Outlaws // Taron Egerton

Thirty-Four

IDRIS

     I nervously play with Taron's fingers, draping his arm around me. Contemplating about what happened today, and what might happen tomorrow. Overthinking is never helpful, and though conscious about my actions and thoughts, here I am.

     Taron said to trust him, and here I am again being doubtful. I'm always caught by him telling me to trust him and that he's got me, and it, at times, gets a bit irritating that he is making it seem like I'm not allowed to even have the slightest hint of mistrust, but maybe I'm just misinterpreting this whole situation. Taron only means well and I know it. Taron only wants it fair.

     Still, I bet this is something I must open up, but he's dealing with much more nowadays with this exploded issue, so I decide to just keep it to myself until everything with Mia has simmered down already. It might take a while, it might be sooner than expected, but I have to note it to myself: don't explode, keep your patience until this dilemma ends, don't explode, try to understand. Besides, understanding is a major requirement in a relationship.

     I hear him moan before roughly pulling me close in a tight embrace that my face almost plunged into his chest. "Taron," I muffle. "Too tight."

     From here I know that he's awake and he knows what he's doing because of the smirk on his face when I look up. Now he's pulling me into a tighter hug. I squeak involuntarily and he laughs. "Aww."

     "Don't 'aww' me. It's not cute." But he doesn't listen, and squeezes me even more. "Taron!"

     He lets me go, laughing. The middle of the night creates the illusion that we are being loud enough for the neighbors to hear, so I hiss a 'shh', making him pinch my nose a bit for an unrelated reason.

     "I'm just destressing. Is that all right?"

     I shake my head. "It's not when it involves squeezing the shit out of me."

     "Fine. I won't hug."

     Knowing me, I am never allowing that. I'm a sucker for hugs whilst I slept and I haven't been cuddled in years. So, I whine and he chuckles.

     "God, I knew you would react like that. You're so needy."

     "Well shit, Taron. I need you."

     He embraces me once again and I feel his chest rise and fall quickly as he snickers.

     Then we let ourselves be engulfed in the silence of the night, and the crickets heard outside. We are wrapped in the bedsheets and I find myself unhealthily overthinking what might happen the following day again. Our little fun ends here, as I utter, breaking the quietness between us. "Taron?"

     "Yeah?" He replies, and I can sense his sleepiness. I want to discontinue my question so I don't reply, but he pokes my back. "What is it?"

     "We'll be alright tomorrow, yeah?"

     He rests his chin on my head. "Of course. We are all right, the file has been deleted. If you don't trust me, you might as well trust the people in charge. They know their stuff. You don't have to worry."

     Here is where I'm mistaken with my initial thought. Perhaps he is completely fine with a bit of doubt. Especially because this is a stressful moment for all of us.

     Tears begin to stream down my eyes, unexpectedly. Taron runs his fingers through my hair then looks down to me. "I'm just scared things won't work out the way I wanted it to be. It's always been like that to me. I got cancelled on by various artists because they couldn't handle me. I got exposed of my true identity and lost my job for good. I don't know what I am going to do if this fucks in."