Space Man

I Don't Deserve You

Keralis’s POV

The day was everything I wanted—spending time with him, laughing at movies even though he was clearly terrified by them, and just being close to him. His presence was comforting in a way I couldn’t explain. I found myself smiling at the way his face lit up when we shared little moments, even in the midst of his discomfort.

But as the day wore on, that creeping feeling gnawed at me. I didn’t deserve this. I didn’t deserve his forgiveness or his warmth, his patience, or his gentle smile. Every time I caught sight of his face, his beautiful, soft expression, a wave of guilt washed over me. I couldn’t shake the feeling that I was a horrible person.

I had been cold, distant, and angry, pushing him away when all he wanted was to help. I had hurt him, and yet here he was, so kind, still giving me a chance, still standing by me. I didn’t deserve him—someone so perfect, so caring. And that thought made the pit in my stomach grow even deeper. How could I have been so blind, so stupid?

I wanted to believe that I was worthy of his affection, but deep down, I couldn’t shake the doubt. He was everything I could never be—gentle, kind, strong—and I felt like I was nothing compared to him

By dinner time, I guess I hadn't been doing a good job of hiding the shift in my mood. I thought I could just push through it, but the guilt was eating at me, and I felt like it was written all over my face. I was probably silent, distracted—he probably noticed before I even realized how obvious it was.

Then, suddenly, his hands were on my face. I didn't even realize what was happening until he gently cupped my cheeks and tilted my head to make me look at him. His touch was warm, comforting, but I couldn't bring myself to meet his eyes at first. I tried to avoid it, thinking that if I looked away long enough, maybe the feelings of guilt would go away.

But he wasn't letting me. He was patient, persistent. "Hey," he murmured, his voice softer than I expected. "What’s going on? Talk to me."

I swallowed hard, blinking up at him, but the words didn't come. How could I explain this? How could I tell him that I didn't feel worthy of all the care and kindness he was giving me? How could I tell him that the thought of hurting him again terrified me more than anything?

He didn’t seem to mind my silence, though. Instead, he kept holding my face, making sure I couldn’t look away. He waited for me, like he always did—calm, gentle.

“Hey, it’s okay,” he said softly, his thumb brushing across my cheek. “Whatever it is, we can talk about it. I’m not going anywhere, alright?”

And there it was. That quiet, simple reassurance that he was still here. Still with me.

"I don't deserve you, Shishwammy..." I said quietly, my voice barely above a whisper. My hands moved up to gently hold his, pulling them away from my cheeks despite how much I didn’t want to lose the warmth of his touch. "I shouldn't have stayed mad at you for that long, and I don't deserve your forgiveness so easily."

The words felt like they were scraping out of my chest. Every time I looked at him, the guilt just got heavier. I couldn’t understand why he put up with me, why he was so patient, so kind—even when I didn’t deserve it. He should’ve given up on me, but here he was, standing in front of me with those soft, understanding eyes.

I looked down, my hands still holding his, and felt my throat tighten. I wanted to explain myself, but the emotions were a tangled mess. I just wanted to make sure he was okay, but somehow, I had ended up clinging to him, needing him in ways I couldn’t quite understand.

And then there was his face, his stupidly gorgeous face. It was infuriating how someone could be so beautiful and kind all at once. Maybe that’s why I was getting so emotional—because I knew I didn’t deserve any of it. Or maybe I was just hungry. That could be it. Emotional because I hadn’t eaten properly, though that felt like a problem for later.

“Hey,” he said, his voice calm and steady. He stepped closer, his hands still clasped in mine. “You do deserve forgiveness. And you do deserve me.”

I blinked, caught off guard by his words. How could he say that so simply, like it was a fact? I opened my mouth to protest, but he cut me off before I could speak.

“Listen to me, K,” he said firmly but gently. “Nobody’s perfect. I don’t need you to be perfect. I just need you to be here, with me. And I forgave you because I wanted to, not because you asked for it. So stop beating yourself up over this, okay?”

I felt my chest tighten again, but this time it wasn’t guilt. It was something softer, something that made the corners of my lips twitch upward just slightly. I nodded, even though I wasn’t entirely convinced.

"You're way too good to me, Shishwammy," I murmured, squeezing his hands lightly.

“And you’re too hard on yourself,” he replied with a small smile. “Now, how about we finish dinner before we both start crying, huh?”

I couldn’t help but let out a quiet laugh at that, shaking my head as I followed him back to the table. Maybe I didn’t understand why he cared so much, but for now, I was just grateful that he did.

After that whole moment, it was like my entire mood flipped. The heaviness that had been pressing on me all day suddenly felt lighter. He had that effect on me, pulling me out of my own head without even trying. It was like he was this constant, steady magnet, drawing me back to a better place every time I drifted too far into self-doubt.

I caught myself smiling as I watched him move around, his usual ease and charm making everything feel... lighter. It was in the way he hummed softly under his breath while setting up the table again, the way he glanced over at me with a slight grin like he was silently checking to make sure I was okay.

And of course, I wasn’t taking Xavier's advice about not falling for him. That ship had sailed long ago. How could I not fall for him? He was a dumb idiot, just like me. Maybe that’s why we clicked so well.

It was in the little things—the way he would absentmindedly touch my shoulder when he walked by, or how he always seemed to know exactly what I needed without me even saying a word. He wasn’t perfect, far from it, but that made him all the more... real.

As we sat back down to eat, I found myself leaning closer to him without even realizing it. He noticed, of course—he always noticed—and gave me a little nudge with his elbow, smirking at me like he’d caught me doing something embarrassing.

“What?” I asked, raising an eyebrow at him.

“Nothing,” he replied, his grin widening. “You’re just staring at me like I hung the moon or something.”

I felt my face heat up, and I quickly turned my attention back to my plate. “You wish, Shishwammy.”

“Don’t I?” he teased, chuckling softly.

And just like that, everything felt normal again. He was my idiot, and I was his. Maybe we were both dumb in our own ways, but somehow, we balanced each other out. He kept me grounded, and I… well, I hoped I did the same for him.