Sewn-up Hearts | Grey's Anatomy

29. | White Horse

uhhh smut warning. its some hot smut guys, and you don't see any crowen smut wattpad so...the only reason I write this kind of thing is because I think that sex is like a huge part of their relationship, and it's also kind of sweet in their case. It should be beautiful, rather than dirty so just keep that in mind. ima stop now and let you get on to the good stuff.

Maybe I was naïve,
Got lost in your eyes
And never really had a chance
My mistake I didn't know to be in love
You had to fight to have the upper hand
I had so many dreams
About you and me
Happy endings
Now I know
"White Horse" —Taylor Swift

A light rapping appeared at Cristina's door. As she signed the last bit of paperwork, she checked her watch. She had time for whatever press, attending, or family that wanted to see her.

"Come in."

She waited for the door to open, but it didn't. Maybe there wasn't anyone there anymore. Yet there was still shuffling outside her office, and she rolled her eyes. What was with stubborn people these days.

"I said come in!" She yelled again. There was still no movement and she raised a mug of cold coffee to her lips. She wasn't patient enough to deal with any crap.

However, the door slowly creaked open and she almost spit out the coffee in an instant.

Nope, you won't spit out your coffee, swallow it. Gently put down your mug.

She swallowed, put her mug to the side, and blinked a couple times. Then a couple more.

Cristina rubbed her eyes, stared at every part of him, wondering if she was hallucinating. Her lips trembled open in surprise.

"O—Owen?"

He just stood there. He didn't move anything but his eyes, which traveled from her nose to her own eyes, and she swore she was melting. Cristina slowly stood up and stepped away from her chair, then pushed it into the desk. She walked around the so she was a couple feet closer to him, put her arms behind her, pressing he palms at the edge of her desk, and leaned back into her hands.

She looked down, wondering that maybe if she looked down long enough, She'd see a different person or a nothing at all. But after a few minutes, the same shoes, same ill-fitting trousers were there. Cristina realized she was crying. Tears were running down her cheeks as she let herself finally believe that he was finally here for real.

Finally, she spoke. "I'm can't lie. I lay in bed a lot, dreaming that you'd arrive in the middle of nowhere, and we'd be together and everything would be perfect until I snapped back from reality. I had practiced so many scenarios in my and dreamed about this for so long that I can't even tell if this is reality. I don't even remember wh—what I told myself to do. A—And now you're here, but I don't know it its a dream and I'm opening my eyes so wide because usually when I do that I wake up but I'm not awake yet."

Cristina closed her eyes then opened them to meet his sky blue ones. They looked familiar. Unreadable, but familiar. It was an expression she saw before, but forgot what it was. God she could gaze into those forever. His eyes were like candles, they could make such a difference to anything at anytime. His eyes were the festivity at Thanksgiving, where everyone felt at home. His eyes were the were the line of fluttering rays of a dark room covered in rose petals, enchanting her and quickening her pulse. His eyes were the relief when a lantern finally lit in the dark of a forest, guiding her and comforting her when hope was almost lost. She needed those eyes with her forever.

He hadn't said anything yet. She thought he did, because he usually always had something to say. The day they met, he didn't say much, but what he said was all that was needed to make a difference. The only time he never spoke to her was the day after their fight about the abortion. That was not a good silent, he avoided talking to her completely. Yet at this moment, there were absolutely not words at all. Not to anyone.