Sorry For My Secrets

Niall

Zayn was crying. I'd hurt him again. That seemed to be the only thing I could do to him, but I couldn't tell him how I felt because he only viewed my confession as one friend telling another that they appreciated them. That wasn't how I meant it but he didn't see it that way, I guess.

None of us were ever shy about saying I love you. We said it all the time actually, which was most likely working against me.

He'd asked if he could do it so I let him. Feeling his fingers against my stomach as he undid the button on my jeans was almost torture. My muscles jumped and twitched, making me suck in a breath. I was terrified of his reaction because these cuts, though few, were deep.

I lifted my hips so he could slide my jeans down. I heard the sharp gasp when he saw the cuts and tried to cover them with my hands, which Zayn batted away. I also heard the sniffles and turned my eyes to his face where I was shocked to see genuine pain in his bright brown eyes.

He didn't break eye contact as he lowered his head, tenderly kissing my leg. Just a ghost of his lips traveling along my thigh from knee to more than halfway up. His fingers danced across the unmarked skin of the outer leg as he continued to kiss the proof of my insecurities.

I could feel him shifting, feel him spreading my knees and our hips come to rest aligned with each other. I opened my eyes not realizing they'd slipped closed at some point. His expression was full of fear and uncertainty as he whispered, "I love you, Niall."

Dreaming. This was all a dream, I knew it. He wouldn't look at me with those soft eyes in waking moments. Not me. I'm just the kid who followed him around like a lost puppy. He would never feel the same. I turned my head away, not wanting to cry again.

"Look at me, baby," I heard him say. My gaze jerked back to his faster than a heartbeat. "There's my beautiful angel." He began to move slowly, leaning in. His lips were grazing my jaw, moving across my cheek. A hand was in my hair, holding my head as if holding a newborn; his touch was feather light and sweetly gentle.

The stubble on his cheeks and jaw was exquisitely painful and arousing. Pulling away, I heard him say, "I'm about to kiss you, love. Alright?" I couldn't move, couldn't speak. Was this actually happening? Was this really not a dream? Please God don't wake me if so, I prayed.