Matches: Why We Burned Out

fifteen // kiss me better

After Romeo left my place a few days ago, things have been a little awkward. The only good thing that came out of that night was the fact that he didn't have to worry about not knowing enough about me. We didn't have sex. He said he wanted it to be special.

It's Friday night and he's invited me over to his house for our first sleepover. I was discharged from the hospital last Saturday, so it's been a week since I told him I was ready to... you know... do the deed. We haven't talked about it since.

I'm watching him paint in his minimalistic white art studio. He hasn't said much. I sigh, sitting cross-legged on the floor. "Why did you invite me here?" I ask. Romeo continues to paint, stroking the brush along the canvas rather than answering my question.

"Felt lonely."

His answer reminds me of when I first met him and he didn't want me around. It's so short and snappy, and it makes me feel unwanted. I press my lips together and walk towards the door. As I open it, Romeo calls me back.

"Wait," he says, causing me to turn around. I groan internally and raise my eyebrows, gesturing for him to proceed. "Are you okay?" His eyes seem concerned and he finally takes a break from his painting.

"Yeah. Just gonna take a shower," I tell him plainly, quickly exiting the room. I collect my wash bag from the boy's bedroom and walk into his en suite, locking the door behind me. I stare at my reflection in the mirror as I tie my hair into a bun. "He does want you. He does."

I have to convince myself that Romeo's not bored of me yet, because the way he's been acting made me feel like maybe he was bored of me. I slip off my clothes and step into the shower, waiting patiently for the water to warm up. The hot water hits my body.

Once I'm done, I step out of the shower and dry myself off. My eyes catch sight of one of Romeo's t-shirts on the side. As I begin to dress up I hear a knock at the door. "Mia?"

I pull his shirt over my head. "What?"

"Are you mad at me?" he asks. I can see the shadow of his feet beneath the door. I take the hair tie out of my hair and run my fingers through my long locks.

"Yeah, I'm mad at you." I moisturise my face. Romeo sighs.

"I'm sorry, petal. I've got a lot on my mind," he defends himself.

"Oh yeah, like what? Anything but me?" I argue, leaning over the sink. I look up and stare at my reflection in the mirror again. My eyes look tired.

"I can only explain if you open the door," he says, playing with the door handle. I stare at the door for a while before deciding what to do.

"No." I sit myself down on the bathroom counter. "It's not like you want me around anyway."

"What made you think that?" he asks, as if he's completely oblivious to how he treated me in the art studio. I wait for him to figure it out for himself. "I know I've been a little distant--"

"A little distant? You made me feel like you've suddenly become bored of me!" I interrupt as I storm towards the door and begin to unlock it. "I was this close to hating myself because I couldn't make you happy!" I fling the door open. "A little distant is an understatement--"

Placing his hand on the back of my neck, Romeo kisses me tenderly, cutting off my next sentence. As much as I want to shove him off me and slap him hard across the face, I can't pull away. I find myself passionately kissing him back, my arms being hung around his neck. His large hands hold my waist close to him. My mind wanders until I realise why I shouldn't just let him kiss me like that. My hands slide down to his chest and I push him off me.

"What are you doing? You can't just kiss it better," I yell, folding my arms. He presses his lips together.

"You're right, I can't," he hums lowly, scratching the back of his neck nervously, "I'm sorry, petal. You don't deserve any of this." He backs away from me as he tugs on the ends of his hair. He sighs as he sits down on his bed.

My wall breaks while I watch him. "What's wrong?"

"My mom keeps working endless hours even though she has cancer. Four months until she dies. And she decides to spend them working. It doesn't make sense." He pauses to collect his thoughts. "I don't want her to die. I love her."

My heart breaks as I watch the boy emptily stare down at his hands. I place myself on his lap and press my lips meaningfully onto his cheek. I feel a smile appearing on his face.

"That's a nice t-shirt you got on," he jokes, brightening the mood slightly. I giggle faintly while I get into his bed. He does the same. "You can keep it if you want. You model it well." I blush.

"Oh, shut up, angel face," I retort, hiding my blushing face with my hair.

"Most people would say 'thank you'," he responds sarcastically. I lightly hit his arm.

"I'm not most people."

***

Okay, I just need to clear some stuff up. If something happens in this story and you don't like it, don't just stop reading it. Not everything can be perfect in life and I'm trying to make this book as realistic as possible. If you didn't notice, the title of this SHORT story is 'Matches: Why We Burned Out' so obviously things are gonna go wrong? But lol don't hate me for it. Thank you.

— sarah xox