Addicted z.m

Chapter 32

I struggled to open my eyes, they were crusted shut and felt heavy though I was sure I wasn't tired. When I finally let my vision clear his big brown eyes were the first thing in my view. He wad staring at me like he had been waiting for the moment I awoke.

His face was sad and I frowned. "What's wrong?" I asked.

"Why were you crying?" he ignored my question.

"What?"

"Your eyes are puffy and red. You cried yourself to sleep. Why?"

I wiped my face with my hand, trying my best to rid it of dry tear stains and crust. That explained why my eyes felt so heavy; they were swollen. "I was just...thinking. It's no big deal."

"Spencer," he begged.

"I don't want to talk about it, Zayn," I complained.

"I won't be able to let this go..." he reminded.

I tore my eyes away from his, staring at the ceiling then at his rising and falling chest. I was working so hard to mentally distract myself, I didn't even realise tears had filled my eyes until a tear finally fell. Zayn pulled me to him and rested his chin on top of my head.

"Talk to me babe," he whispered.

I took a shakey beath before speaking. "I don't want to have to leave you," I confessed. "I hated seeing you so hurt last night by just the thought of me leaving you, I don't want to have to actually leave and see you feel ten times worse."

"Don't worry about me," he tried to comfort me.

I lifted my head and shot daggers at him. "Don't say that to me," I ordered. "Don't you dare ever say that to me again, you hear me? It doesn't matter how many fucking times you tell me not to worry, I'm going to worry because you always give me a reason to fucking worry." I snapped, sitting up and keeping my back to him. I never had a problem with Zayn seeing me cry, but at this moment, I didn't want him to look at me. These were frustrated tears and I didn't want him seeing me this way.

"Spencer," he pleaded. He touched my arm but I moved away. I felt his weight shift as he sat up behind me. We sat in silence for a good thirty seconds before a sob I had been trying to hold in escaped my body. He wasn't taking no for an answer this time as he pulled me to his chest. I sobbed into his bare chest as he cradled me in his arms.

He began humming that familiar melody and, now knowing the meaning and value behind the song, it meant more to me and actually helped. It made my sobs silence and made me nearly forget why I was crying in the first place.

"I'm sorry," he whispered when he finished the song for a third time.

"For what?" I asked.

"I hate being the reason for your tears. It was selfish of me to cry and ask comfort of you last night, I didn't even think about how it would make you feel."

"Don't apologise for crying. Everyone needs someone to hold them when they cry and I want to be that person for you. I was there for you last night and you're here for me now. That's all that matters."

He didn't say anything, I couldn't think of anything to fill the silence either, so we just sat there snuggled up together.

I took the silent mental time to ourselves as a moment to reflect on how much I truly honestly loved the person holding me like he loved me too. His warm embraces never failed to set off a stampede of butterflies in my stomach yet calm me down at the same time. He didn't have to kiss me or say anything for me to know he loved me.

He loved me before he got me between the sheets. He loved me when he told me to stop saying that I loved him. He loved me and even if he didn't say it at least two times every hour, I would know. I knew every time I said I love you and he refused to say it back that he loved me.