Skinny Love

Chapter Two

Sorry for the long wait. If you like this, will you please go and read my new story, Fifteen? Thanks 

-M

Chapter Two

          They say that time heals all wounds. But I disagree. It’s been a day. And I still feel as raw and broken as I did when I first heard the news. Decklan Foster hasn’t left my side.

          We were bound through death. We were pushed together, though it didn’t make much difference. We always were awkward together. Even before the death. We just would sit, basking in each other’s awkward silence. There were no words to say. There were no words that even explained us. We just…were.

          Who would have known that a few seconds could drastically change your life forever? One second you’re fine, the next, you’re broken, so far so that the pieces won’t fit back together, feeling like not even forever would fill the void.

          He and I sat in my room, in our awkward silence, listening to sad indie songs. But even they didn’t help. Neither of us would say anything, or even talk. Anything we said would remind us too much of Luke.

          It came in random spurts, the crying. I’d be fine one second, and the next I’d be crying too hard to even comprehend what was going on. It was in those weak and miserable seconds that I owed to Foster. He’d just pull me into his arms and let me cry until I was blubbering and had no tears left.

          In a matter of seconds, he’d become my rock. He was like my air. I needed him as much as he needed me. We just went together, as one from then on.

          Tomorrow was the service. We’d have to walk around in black, pretending to be less broken than we actually were, having to sit through people pitying you.

          It was dark in my room, the lights off, and it being almost eleven at night. I got up, and walked over to my dresser. I got out some clothes, and went to my bathroom to slip them on.

          I slipped on the short girl boxer shorts and the baby-tee from Aeropostale. I looked in the mirror and sighed. I was a sight for sore eyes. My eyes were red and puffy. I pulled my hair back into a messy bun on top of my head so I could sleep. I brushed my teeth, and walked back out to Foster.

          I climbed into my messy bed, curling up to his side. He laid there for a few minutes, before starting to get up.

          “I better head home,” he said, his voice low and soft.

          “Will you stay? Please?” I asked. All last night, my dreams had been nightmares, haunted with loss and death. I’d ended up awake most of the night.

          He was silent for a moment, biting his lip. He ran a hand through his dark hair, and nodded.

          “Thank you,” I smiled a broken smile. He pulled off his t-shirt, his perfect sculpted abs showing. He unbuckled his belt and slipped them off, revealing a pair of gray boxer-briefs. He climbed into my bed next to me, wrapping his arms around me.

          “I didn’t peg you for a boxer-brief person,” I mumbled into his chest.

          “Yeah?” he said, his voice hinting a chuckle, “What’d you peg me for?”

          “I don’t know,” I shrugged. He kissed my forehead, and I fell asleep in his warm, strong arms.

---