oh, anna [-hs]

medicine

a/n uh oh. you know what that chapter title means... sexy times inbound...

40.

He bites his lip, staring at my own. I think he's trying to figure out what to say to me. He shifts a little under the sheets and draws his knees up to his chest, before clearing his throat and looking away out the window.

"I don't think I can sleep until I know what's going on," I rasp.

He stares out the window for a minute in silence. I watch him, waiting. Finally he takes a deep breath like he's about to start speaking. I sit deathly still.

"When Mitch and I took shrooms," he starts. My heart beats heavier. "I texted Louis."

Well that certainly was not what I expected him to say.

I sit up straighter. "Okay." I manage.

"I was just so confused by the fish."

My face crinkles up at the phrase. He notices and his eyes grow wide.

"Not—I mean it was a nice gesture. I just didn't, I don't know what it means. It's been driving me crazy." He backpedals. I nod.

"I was just, I was trying to do something I'd never done before. To be honest, I don't know what it means either."

"Well," he huffs. "That's not fun for either of us."

I tilt my head. "You were confused about the fish so you texted Louis?" I squint at him, trying to understand. He drops his head back against his headboard.

"I don't exactly remember, but when I mellowed out I checked my phone, and he had texted me back." He stares at his ceiling.

"I see."

"And then I texted him again."

I swallow dryly. "What kinds of things are you texting about?" There's a discomfort settling in the pit of my stomach, but I try to push it away. I have no right to feel upset in any way. Especially after he came to Wes's with me a couple weeks ago.

"Do you want to read them?" He blurts out and reaches for his phone, holding it out to me. I recoil a little.

"No, I don't have to," I decide. He sets the phone down by his side and stares at it. "So you didn't want me to see that you were texting him?" I try to fit the pieces together. He bites his lip and looks back up at me.

"And then I got frustrated and embarrassed, because I don't know where we stand, and if I should even be guilty about it, or if you've been talking to other people..." he trails off, his eyes desperately searching mine for an answer.

"Mm," I hum. "I'm not talking to other people, baby," I reassure softly. My hand reaches out to rest on his knee. The fabric separates the touch. "I don't know what this is, but it's special. It's something I'm taking seriously because I'm realizing just how much it means to me."

He keeps our eyes locked together, nodding.

"I don't like labels," I sigh, impatient with myself.

"I know," he murmurs, there's a teasing glimmer in his eye.

"And it's something I hate about myself more and more—" I look down at my hand on his knee. "The deeper we go, the more I don't like my commitment issues."

He rests his chin on top of my hand, begging it to move to his face. I oblige, running my thumb across his cheek.

"I'm afraid of calling us something," I whisper, "because it will hurt more when it collapses."