Only You

It wasn't sudden. I saw it coming, well, felt it coming, long before it actually arrived. Time slowing down, my surroundings blurring out, only to focus on a certain expression on his face. It wasn't the kind of feeling that takes your breath away or knocks the air out of you.

It was the kind that makes you feel like coming home. When you're exhausted and your energy is all burnt out, he's the one keeping you up. He fills your lungs up with the air you need and envelops you in a sort of warmth that's so comforting that it keeps you grounded just for a while longer.

It's not when he's with other people, laughing and giggling sweetly. It's not when he abandons whomever he's talking to simply because he sees me in the same room. It's not even when he cutely cuddles up to me, sitting on my lap and hugging me despite there being other things to sit on and people to hug.

It's seeing his eyes light up when he's with children, despite being a brat himself, and losing himself completely into them. It's feeling his presence next to me when I'm upset, silent and small, but strong and welcoming as he caresses my hair without a word. Most of all, it's watching one of the pillars in his life collapse and he showed no signs of doing the same as he stood there, ready to become a pillar for another.

Figuring out what exactly I was feeling for him was a bit more complicated. Most people would say I'm in love or that it was simple affection. Honestly, I don't know.

Is love this easy? People say falling in love is hard and sudden. If so, why does this feel like a breeze? Like falling off a high place yet not being afraid of hitting rock bottom.

Affection. Is it always this harsh? This immense? Anyone who tries to hurt him or even looks at him wrongly makes my blood boil and my fists clench to the point they turn white. Is affection always this violent?

Coming to a conclusion took days. Those days turned into weeks. And those weeks turned into months. In that time, I was so confused; I lost focus on most things. I stopped paying attention to what I was eating, what I was doing, what work I had to do, anything at all. I was constantly distracted. Then I was upset. Then I was frustrated. Up to one point, I was angry.

It was here, at this point, that I realise I wasn't the one affected by this. It was at this point that I angrily, distractedly, grabbed the hand that had been waving itself in front of my face. I grabbed it with so much force that had it been anything more fragile, it would've cracked.

What's worse is that I realised a tad too late that the hand I was crushing, was his. I watched with a pang of guilt as soft brown eyes pooled with tears yet not spilling, as he tried to keep his face calm and hold in the pain. Because he knew I didn't mean it, that I had done it distractedly. He always knows damn it.

I heard faint gasps in the background, probably the managers and staffs, but I didn't pay them any attention as I loosened my grip immediately but not letting go. Feeling this and seeing my expression, he whispered out, "Okay?"

I approached him then to comfort him, and I know he didn't mean to, I knew it was only reflex from what just happened, but when he flinched, ever so slightly, I felt something break in me. It was a very small action and anyone could've missed it but I couldn't.

The answer came in a rush then. It hit me hard. I moved for him once more, much slower this time, and he stood still. "Follow me," I spoke, softly, only for us. I tugged his hand gently and he did. i felt gazes on us as we left the room but I ignored them. I brought us into another room, secluded from the rest, and locked the door.

I sat back on one of the tables and pulled him to stand between my legs. Slowly, I let go of his hand to inspect it. Seeing the redness along his wrist from where I grabbed him earlier, the guilt came rushing back. I sent him an apologetic look briefly before gently rubbing his sore wrist.