The Religious & The Damaged (UNDER EDITING)

27

Elias

  I lean back from the hug, and I meet eyes with Joseph, and pity heavily shows in his eyes.

  I look down because I hate when people feel bad for me—it somehow makes me feel worse.

  I ask, "Can you stay? For the night?" The last bit of the question is hesitant, but I truly feel that if he doesn't stay, I'll do something—and that I feel strongly about.

  He stammers shortly, but ultimately says, "My father..." His gaze falls, but I still see as he shuts his eyes and furrows his brows in a state of frustration, then he looks back up at me. "Yeah. I can stay." He says.

  I wipe my cheek with my sleeve, swiftly. "I don't want you to get in trouble because of me."

  "It won't be your fault. I can take care of myself, you shouldn't worry about me."

  I can't help but take notice to the bruise under his eye as he says that, but I only nod because I really need him here with me.

  He takes his phone from his front pocket and takes a few minutes before he shoves it back into his pocket, and he says, "Kelsey's gonna come by with some of my things later."

  He sits next to me, and I meet his eyes.

  It's silent for a long moment before he gestures out to me.

  "Nick gave me this to give to you." He says.

  I look down at his hand and take the homework. "Thank you."

  I hold it in my lap, and I feel his eyes on me, so I look at him.

  His gaze is gentle, and he seems to be deep into thought.

  I wonder what he's thinking about.

  Being this close to him makes me feel better—I want to be closer.

  I want to always be with him.

  "Can you hold me?" I ask, gentleness clear in my voice.

  He grows flustered, and it's clear in his expression that he's panicking internally. I open my mouth to take it back as he stammers, but he inhales sharply and nods.

  "You don't have to, if you don't want to." I reassure him in case he's agreeing just for me.

  "I want to." He replies, and the slight eagerness tells me he means it.

  I nod lightly and move to lay on my bed, and he follows my direction. I move close to him, and he opens his arms.

  I lay my head against his chest—his heart is racing.

  I relax in his touch as his arms settle around me.

  I feel as his chest rises and falls, following his shaky breaths and his hand moves to hold my arm that rests on his side.

  His touch is so gentle; it fills me with this warm, comforting feeling.

  My chest flutters simply at just his presence—the smell that belongs to him; I'm not sure what exactly it is, but it smells nice nonetheless.

  I look up, and he's looking at me. I let a gentle smile tug at my lips, and he does too, but he looks nervous. It's cute.

  My gaze falls to his lips.

  His grasp tightens on the sleeve of my sweater, and I find myself leaning up towards him.

  He lets out a shaky breath, and he moves back. "I can't..." He speaks in a whisper, and he sounds sad.