Find My Way Home [m×m; mpreg]

one

I stare at the man before me, breath hitching in my throat even as I cross my arms over my chest in defense.  I haven't seem him in months... a bit more than a year and there's a small pang in my chest at that.

"I don't need a babysitter," I say immediately.

The man raises a perfectly sculpted brow and I can't help but admire him.

I don't know why I feel like this.  I thought that after being away for such a long time I'd forget about the butterflies he riles in my stomach.  But here I stand, breathlessly wondering how he would look if we--

I quickly get rid of those thoughts.

It's wrong.

I know it's wrong and still my body yearns for his touch.

"I'm not here to babysit you," he assures, quickly sidestepping me and walking inside as if he owns the place.

"You're not?" I question in disbelief, following him quietly after closing and locking the front door.

He stops briefly in the living room, looking around the mess of books scattered about, "You're already seventeen, Morgan.  I think you're mature enough to be on your own for a few days."

"Then what are you doing here?" I ask.

"I'm here on business.  There are a few documents I need, reports to make, and paperwork to fill out," he answers easily.

I trail after him like a lost puppy as he enters the study.  My footsteps stop at the door while he takes a seat behind the mahogany desk and begins working, eyes scanning paper after paper while fingers type up a report.  

And it irks me that he can slide right in and pretend like he's never left.  

My hands clench into fists at my sides, body trembling in inexplicable rage.

But my breath stops and heart aches when he looks at me, gaze softening.

"Why are you here?" I ask softly, childishly, "after months of barely seeing or hearing about you, you're suddenly back like you didn't just disappear."

"I didn't," he says, eyes narrowing, stare hardening before looking away with a heavy sigh.

I want to continue arguing.  I want to contradict him.  I want to stop hurting, stop pretending like his leaving didn't affect me as much as it has.  He was my best friend, now he's a stranger.

"I didn't just 'disappear'," he adds, voice growing firm, "I know you have questions, but I'm back and busier than ever, and I don't owe you an explanation.  So, I wont get in your way if you don't get in mine."

Tears well up in my eyes but he's no longer looking at me.  It's as if I suddenly don't exist.  He's no longer than man I thought I knew, the one who help me at night when I suffered from panic attacks.  He's no longer the man I looked up to.  He's no longer the man... the man I thought I loved.  He's cold and mean now.  His words are cutting as if he wants to push me away until I have no choice but to jump.

I don't know why he left.  I don't know why he changed.  I don't know why my heart still stutters in my chest when I remember him, when I see him.

"I wish you never came back," I spit, turning around and slamming the door, trying not to blush in embarrassment when my prosthetic gets caught.

I press my back against the wooden slab, trying to catch my breath and secretly hoping he would follow after me.  I close my eyes tight, hoping... hoping..

1... 2... 3...

The silence is broken by the scratch of a pen on a stack of papers and the clicking of a computer.  And now I know he's not the person I knew.  His eyes are harsh, filled with... with hate.  And it shatters my world, because that hate is directed at me.

A small sob escapes my lips before I'm hurrying to my room as fast as I can.  When the door is closed I crawl into bed and bury my flushed face in my pillow.

I always knew he would never see me as I see him.  I always knew he could never feel the love I feel for him.  Because it's taboo.  Because it's wrong.

And still, nothing prepares me for the realization that he hates me, that he probably knows about my feelings and that's why he left. 

And now that he's back, there's only hate in those gorgeous brown eyes, in those swirling pools of chocolate and hazelnut that I fell for.

Hate and nothing more.

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A/N: As promised, the sequel to My Home Is With You.  It may not be as good as the first one, but I'll work on it regardless 😊 Hope you enjoy it.