Wanting Her

Chapter 27

-HIM-

Bloodied hands and knuckles . Bruised face. Chapped lips. Ached body. Reminding me that it would take a week to properly heal.

I groaned. It feels good to feel this way. I was mending my knuckles in the toilets slightly wincing when I put an iodine on the wounds.

Underground fighting, that's where I've been getting the bruises from

I will go to there when I find something is too much on my head. That something is bugging my mind. In this case, I was reminded by the thoughts of my parents. My fucked family.

How it all fucking up with my head.

My father thinks that by giving me luxurious things will make him passed for being a father. That he's giving me all the essentials I needed. I don't need those things but he kept on leaving those things and just left without seeing me.

And for once, I felt almost thankful he gave me that car.

My mind was taking me back to the date I have with Lana. She looks very simple yet beautiful in her own way. I like it that she didn't put much effort in her looks as if she was comfortable in her own skin.

And she should be.

Wearing a simple white t-shirt tucked in her jeans, still able look fucking attractive and hot to me.

I was very content and full when I'm with her. I don't have anything to worry about in the world. I don't feel reminded of anything. She makes me forget. Even for that moment, I was grateful.

Seeing her smile, leaves the encumbrances weighing my being. Seeing her eyes lit up in excitement, lifted the heaviness in my chest.

She makes me feel again.

And I was getting addictive of being able to feel again. She was my own personal drug I needed and can't get enough.

I moved my body to stand, but the ache in my ribs forbid me to do so. I groaned in pain, when I pushed myself trying to stand again.

Lana had asked me about my parents. I wasn't able to tell her just yet. Not yet. I don't want her to look at me differently. I want her to just be her without knowing my past.

I know she wasn't like anybody else but my mind and heart was liking the idea of her still not knowing. It's not fair to her. I know a lot about her because she was so open, I could easily read her.

Lana thinks she was good at masking her expression, but I have long watched her to know that she wasn't able to hide it.

From me, at least.

Her family seems nice and I was glad she was born from such family. I don't feel offended even the slightest bit by her father's mean remarks to me. It shows that he's feeling protective of her daughter and that he loves her.

He called me, trouble. As much troubled I am with what Lana's father think of me. It was right and I didn't deny a bit fact about it. It was true so I let it be.

I walked myself to the kitchen and fetch a glass in the upper cabinet and fill it with water. I was dehydrated from all the fighting. Today's fight would have been easy, but I wanted to hurt myself. To numb myself from thinking about my mother again.

My poor mother. Who slept herself to sleep with gallons of alcohol. Who was constantly far from sobriety state of mind.

Shit. My temple was pounding. The ache and bruises in my face was throbbing.

I can't go to school looking like this. I would peak Lana's curiosity and I don't want to worry her. I had worry her enough today by my shitty silence act.

She doesn't even glance back at me when she walk to her door. I saw that her face was flushed, I don't know whether it's from the kiss or anything beyond that.

I hope she's not crying.

My chest tightened thinking of her crying. But it hurts even more to think that I was the cause of it. I don't ever want to hurt her, if anything it was far from that.

I walk up the stairs with so much difficulty and the ache was brimming at every part of my body.

But damn it feels good.

As soon as I reached my room, I take off my clothes before jumping into shower. I twist the shower knob and make sure that it was warm enough before getting under it.

I sigh in relief when the warm water hits my aching body. I let the water roam down my body, wiping the bloods and easing the bruises away. I look down and saw that the water was turning marginally to pink color with bloods mixing with the water.

I close my eyes, embracing the relief feeling the water brought on my body and unconsciously to my constricted heart too. I wash my body tenderly careful not to hurt the wounds even more than it alreadywas.

I pat myself dry and put the towels in the hamper before wearing my usual shorts to sleep. I get under the cover and sleep finds me pretty quickly, my body exhausted from the fight. I was lulling myself to sleep when I heard the front door clicked open.

My eyes opened and my senses heightened. My ears picking up for any sounds echoing what lies behind my door. I was shot out of bed and I fucking know who it is before seeing him.

He dare come back here after everything.

The pain my body was bearing was long forgotten and I forced myself to walk downstairs with so much audacity and anger at the same filling my self.

He was in the kitchen making himself at home like he has every fucking right to be here.

"What are you doing here?" I said in grimaced making sure to put the disdained and edge into it. Doesn't he have any shame?

"What the hell happen to you?" He dared to ask about me.

"I said what are you doing here." My eyes were staring daggers. My hands fisting, clenching hard to my side.

"Ethan-I." He fucking tried. Eyes wide, mouth open and closing trying to find a fucking word.

I seriously don't want to hear his voice. I seriously don't want to talk to him even. I don't even want to see his face.

"Get out." I turned away. Quickly walking to the front door. Waiting for him to get out of here.

He followed me and stops just right in front of me. His eyes were sad. My eyes were void of anything but hatred when I look at him. I firmed my stance not backing down from my demand.

I need him out of this house and out of my fucking sight before I lose control. We looked at each other, the storming brew in each eyes held oppositeness.

His eyes filled with remorse and sadness whilst mine filled with indifference towards him and every fucking thing that involves him.

"Son, please." I looked away before he could say anything else.

He sighs loudly. He walked out of the door, carrying himself out. His shoulder sagged as he walked passed me and I don't feel fucking anything remotely close to sympathy at him.

He's my father.