Miss Incomplete | ✓

Bonus #3 | Dear, Dramatics

BONUS #3 | DEAR, DRAMATICS

"Babe."

Julian shifted his face away from me; crossing his arms childishly as he wraps himself in our shared blanket. I groan, finding the act ridiculous but at the same time, understood that he had his reasons.

"Julian," I repeat, calling out his formal name instead. He didn't budge, his eyes locked beyond on the closet doors as he didn't shifted in movement. I frown, seeing the large space Julian had left out for me to stay. I mean, this is, after all, our bed. "I'm sorry."

That's when he shifted, but only just an centimetre. I knew the reaction why—he hated hearing me say my sorries. He knew I gave them out too easily, too quick and didn't have enough time to find my own defence before moving onto those same words. However, he only appreciates them when it's truly deserved in the situation. In this, I hope, it would.

"No, you're not," he grumbles, lowly as he pulls the covers closer to him.

"How do you know how I feel?" I rebuttal, causing the situation to run in silence. I groan, running a hand through my short hair, feeling frustration building up to me. "How would I know how you would react! I just wanted to help you!"

That's when he shot the covers over his body; heated eyes ran over my body as his shirtless form reveals from underneath the sheets. From our time together, I'm no longer fazed by the fact that he would sleep practically naked—but rather distracted by the fact that he would always pull me closer to him during his sleep.

"Francena," he calls out my name lowly, causing the title to shatter from the ground. "I know you were trying to help me but I needed to do it on my own. You didn't need to write my damn paper for me!"

I almost said he was being ridiculous—almost. However, I knew how Julian was and I knew how he felt in a manner of speaking. He had someone making the 'right' choices for him all the time, and though I only did mine out of an act of love, I understood why his reasons made him feel the way he did. I mean, he dealt with my irrational anger and in return, I sympathise with his own emotions.

"It was due–and you were–you didn't sleep–and you had your sessions with the counsellor that you didn't have time! I just thought it would be nice to help!" Julian had a ten-page essay due to his Morals and Ethnics class the next day and he never started. It didn't help that we saw Tasha when we went back to our hometown, and he had a bit of an insomnia session a little bit afterwards. It fucked up his schedule and caused another round of problems to occur. I only wanted to help, I truly did.

"I know," he exhales deeply, relaxing faster than before. However upset he can be with me, he always ends a problem we had the day we have them. He doesn't hold them out. "But you should've let me fucked up. This is my life, Francena. My mistake. What happens when I become dependent on you when I shouldn't have?"

There was the blow. Though not intended, I knew the situation long enough—the similar words. He's throwing my words right back at me and he knew it hits me the most.

I didn't reply to him, causing him to find the ending to the conversation. He finds himself tucked back under the covers, eyes locked on the beyond as he separate himself and causing his back to face me. I knew despite how he looked, it was going to take him a few more hours before he could actually fall asleep.

I frown, finding a hard pool of feelings stirring in my stomach. I got into bed, taking the covers to my sane amount and closed my eyes.

—

Radiating body heat closed in on my body, a solid form pressed against my back as I begin to feel myself stirring awake.

Letting out a small yawn, I felt something wrapped around my waist and looking down to find Julian's arms wrapped across my stomach. My head, tilting backwards enough to see Julian pressing his chest against my back as he breathes in slowly and quietly.

Memories surged in from last night reminding me that he was upset–or in a decent amount, frustrated, when we went to bed. 

Now he's cuddling with me despite our argument.

Jesus Christ, I love him.

Julian shifts in the mattress, causing me to close my eyes in attempt to hide that I was awake and enjoying the moment.

A yawn escapes from his lips, and I squeeze my eyes tighter hoping he wouldn't notice.

"I know you're awake," he said huskily, his morning voice always coming out deeper and unintended than usual. I didn't answer, hoping his rhetorical statement would brass away in the air. "You clenching your calf muscle underneath the sheets."

Fuck.

I peak open my eye, one at a time, seeing Julian leaning over my frame as his arms continue to hold me securely in his grasp. "How'd you know?"

"Other than the fact that your calves tighten when you squeeze your eyes?" He states, allowing me to nod my head, "you clenched your hand holding me."

I look down, finding a small grip holding his hand that was on my stomach. I released immediately, swearing at myself for my subconscious shows in body language. "Geez, I really need to learn how to release, huh?"

Julian chuckles, slipping his arms from me, causing his heat to be missed once he got up from his side and headed towards our conjoined large bathroom. The door swinged open as he begins to brush his teeth, staring into the mirror as I'm staring at him.

He spits out the foam in his mouth, washing before turning to me. "You know staring is rude, right?"

"You know you're supposed to be mad at me, right?"

"I can be," Julian gestures back to the bed, "I can return back to taking all the blanket and huddling myself in a burrito if that's what you want."

"No!" I throw one of our pillows in his direction, and with his fast reflexes, he dodges smoothly. "Fine, fine, I'm sorry."

Julian frowns, "you know I hate when you do that."

"It's a reflex, I'm—" he shoot me a look and I close my eyes as he closes in our distance. He appears closer to me, "now what you want?"

"Can I get a kiss before I leave for practise?" He asks, his tone hopeful and I bite my lip in contemplation.

"I have morning breath right now."

"Do I look like I care?" He asks rhetorically, and as I was about to give into a smart comment, he quickly adds, "don't say it. I can just rise again."

"You say it like my morning breath is that terrible."

"Goddamnit Francena, what do you—" I lean in for the kiss, cutting his sentence off as I crash my lips against his. He, despite being distracted in the beginning, quickly recovered and return the small peck into a longing taste. It took a moment—felt like a whole century—before our lips parted and he is breathing heavily.

"So fucking lucky," he mumbles under his breath, seemingly to himself, before wiping his lips with the back of his hand. He turns back to the bedroom door, and with a bid of goodbye, he leaves for his morning practise as I'm still stuck in bed.

"So fucking lucky indeed," I said quietly to myself, looking at the front door of our apartment where Julian left moments ago.