⋆ s p i l l e d s e c r e t s & h e a r t f e l t t o u c h e s ⋆
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aeipathy (n.) an enduring and consuming passion
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SILENCE HANGS IN THE AIR as I wait for him to continue, my anticipation threatening to boil over. His green eyes swirl with a storm of emotions, so I stifle any impatient words.
"My father is a bad man. About a month ago, right before we were going to move, I accidentally found a stack of confidential documents exposing the truth about his business. It turns out that he had used his telecommunications company as a front for where the millions of dollars he was getting came from. It was actually a cover up for an underground narcotics ring that he ran. I realized that we were moving here because he was offered a better opportunity for more money. I was being stupid the night of homecoming.
"I wanted to investigate what was going on further before I confronted him, and that morning, I had found a document with the directions to a secret deal that was going to happen at midnight. After I dropped you off, I snuck out to the location and spied on them. Andy, we're talking millions of dollars worth of drugs being traded all at once. I recognized one of my dad's assistants among the men too.
"And then, I accidentally knocked something over in my haste to get closer. It was happening in some back alley, and they were loading bags into the trunk of a black van. I immediately started running, but I wasn't fast enough and several of the men caught up to me and jumped me. Somehow, the police knew about the deal too, they just didn't know where exactly it was happening. They heard me get beat up and quickly ran up to us. The other guys got out of there, but I was in a state where I couldn't exactly get up. They arrested me and took me in for questioning, and while I think I got them to believe I was an innocent guy who was in the wrong place at the wrong time, they already had suspicions of my father. Which is why I think they showed up here tonight. They must have been tracking my whereabouts or something.
"Bumble, I didn't tell you because I didn't want you to get involved. After I got home that night, I confronted my father who got extremely angry at me for meddling, and he punched me. I punched him back because I was so blinded by fury and rage. I'm an angry person, Andy. I'm filled with rage all the time, except when I am around you. Angry at my mother for leaving me with a monster, furious at my father for being a horrible person, and enraged at the world for giving me such a shitty life."
He finally finishes taking, and I have no idea what to say. He piled all those heavy words on me at once, and it is like getting a bucket of ice water dumped over my head. It is what I had asked for, but I still am not prepared. It seems like an eternity before I can gather enough words to speak.
"What are you going to do about it?", I ask, "does he still hurt you when you're at home?" My words are tentative, as I don't wish to add onto his hurt further.
"We just ignore each other now, but I am scared that he's planning something, which is why I've been saving up enough money to buy an apartment when I turn eighteen in a few months."
I have so many more questions, but they can wait. I stand and cross the room, kneeling until my lips are inches away from his.
"Thank you for trusting me," I whisper, a different tension filling the air quickly. I gasp as he suddenly cups my chin with one hand, green eyes previously filled with exhaustion and pain darkening, and tilts my face up, bringing my lips to his.
Once again, we're lost to each other, absorbing and burning each other, clashing and battling, meshing, and melding into one. Our pain becomes each other's, our strong emotions exposed and spilling onto each other's lips like ink flowing from a pen. The world around us comes to a halt as we become the center of it, filling up the room with our passion. My hand grabs onto his hair, gently tugging his soft strands as our lips move in sync.
Kissing him is an addiction, his soft lips consuming me, saying more than words ever could. But they never last long enough.
His phone's loud ringtone slices into the moment, and I move away.
"Ignore it," he murmurs against my lips after pulling me back to him. When his phone rings a second time, we break apart for real, him uttering low curses as he reaches for his phone from its spot on the floor.
"What?", he spits, annoyed, without checking to see the caller.
"Right now?", he responds slightly softer after hearing the other person, "Okay, I'm on my way."
"It's my sister," he says apologetically, "my shit father left her home alone again."
"You have a sister?", I ask incredulously, wondering how it never came up before.
"Technically, she's the daughter of my father's new mistress, but I see her as one," he shrugs, "they just moved in a week ago, I forgot to tell you."
"How old is she?", I ask, curious.
"Five. Which is why she shouldn't be home alone," he runs a hand through his hair frustratedly, fishing his keys out of the pocket of his worn jeans.
"It's okay, go," I say, reading the hesitant expression in his emerald eyes. He looks grateful after I say this and turns to rush out the door, but pauses. He spins around and brushes a quick kiss against my lips, but he is out the door before I can register what he's doing. My hand immediately rushes up to touch the spot his lips just were, and I can't help the large grin that overtakes my face as I do so.
I beam like a lovesick idiot all the way until bed, eyes closing with a smile on my lips.
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