down and carefully guides me to sit next to him. My body faces forwards, arms folded, rigid compared to his open, welcoming posture. I open my mouth to say something but no words come out. This is surely going to be the end of us. Why would he want to deal with me? The mess that I am?
"You don't have to say anything right now, but I want you to know that I'm here for you and I'm not going to leave until I know you're okay," he said.
We sit there for a few moments as I take in his words and stew them over. He's not going to leave. I clutch my arms around my chest even tighter. It doesn't matter if he doesn't leave, I can't let him see it again.
"Let me see," he says, gentle but firm at the same time. He can see I'm making no effort to move my arms, so instead he grips them and slowly starts to extend them. I let him, but I also I let the tears begin to roll down my face.
"It's so ugly, I'm sorry," I manage to mutter and I shake my head, still refusing to make eye contact with him.
"No, baby. Don't be sorry," he reassures me. And then he leans down and places kisses down my forearm, leaving one kiss per cut. Then he twists himself round further so he can see my face and kisses the tears that roll down my blushed cheeks. And I feel the shame, the guilt, the resentment towards myself, I feel it all dissolve inside me. Well, not all of it, but enough to make me turn to finally face him and look him in the eyes.
I still don't have the words to explain it all to him right now, but I can't deny how safe I feel in his presence. He releases my marked arms, allowing me to instead wrap them around his neck. He pulls me into his slap and kisses the top of my head. Each kiss he leaves is like an injection of calmness.
"I-I..." begin, looking up at him, but he shakes his head and places yet another kiss, on my forehead this time.
"You don't have to explain right now, baby. We can talk about it later, I just want to make sure you're okay right now."
Nobody has ever made me feel this accepted before. It makes me begin to cry all over again. George holds me close, his arms strong, his grip warm and soothing.
"Let's go to bed and cuddle. We can watch films and eat chocolate," he suggests whilst standing up, still holding me in his arms.
"Chocolate?" I ask, a hint of excitement in my voice.
"Of course, baby. Anything you want," he says, smiling down at me, carefully bringing me to the bedroom.
After a few quick moments, I'm in my pjs and George is in his boxers, ready to snuggle next to me. He's already turned on the TV and grabbed some chocolate from not-so-secret stash. Leaning over me, one hand on either side of my head, he places a kiss on my lips, slowly and softly. I melt into him and wrap my arms around him. I'm wearing a short sleeved pyjama shirt. No need for long sleeves anymore.
