Numbers // weekman/weekeman

-Part 11-

-Ryan POV-
-self harm discussed in this one.-

Dallon and I lay intertwined on his couch like tangled Christmas lights. We don't speak. We haven't spoken for a while. We just look into each other's eyes, as cheesy as it sounds. I feel as though I am drowning in the icy depths of his eyes, though it is peaceful. No matter how hard I may try to escape them, I know I never will.

"You know..." Dallon starts. "I think you're beautiful."

I bury my face into his chest to hide the blush and childish grin. I breathe in deeply before saying, "No I'm not."

I can feel his fingers tug lightly at my hair. I have found that he likes to play with my hair, so it's a familiar feeling now.

"Shh," he tells me, to which I obey. I keep my face buried in his warm chest, breathing in his sweet scent. For some odd reason, it makes me feel rather safe. I squeeze his body closer to mine, balling his shirt up in my fist. His hands run gently up and down my back. I feel tired. I feel calm for the first night in months.

"Dallon?" I say softly.

"Hm?"

"Do you mind if I maybe, y'know, um, stay the night here, with you?" I ask. Prepared and expecting the worst, I tense up. My thoughts wander to a place where they imagine him kicking me out of the house, yelling and screaming, possibly going as far as to hitting me or being rather brutal.

"No, no, you can come and stay whenever you want," he tells me. "I don't mind if you stay at all. Do you have work tomorrow?"

I shake my head. I feel him nod.

"Goodnight," I whisper.

"Goodnight," he whispers back. I thought I heard him mumble something else but I don't linger for too long on it from the sheer amount of exhaustion fatiguing me. I close my eyes and lean further into his chest, falling asleep what feels like instantly.

- - -

Last night was one of the first times in months that I haven't sliced open my skin with that grim blade.

I felt safe, content. I felt happy last night.

Dallon is looking at me intensely.

"Hey," he says.

"How long have you been up?" I question, my voice scratchy and my vision foggy from sleep.

He shrugs. "Not very long."

I smile and bring my hand up to Dallon's face, running my thumb over his cheek.

"Can I ask you something?" he asks, his face going serious.

"Of course," I say, my voice shaking.

Dallon breathes in deeply, closing his eyes briefly. "I promise I will never look at you differently, no matter what you answer to this. I promise you, Ryan."

I nod, tears welling in my eyes. One falls down my cheek and Dallon quickly reaches forward to wipe it away.

"Do you hurt yourself?"

I start sobbing then, the tears filling up my eyes like swelling rivers. They run down my cheeks in thick streams and I take in and breathe out choppy breaths. I knew this would happen, I knew he would find out sooner or later. I don't want him to hate me.

"Y-yes, Dallon, I do. It's such a habit, I hate it. I hate myself for it," I start spilling out to him. His face doesn't change, it holds the same thick sadness all the way through my violent sobs.

"I'm so sorry, I don't want you to worry about me, I'm sorry, Dallon," I apologize, trying to read his face through eyes blurred with tears.

"It's okay," he whispers to me. A single tear falls down his face. "Is it bad?" We sit up then, facing each other on the couch.

I nod. He gently grabs my arm and I try to pull it back. Dallon frowns at me then whispers, "Can I see?"

"Do you want to?"

"I just want to know how bad it is and how I can help. I've seen glimpses of your arms," he tells me. "I promise you I won't think of you differently." He pauses before looking at my face with intense scrutiny and a magnificent yet subtle passion is his eyes. "I know this is soon, but I think I love you."

Another wave of sobs escapes me, overwhelming me like a relentless riptide pulling me underwater. I throw myself into Dallon's embrace, pulling his body closer to mine and pushing mine closer to his. My hands grip the back of his shirt, and I choke out through my dismal cries, "I love you, Dallon." I peel myself away from him and look deeply into his piercing blue eyes.

"I love you too, Ryan. And I'll do anything I can to help you. I care about you," Dallon says.

I sniffle, then ask, "Do you still want to see?"

"Only if you want to show me."

"Okay," I mumble before sluggishly taking off my hoodie. Out of familiarity, I keep my arms tucked close to myself, the scarred underside facing me. I know that there may be a possibility of scars peeking out to where one could see them. Dallon reaches forward, delicately touching my arm like one would touch a fragile baby animal, before slightly tugging it away from me. I give in to his pull and turn my arms up, the air hitting my fresh and old scars in such an unfamiliar way. It seems to sting me, hissing to me that this is not right. My arms should be covered, no one should be seeing them, let alone examining them. They should be hidden.

But I trust Dallon.

A fresh wave of tears starts falling then and Dallon drops my arm to cup my face in his soft hands.

"No, no. Don't cry. Why are you crying?" His voice is so gentle, so soothing. "It's okay, Ryan, I promise it's okay. You haven't done anything wrong. I'm not mad, I'm not disappointed, I promise." He rushes to get his words out, and I feel my body start to shake. I once again wrap my arms around him and he pulls me closer to him, a soft shushing sound spilling from his lips as he rocks slightly back and forth, sheltering me in the castle of his arms.

Dallon angles my face up after I finish the majority of my sobs. I look into his eyes, feeling something soothing about the coolness of their icy blue hue.

"I'm sorry," I tell him quietly.

"It's okay," he confirms through a whisper.

And then I'm leaning forward, my hands racing to find a place on the back of Dallon's neck to pull his face down to mine, and I connect my tear-stained lips to his.

-kinda proud of this part.-