𝐒𝐎𝐔𝐋 𝐅𝐀𝐓𝐄𝐃

23

Song:
i feel it coming- the weeknd
slowed + reverb

LEENA

By the time I was out of the bathroom, Angel had already returned.

I make my way to the bed, where he's lying on his side with his back turned to me. Slipping under the covers, I inch closer until I'm positioned behind him.

My hand hovers over his back and I hesitantly press it against the soft material of his shirt. "Angel?"

He responds with a soft hum, "Hm?" I could tell he was trying to keep his emotions bottled up, but that was the last thing I wanted from him-especially with me. 

"Talk to me," I murmur softly, yearning for the moment he feels ready to let me in and share what's on his mind.

After a couple of seconds, he turns around to face me, his arm resting underneath his head on the pillow. "Do you think I'm selfish for wanting him to get better?" He focuses his attention onto his gray shirt that I'm wearing. "Because I feel selfish."

I almost wanted to laugh at what he was saying. How on earth could he possibly be selfish for wanting to see his own father get better?

"Of course not. Why would you ever think you're being selfish?" It pained me to know he believed his feelings were a sign of selfishness.

He pauses for a moment, as if weighing his words carefully. "He doesn't believe he can get better. He's convinced that things won't change, but I want him to. More than anything, I want him to get better." His voice is thick with emotion, the frustration and longing evident in every word.

A couple of seconds go by before he continues. "It's my fault that he's like this."

My lips curve downward into a frown. "What do you mean?" I ask, wanting to know why he believed that it was his fault.

I watch as his eyes start to well up with tears. He tries to hold them back by swallowing, but it's clear that it isn't enough to stop them from falling.

Tears start to silently trail down his face, and a sharp pang of empathy shoots through my chest, tightening around my heart. Without thinking, I softly reach out, my voice quiet but insistent. "Come here." I pull gently at his arm, urging him closer.

Slowly, he moves toward me, his body trembling slightly as he lowers his head and tucks it into the crook of my neck. The warmth of his breath against my skin sends a rush of protective instinct through me, and I hold him there, letting the quiet of the moment speak louder than the words ever could.

I bring my hand to his hair, my fingers gently running through the strands as I message his scalp. "It's okay, let it out. Let it all out," I murmur softly.

My voice seems to reach him, and I feel his body shake even more, a silent confirmation that he's hearing me, that he's letting go of the emotions he's been holding in.

His arm wraps around my waist, pulling me impossibly closer.

I cherish every second of the embrace, scared that he'll close back up again. I don't want him to put his guard back up.

After about fifteen minutes, he finally begins to settle. His body loosens, the tension melting away, and the sharp, uneven breaths soften into quiet sniffles and occasional hiccups.

I know now's not the time, but gosh, he's so fucking adorable.

Even though curiosity burned within me, urging me to ask more questions, I forced myself to hold back. It was clear he wasn't in the right frame of mind to offer any answers, and pressing him further would only make things worse.

So, I chose to let it go.

His hand instinctively tightens its grip on the fabric of the shirt I'm wearing-his shirt-and a soft laugh escapes my lips.

The gesture is so endearing, so unintentionally sweet, that I can't help but smile. "You're so cute," I say softly, my voice filled with warmth. The way he clings to me, as if I'm his anchor in the storm, tugs at my heart in ways I can't fully explain.

He speaks into my neck. "Don't call me cute." His tone carries a hint of annoyance, which only makes me laugh harder. How did he expect me to not call him cute when he acted as such?

He pulls his head back to meet my gaze, his lips pressing into a firm line. "This isn't a joke. I mean it."

I place my hand on his face, gently squishing his cheeks until his lips form an adorable pout. "This isn't a joke. I mean it," I tease, mimicking his tone with a playful grin in an attempt to cheer him up. A chuckle escapes me as I take in the expression on his face.

"Leena Nightingale, fuck up one more time and you'll see what happens." It's not the tone of his voice that makes me freeze in my spot, but it's the fact that he knows my last name.

Shock flashes across my face as I lock eyes with him. "What did you just say?" I ask, needing to be certain I heard him right.

I never told him my last name. I know we talk over text, but I guess the conversation just never came up.

Embarrassing, I know right?

Anyway, I only knew his last name because I had been nosy enough to ask one of his friends while casually snooping around.

He realizes his mistake and his mouth shuts. I sit up on the bed, my humor gone. He also senses the change, seeing how he sits up as well. "How do you know my last name, Angel?" My brows knit in confusion. "Are you stalking me?"

Look who's talking.

When he remains silent, refusing to offer me any kind of response, my patience begins to wane. I raise an eyebrow and speak again, my tone more insistent this time. "Hello? Did you not hear me? I know I'm not just talking to myself here."

He lets out a sigh, his voice barely above a whisper. "I asked Lilith," he mumbles, the words almost lost in the quiet. I tilt my head and cup my hand behind my ear, pretending not to catch it. "Sorry, what was that? I didn't quite hear you."

It made me extremely happy that he was curious enough about me to ask one of my friends for my last name.

"I'm not gonna repeat myself, Lenny."

That nickname. God, it's so adorable. He's so adorable.

Overwhelmed by a surge of cuteness aggression, a wide grin spreads across my face as I lunge at him, tackling him onto the mattress. He tumbles back with little resistance, caught completely off guard.

"You're just too adorable," I say, wrapping my arms securely around his waist and pulling him against me. He lets out a sigh, clearly resigning himself to my embrace.

"Whatever," he mutters.

THEYRE SO FREAKING CUTE OMG 🥹

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