𝐏𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐞 𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐢𝐧' 𝐆𝐮𝐲 ➺ 𝐵𝓇𝒾𝒶𝓃 𝑀𝒶𝓎 & 𝒬𝓊𝑒𝑒𝓃

41. Everything I Say, I Mean

"I don't want to go back downstairs, not gonna lie," I mumbled into my hands, lying on my back on the plush sheets of my old bed. "I want to curl up in a ball and die."

"Don't say things like that, Maria. There's no benefit in it, is there?" The bed dipped as Brian sat down next to me. I rolled to the side, seeking comfort in the warmth of his body. I whimpered, rolling onto my side completely and burying my head in his stomach, resting on his lap. His hand gently stroked my hair, offering some solace to my growing anxiety, although it couldn't dispel it entirely. "It'll only be bad or awkward initially, yeah?" He coaxed me to sit up beside him, our faces now at eye level.

"I don't want them to hurt you," I whispered, locking my gaze with his beautiful hazel eyes. It was true. Despite Brian's strength and resilience, my parents had a way of phrasing things that would make you question everything about yourself. Intentionally or not, they preyed on your insecurities, amplifying them tenfold.

"Oh, Maria, darling. They can't hurt me," he whispered, cupping my face in his hands. "And they won't hurt you, not while I'm here. I've witnessed too much pain inflicted on you by your family and being up here. I won't let you go back home with any more."

Home. London was my home. It was something I never thought I'd say, but here I was, proud of it. My home was with Brian and the boys, including Emma and Mary.

"I love you." Lowering my whisper even further, I made sure it was just between the two of us.

He responded by pressing his lips to mine, his words echoing in our shared embrace. As our lips met, it felt as if Brian's confidence and courage had infused into my veins, becoming a permanent part of me.

Pulling away, my thoughts forced my eyes to focus on my feet. "I hope I didn't leave any tracks downstairs." I still had my trainers on. I kicked them off, finding myself stalling. I'm awful, I know, just say it. Brian chuckled beside me, following suit and slipping off his clogs. That's when I realised that he'd worn the clogs I got him for Christmas. I smiled at the fact before I decided it was time to face the harsh hit of reality.

"Right..." I sighed, pulling myself up onto my feet with an exaggerated groan. "Let's just get this over with."

"I'm sure everything will be fine, love." Brian ran his hand over my back as we made our way out into the upstairs landing and hallways.

"Oh my God, is this the Rockstar?!"

I turned my head in the direction of the voice and squealed in delight, rushing forward to engulf my fifteen-year-old partner in crime in a tight hug. He wriggled in my hold, feigning disgust but ultimately returning the gesture with as much emotion as he could muster.

"I missed you. You left me alone. With them." Chris grimaced when he pulled away, resting a hand on his hip and looking over my shoulder. I flushed a bit, promptly moving to the side. I reached out to Brian, and he took my hand as I almost presented him to my brother as though he was a prized possession.

"Chris, this is my boyfriend, Brian, and Bri, this is my baby brother, Christopher. But call him Chris because if you don't, he goes all mardy and he stops talking to everyone."

"Shut up, you're the one who came up during the holiday season with a face like a slapped arse."

I rolled my eyes, looking towards Brian, who just watched and listened with amusement. I squeezed his hand. "As you can tell, we're both very well versed in the art of speaking like a pair of true Yorkshire scrubbers." I winked at him as he shook Chris' hand with his free one.

"Is there a, uh, reason why I'm referred to as the Rockstar?" Brian asked him softly, glancing at me out of the corner of his eye.

I shot a glare at Chris to warn him. He returned it with that snarky smirk and acted as though he didn't notice me.