Sting Eucliffe x Reader Book 3

Chapter 2 - The Best & The Worst In Me

Sitting there, with you in his arms and he in yours, you took whatever warmth he could give you and enjoyed the moment.

"If I tell you what's wrong," You started. "Then you have to promise to hear me out and be open-minded. I don't know if I can survive if you're not."

Sting pulled away, searching deep in your eyes for the answer he was eager to hear. "What's so terrible that you have to ask me to be open-minded? (Y/N), I swear that whatever's wrong, we can fix it or I can help. Are you alright? Are you sick?"

You shake your head and readjust your towel. Telling Sting something like this in nothing but a towel is not ideal.

He noticed your discomfort and suddenly felt guilty for starting a serious conversation right after your shower.

"Why don't you get changed. I'll make us some tea or something." He uses the wall as support to stand and reaches down to pull you up with him.

You nod and let him walk first. He goes to the kitchen and begins filling the kettle with water. You listen to his movements as you open your dresser and begin changing into your clothes for the night. While changing, you noticed you were taking longer than usual.

Maybe it was the fear of rejection getting to your subconscious. Every second you took running from the confession was a second of still living in marital bliss.

It felt like marital bliss.

You went over to the kitchen before the kettle's whistle blew. You leaned against the counter and watched Sting turn off the stove and pour the water into two cups.

"Before I tell you," You started, making Sting pause before he continued with the tea — eyes on what he was doing, but ears focused on your voice. "I want you to know that it wasn't... it wasn't my fault." You teared up.

Sting looked over and hurt took over his expression. "(Y/N), what's so bad that you can't tell me?"

You wiped under your eyes and rubbed your wet fingers on your shirt, sniffling and attempting to regain your composure.

"I went looking for you at the party, when you left the room," You said. Sting stopped to focus. "And I looked outside and thought I saw you but it was someone else. Someone I didn't know."

Getting the rest of it out hurt like Hell. Sting could tell. "And...?"

"And he just kissed me." You spit out aggressively. The tears didn't care about your composure, they spilt down your cheeks regardless. "He just randomly kissed me and wouldn't let me leave!"

You didn't get to see Sting's reaction. In seconds he had his arms around your body and your head on his chest. He kept you close to his heart. So close you could feel its rampant beating.

"I'm sorry. I'm so fucking sorry (Y/N)," Sting squeezed you tighter. "I'm sorry."

"For what?" You asked against his chest, confused.

"For not being there. For making you feel like you couldn't tell me. And for being such a stupid boyfriend and leaving you alone at the party in the first place."

Now you felt bad in a million different ways than before. You didn't want him to blame you and you most definitely didn't want him to blame himself.

With eyes blinded by your tears, you squeaked, "Don't be sorry."

He growled, "I just... I should've been there. The fact that some random bastard had the nerve to take advantage of you—"

"I'm fine though! Really Sting, I'm alright now. I mean I... I was really just worried about how you would take it."