Doorman

Quiet (VER 2)

"You're going to be okay," I smile, my voice just above a whisper.

Her breakdowns aren't getting any better, just less frequent. I thought I would be able to help, I really did. I don't know what to do anymore.

She's crying now, her sobs muffled by her hand reaching up to cover them.

The lights are off, and we are illuminated only by the faint light of my computer monitor. I take off my glasses and I do as she told me. I don't look at her.

Sometimes I wonder if I'm the reason she has these panic attacks. She told me they just happen, but I've figured out she's notorious for lying.

Ever since that first night we hung out, I've been thinking about how she reacted. It seemed like she seized up in fear when I touched her.

She tells me he's fine with contact, but she's notorious for lying.

"How do you feel?" I ask, wanting a straightforward answer I know I'm not going to get.

"Scared," she replies, same as last time.

"Do you need anything?" I try something new.

Her answer surprises me.

"Nothing but you."

My heart beats at what I'm assuming is the same speed as her. That was a study some long forgotten scientists did, right? That your heart beats at the same rhythm as the person you love?

"What do you mean?" I'm shaking now, I just want her to tell me what I want to hear.

I just want her to be sick to his stomach at the thought of kissing me, just like I am.

I just want her to cry from the memory of our lips sharing the same space, just like I do.

I just want her to love me, just like I love her.

"Can I hold your hand?" she asks me so earnestly.

Her eyes don't look scared but they don't look unafraid either.

Her eyes register the same emotion they had that one night, the emotion I don't quite understand.

But I hold my hand out, I want to touch her again. I want to touch her.

When our fingers touch there's a moment of hesitation. This is slower than last time, better.

"Michael... can I..." she trails off.

I scoot even closer to her, our legs interlocked. I can hear her breathing become labored.

"Just let me try something," I say, almost on autopilot.

I lean in, my face right in front of her. I close my eyes and I kiss her.

Her hand leaves mine and finds its way to my hips, pulling me closer. This is much different than last time.

I'm seated on her lap, the closest I've ever been to her.

"Please don't stop kissing me." she pleads, breathless.

I comply, kissing her harder this time, wanting something more out of all of this.

I feel pressure against my bottom lip, and I part, feeling her tongue slide into my mouth.

My mind momentarily flickers to [Y/N], and how she's handling all of this stimulation.

I break the kiss to ask, "Are you okay? Is this too much?"

Her eyes are sparkling with happiness and she smiles, "I've never felt so good in my entire life!"

She grabs my face and kisses me again, and places small, quick kisses all over my face and down my neck. I start to laugh from the sensation.

Then I start to feel different. Different from whatever I've felt before.

I kiss her again, more tenderly this time.

When we break I get close to her ear. "Quiet," I whisper, and I love her like never before.