‴ Wild Flower

seven

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part seven
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I STOOD IN THE PAINT AISLE, my fingers grazing over the swatches of color while my mind was undoubtedly somewhere else. Me and Tristan went to some errands to the apartment, something i loved doing.

The pleasant excitement that should have accompanied the decision was overshadowed by thoughts of bank statements and financial responsibilities.

Tristan stood a few feet away, his brow furrowed in concentration as he examined a strip of earthy tones. He was so sure, so confident. It was easy for him to relish this moment, and i just couldn't.

"What do you think?" He called over, holding up a light taupe that captured the light beautifully.

"It's nice," i replied, my voice faint, almost drowned out by the neon buzz of the overhead lights.

He tilted his head slightly, gauging my expression.
"I thought this one might be good for the living room." He stepped closer, his enthusiasm palpable,

The oppressive worry didn't leave my mind.
It's true that i did a few things. But the modeling gigs i picked sometimes and the few times i was waitressing wasn't enough. I couldn't even pay my classes alone.

"I just," i began, i thought about how to express my thoughts without sounding ungrateful or needy. "It's a lot, Tristan. We need to talk about it, I don't want to be a burden to you, you understand?" I wasn't sure if that even made sense. I wanted to explain myself more, i truly did.

Tristan's reaction was immediate,"Grace, leave that," he interrupted, his voice firm but not unkind.

The way he cut me off stung more than i expected.

"Okay," i murmured, the word falling from my lips like a pebble into a deep well. I forced myself to focus on the choices in front of me, but my mind was elsewhere.

I needed to talk to him about it, needed to express how grateful i was for his support while also revealing my vulnerability.

He looked so put together, so capable with his serious job and seemingly endless determination. It felt like he had the world in his hands.

When we finally settled on a benjamin moore gentle cream for the kitchen, i allowed myself a smile that i hoped looked genuine. I wanted to believe that everything would be okay—that my worries were just fleeting whispers meant to be ignored.

But I couldn't ignore how quickly he was dropping it.

"Are you mad at me?" I hesitated, he crossed his arms, his brow furrowing tighter. "Why would you think that?" frustration etched into his features.
"It's seems like you do." I whispered, and that's another thing that often happened to me with him.

That's when i first realized I'm still too sensitive.

I thought that finishing school would somehow harden me. That i don't have this reason to my vulnerability.

But the moment Tristan shot me the smallest look of anger, my heart felt like it shattered.

Everything hurt me, and i hated it. That indicated weakness. The thought that i might forever be this fragile being, at the mercy of others' tempers and moods, gnawed at me.

"I'm just being realistic. We have to think about those things too," i said, avoiding his gaze. Tristan sighed, his shoulders relaxing slightly as he turned to face me more fully. "And i will. You don't have to worry about
that."  In one sentence he showed me his intentions.

I knew that he got that, I'm not making much, and that's something pretty obvious for a nineteen year old girl who don't have a permanent job.

We got in his car, driving all the way back to Cambridge. I was still processing im leaving this place, even though London was not so far away.
This city was special. In every way possible.

"I'm okay with whatever you do. I don't want this tension just because money." I sensed an unwanted tension. Unwanted from me, if that's matters.

"I want you to know that i know what I'm doing, you don't need to worry about things like that."

"Okay. Whatever you say." I raised my smile, i wanted to satisfy him, and keep this good energy we've had.

He grabbed my head as he was driving, leaving a soft kiss on my hair, i smile as return, knowing the subject was still in the air, but for now i needed to let go.

✧ ˚ 　· 　　 .

We returned to Tristan's apartment, i sat on the couch, Tristan's head gently resting on my lap. He was so close that i could feel the warmth of his breath on my thighs. He was working on his phone, then fell asleep.

My fingers instinctively began to play with his hair as i looked down at him. He looked peaceful.
I still thought about that conversation with him,
About how quickly i had given up.

A part of me wanted to voice my concerns, it's true.
It's just that, i wanted to keep that peace.
I didn't want to upset him. Instead, i said whatever, and let him kiss my hair as the end of the conversation.

I leaned down slightly, brushing my lips against his forehead, i felt the warmth of his skin beneath my lips.

I knew one day I'll have to speak up. To be a part of this connection, and really say what's on my mind,

But for now, i allowed myself not to.
To let him handle things, and just agree.

And i knew it was bad. That was the worst part.

The next day i planned on going to get everything from my parents home. But i was too afraid.

Afraid of making it real, of really leaving.

That started to get serious, and that made me think.
Maybe it was too fast? Maybe i rushed it all?

I knew i didn't do all of this for nothing.
I wanted it, and i wanted Tristan. But i was nervous.

I started feeling like losing control again, and that feeling felt like it's eating my soul, without me noticing.

It wasn't a nice little thing anymore, it was serious.
It was moving in with a man, leaving all behind.
Leaving my home, my family, my twin brother.

I sacrificed everything for Tristan, i was hoping, this time, i was doing the right thing.

For once i wanted to make good choices, not ones who will ruin my life. Like i used to do.