𝐁𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐝𝐲 𝐊𝐞𝐟𝐟𝐚 [𝐁𝐱𝐁]

CHAPTER 30: Endless Kisses & Promises.

CHAPTER 30: Endless Kisses & Promises

Lewis Kaplan Age 18|

"It's fine." I said. Allowing him to leave.

But he didn't move, he just stared at me; his eyes glinted a dark brown, darker than his usual amber shade. His arms tensed weathered in conflict, the same conflict that I saw climb itself to bath his handsome features. He breathed through his nose and the sound of the inhale and exhale of it was cornered in indecision.

"Lew, I'm ..." he tried to say something but his sentence ended there.

Then he was pulling me in for another kiss – we both knew I couldn't refuse him.

He kissed me softly, gently and this time his tongue explored my mouth in a way that sent shivers down my spine. He pulled away, gasping for air the same way I was and held my wrist rubbing small haunting circles on it. "If I could I would stay, I want you to know that," he hesited a moment then, lowered his head to smell my hair and said "Whatever happens please don't hate me."

"I would never hate you." I assured him. Softly folding fistfuls of his shirt in my hands even though I sensed he was talking about something yet to happen, something grave.
But I know I meant my assurance; I didn't think there was anything Zhavia the boy I'd grown up in love with could do to make me hate him.

"I love y---" I tried to say but I couldn't finish because he feathered a chaste kiss on my lips and pulled away promising. "Happy belated eighteen. I'll give you a proper present soon."

Another wave of a blush flushed itself up to my ears, he had known I had a birthday, I marvelled at this fact internally. He had remembered when my parents forgot. "Spend some time with me. That'll be present enough." I told him.

He smiled, but there was no light to it and it made my heart sink at the bottom of my stomach.

"Is something wrong?" I asked, "Don't you want to?" I paused and lifted a hand to rake through my hair. ".... Is it my last name? my blood? Is it....is it me?" I managed to look at him, dead in the eye despite my hitching voice.

He stepped away not replying, his eyes gave away the torment that was fighting itself in his mind and I think it was contagious. Since I found myself being the first to look away, staring down at our shoes.

The quality of shoes between us was telling. His boots looked fitting but they were way too worn out, clearly getting exhausted for the miles on them had long finished. But they fit him just fine and added to his devastatingly gorgeous stature. The shoes had character and so did he. Still looking at his shoes I started to paint a brush of his image in my mind.

Zhavia had the smoothest beautiful skin of my morning cream laced coffee, that's why I always drank it with everything. It reminded me of him, the heavy bitter taste of the arrabiatta coffee gave applause to his features. From the moment I'd first spoken with him, he always seemed to be weighed down by the weight of the world.

First it was something that had to do with his brother, the night they argued thinking I was asleep and I think It became more. Now that I knew how mixed people were really treated and demeaned. I supposed I understood, but I couldn't understand why he only allowed himself to be diluted with cream that came in the form of his two best friends and no one else, despite being popular. I also wondered what he saw in Crocodile that I didn't.

Even the twins, what had he seen in them that I couldn't possess.

I didn't take my coffee with sugar and I think I know why.

He didn't need me.

But he was all I needed.

I only wished to be the cream in his coffee.