I woke up to the smell of burning.
And orange juice.
I bolt upright, swaying a little from sitting up so fast, and scrunched my eyes, straining them to see the figure in front of me.
"Oh!" Adam's face lit up, "you're awake! See, I was trying to make breakfast, eggs and toast, but you know, I can't cook and I ended up burning it all. But I poured you some orange juice!"
I couldn't help but smile at the way he triumphantly held up the glass of orange liquid in victory, as if that showed he hadn't completely failed.
I walked over, slowly took the glass out of his hand, and set it carefully on the edge of my wooden dining table. My eyes shifted back to Adam, then the burning mess in my stove, and the smoke wafting from my toaster. I made my way over to his slender body, wrapped my arms around his muscular stomach, and pressed my lips to his cheek.
I hadn't spoken a word yet this morning, but I didn't need to. At this point, I was just so content. I honestly didn't know how else to explain it, except that I had a warm feeling in my stomach like the one you get after drinking hot chocolate, and a permanent smile on my face.
All because of this one boy.
But, oh;
What a marvelous one he was. I looked him over, and sighed happily knowing that him staying the night, trying to make me breakfast, all of it meant he was mine. All mine.
This wonderful boy with the brown hair that stuck up all over the place.
The one with the warm, milky chocolate eyes and kind, embracing smile with perfectly straight, white teeth besides the one that was a bit crooked on the left top.
The one I'd been patiently waiting to have, for oh-so-many years.
In other words, Adam.
I could tell, even after so little time of knowing him, about a month and a half, I was completely, totally and irrevocably in love with him.
Everything about him brought a smile to my lips.
Against my hair, Adam whispered, "Good morning, beautiful."
"Good morning."
"You're wonderful, in so many ways. Especially the fact that you can probably cook, right? I'm starved," Adam couldn't be serious, but I liked it.
"Yes, I can."
"You didn't deserve any of what you used to get, do you understand that? Such a perfect person doesn't deserve any of that abuse."
But that's where he was wrong, so very wrong. It doesn't matter if you get any physical abuse, because you could be perfectly fine on the outside.
But isn't that what your parents always told you when you were little? It's what's on the inside that matters.
On the inside, your mind could be a war of thoughts and insults, all towards yourself. And the worst part?
You can't protect yourself from yourself.
*Hey! Sorry this is a very short chapter, but I tried to end it powerfully. Like it? Read, comment and vote! Thanks, love you!*
