He's a Fanboy?!

He is Forgiven

writing this physically pained me but i hope there is some (if any) satisfaction you get out of this

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dedicated to the beautiful @LittleGirlBigWorldx for encouraging my return to wattpad as brief as this may possibly be 

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"I forgive you," I say cautiously, hearing him let out a long breath in relief. When I turn to look at him, he is grinning. A genuine Brayden smile. I didn't realize how much I'd missed it.

Some part of me is inevitably upset that I am not going to let it last.

I open and close my fists in my lap and chew my lip to distract myself from my own emotions. The buildings ahead grow bigger in the distance.

I want to stop fighting with him and I want to see my father and I want to cry and I want to drive forever and I want to be at his grave already and I want to tell Brayden how I felt (feel?) and I want my brain to shut up and I want to yell at the universe and I want to be happy.

But I don't know how to do that.

"But we're not friends, Brayden. I don't have to talk to you and I have the right to avoid you. You're forgiven. You're not accepted into my life again."

The sky is clearing, rain subsiding, sunlight poking through. The heat is evident. I hate it, I hate it desperately, because it is such a misrepresentation of my current mood. It is a mirror of my desired self, one that wants to exist but cannot, at least not now.

"You know," Brayden says quietly. "I don't know what I expected, but this is good. This is good."

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"Don't come with me," I say, lacking as much emotion as possible. I am a collector of my own feelings, reluctant to give any away.

"I have to," Brayden states, following me out of the car and through the gates.

"No you don't."

"If you think I pity you, I don't. I pity myself, for being stupid. This is all me. This is me wanting to be selfish." I can tell that what he wants to say is to be beside you, because of the way his speech stops.

"Don't say things like that," I practically beg, walking faster.

"That's upsetting. You know, what I loved--love--most about you is that you let me say what I want." He says it desperately, like he's clawing at the edge of a cliff. I don't know if my emotions (especially the ones that want to riot after hearing the l word) are making me biased, but I hear the rawness in his voice that makes me think he isn't saying it to win 'just another girl' over. This is much more upsetting, to me, at least.

"I really don't want to make this day about us," I say evenly. I stop in my tracks and turn to look at him. For a solid three minutes, we stare each other down--testing each other, perhaps, to see who will break first.

It is dead silent.

Ugh, I really shouldn't be using that expression at this point in time.

"I promise I will not say anything else about our relationship. All I want now is to go see your dad. Nothing more," he says finally. I nod in agreement, practically trudging across the cemetery.