short stories

number two

And suddenly we were strangers again. 

Everything we went through just didn't matter anymore. From one second to the next he walked away and never came back. No, that's a lie. He did come back, just not in the way I wanted. On Sunday, he was in my room and we were making out on my bed. His hands brushed under my shirt and all I wanted at that moment was for him to go further. To grab at my waist, to kiss my neck, my chest, my back and even lower. I wanted him to push my shirt off and touch me. I wanted him to want me as much as I wanted him. But he didn't.

At exactly five o'clock he left, just like he always did. Because he had to be home at five-thirty, if he wasn't his parents would worry. And he didn't want them to worry. He was sweet like that. He was perfect if I'm honest. But I don't want to be honest anymore, not if he doesn't have to be honest either.

Every time he left, I asked him to text me. I didn't ask him to stay, I knew he couldn't. I just wanted to know if he came home alright if he still wanted me. I didn't want him to leave me, yet he still did.

Sometimes I asked him if I could meet his parents, he had met mine after all. My mother had loved him from the start, she always hoped I could get a good boyfriend, someone who was nice to me. Someone better than James. And my mother could see that Peter was better than James. She could see that he made me happy and she was happy about that. My dad was a bit more difficult, he was still angry about James. But I had warned Peter about that and I knew that Peter could handle it. I knew that because I loved him. Still, do.

He always said no. He said that his parents thought that relationships in school were useless. That you would forget about them anyway. I lost count of the number of times that I said that we were in college. That we were adults. That we could make our own choices. He argued that I lived in another state, that I was just here for college and after that, I would return home again. I never mentioned that he was my home. That I would go anywhere with him.

I knew he was hiding something, but I was willing to forgo that. I just wanted to focus on the good and ignore the bad. I knew that that was naive. But I was only twenty, I was young. Too young to have known such pain. I thought that it would be good for him to have his secrets because I had secrets too. I had never mentioned what happened with James. I had told small parts, never the whole story. Because I was scared, scared of rejection, of disgust. 

James was the worst part of my life. I know that everyone says that about their exes, but he was the worst. He ruined my life. And Peter saved me. James wasn't just a bad boyfriend, he didn't just forget my birthday or our anniversary. He hurt me. He always gripped my arms too tight, so tight that it left bruises. He always went a tad too far, no matter how many times I told him to stop. "It will be better, trust me." He always said that. But it never became better, it just became worse. 

We dated for about two years, it took two years for my parents to notice something was wrong. Two years. It felt so long, too long. Longer than two years. At first, he was nice, he gave me presents and begged for kisses. But begging turned into demanding. Presents turned into torture. And in the end, I couldn't remember the last time he did something nice. I still stayed with him, I stayed with him because I couldn't forget the good times. The times were he was the perfect boyfriend, the times where I didn't have bruises on my wrists. 

The first time a friend asked me if everything was alright, was two weeks after James first hit me. I had managed to hide it for the first few days, telling myself that it was a one-time thing. Telling myself that it was my fault. It wasn't.

When my parents found out, they made me break up with him. They told me that I should have done that a while ago. They also said that it wasn't my fault. That was nice. 

It was my senior year of high school and I had been dating James for two years. We were endgame according to some people. Random people came up to us and asked how we were still together and if we would stay together throughout college. "Love" "of course" Those were James' answers, I didn't talk in public. Too afraid of saying something wrong. Something that I would pay for later. Little did James know that I was making plans, plans to leave this state. Plans for college. Plans that didn't involve him. Because my answers would've been "fear" "no, we won't"

I filled my college application in with my parents and together we sent it to a college far away. Together with my dad, I practised boxing. To defend myself for when I finally broke up with James. The day after the exams were done, I asked James to meet me by the lake. It was a beautiful day so he thought nothing of it. I arrived late so that I could flee quickly. "I am breaking up with you. You're not good for me. You're abusive. Goodbye." I said it as slow as I could so that he understood me. After that, I ran. Ran as fast as I could.

At our graduation, I sat at one end of the hall. He sat on the other side. I didn't dare sneak a glance at him. My parents and I left as quickly as possible. We were never coming back. I barely left my room during the summer. I cried a lot. He was still my first boyfriend and I was devastated. It didn't matter that he was horrible, I was still hurt.

When summer ended, I packed my bags, said goodbye to my parents and left. I went through the first two years of college without dating anybody. I had a few friends, but I was too afraid to start dating again, no matter how many people encouraged me to do just that. But then I met Peter. He showed me love and patience. He never hurt me. For the first time in over two years, I found myself falling for someone. And I thought he felt the same way.

We danced around each other for a few months, before I dared to ask him out. He said yes. We went to the movies and took dinner afterwards. It was scary, embarrassing and amazing. I forgot how nice it was to go on dates. To just talk to someone and not feel scared. Scared of being hurt or judged.

For the whole year, everything was perfect. He met my parents when they visited one weekend. We skyped my grandparents one night. Everyone loved him, everyone loved us. And above all, I loved him.

On Sunday, we went on a day before we ended up in my room. We went to the side of our town that I had never visited before. But Peter knew the way, he was born there. He took me to all of his favourite places, places that he visited every week ever since he was a kid. We acted like a couple because we were a couple. He had never told me that I should've been secretive. 

The problem was that one of his old neighbours saw us. Apparently she was shocked. She went to his parents after that. She told them about us. Apparently Peter hadn't told his parents that he was dating me. It turned out that he wasn't as perfect as he seemed. I only learned of this months later.

His father especially was pissed. He didn't want his son to date me. He said it was disgusting. That we didn't belong together. Apparently the problem wasn't that we were too young. That we were still in college like Peter had told me all those months. The problem was that we were both boys.

A/N don't steal. I might continue, might not. Sorry for the spelling mistakes. If you don't like it, give constructive criticism.