You'll Fall For Me, I Promise

26; 'Playing Match Maker'

A few weeks had passed since Blake asked me to be his and things were good. Well, I mean, I felt like they were okay. Blake and I continued to argue over his behavior from time to time, but, even though I said I loved all of him, I couldn't deal with his fighting.

"I may have changed, but not so far that I'm entering the darkness of your world," I say to him. Once again we were in my living room, arguing. He'd come back about ten minutes ago with torn up knuckles and blood on his shirt, his eye slowly swelling and a bruise already on his jaw.

"I'm not asking you too, but I'm asking you to stop running your mouth when I come back from my world," he huffs, pushing past me to go to the kitchen.

I follow closely behind, not letting him get away with coming here beaten up more than two times a week. "Blake, please, just understand it from my position," I beg, watching him take a bag of frozen peas out of my freezer. He looks at me, almost bored. "What if one night you don't win? What will I do then when I wait for your parents to call me and tell me you're in the hospital, or worse!" My voice gets louder, panic obviously setting in.

He sighs, walking over to me. He sets his peas down, revealing his jaw again. I wince at the sight of it as he lifts me up, sitting me on the counter. He stands between my legs, looking into my eyes. I gently trace my fingers across his jaw, earning a hiss. I frown, picking the bag up from the counter and placing it back on his face. "I won't lose," he whispers simply.

"It's not that simple, Blake."

"Of course it is, love," he says, brushing a stray strand of hair from my face. I was in a simple t-shirt with a pair or shorts, my hair tied into a messy bun with strands falling over my face. His white shirt had specks of blood on it, his black jeans showing patches of mud and a slight tear. His hair was disheveled and his face was a mess.

"What if someone pulls a knife?" I mumble, sadness evident in my voice. I was slowly cracking. I couldn't live his life, and my heart ached when he came back to mine looking like this.

"It won't happen. Stop thinking like that," he says, a deep frown etched onto his lips.

"You don't know that," I whine, my chest tight at the thought of something bad happening to him.

He sighs, shaking his head. He takes the peas from me, setting them down again. He leans forward a little, wrapping his arms around my waist, his lips gently moving along my cheek and jaw. "How was work?" He mumbled, wanting to change the subject.

"You can't distract me this time," I mumble, leaning back a little so that he couldn't reach me. I lied, obviously. He knew how easy it was to distract me and it was frustrating.

"Whatever," he grumbles, pulling away completely, heading back to the lounge. I sit on the counter, dumbfounded.

"Are you seriously throwing a tantrum because I'm not letting you off this time?" I ask, astonished, as I walked into the lounge. I found him laid across the couch, staring at the ceiling.

"You seriously think I'm throwing a tantrum?" He grumbled. "How dumb are you?"

"You're such a child," I say, unable to escape the chuckle leaving my lips. His head snaps up, looking directly at me with burning green eyes. The were filled with humor and anger, and I wasn't sure what to think because I'd never seen him look so wild before.

"I'm the child?" He laughs, jumping off of the sofa. "I'm a child?" He asks again, taking large strides towards me. I try to step back but the wall stops me from escaping and soon he's towering over me, one hand next to my head. "I can definitely show you how childish I can be if that's what you want," he mumbles, his breath fanning over my face.