25 parts Ongoing MatureAll characters and plot lines are created by me. If you see anyone copying any of the things listed, contact me immediately thank you.
"You think this is easy for me? That it's not killing me too? I hated running from you. I hate it. But I don't know what else to do, Beckett!" I exclaim, feeling the power rush through my veins. "These past few weeks," I sigh and wince as the memory comes roaring back, "They have been some of the most torturous that I've ever endured. I have been driving myself and everyone else insane because of it. My heart is calling out for you and as much as I wish I could, I can't just shove it in a box, lock it and ignore it like I did everything else."
He doesn't speak for a long moment. The muscles in his jaw twitch as he processes my words -- as if he's forcing himself not to speak too soon.
His eyes search mine, fierce yet soft all at once, like he's memorising every fracture in my voice. Then, finally, he says, "Then stop pretending you have to run from something that's already yours." He takes a slow step forward. "You think you're the only one who's been going crazy? You left for work then vanished like I meant nothing--and I let you." He pauses, as if collecting his thoughts. "Because I thought maybe that was what you needed. Space. Time. But do you know what it did to me, Alex?" His voice cracks, just slightly, as my heart cracks open a tiny bit more. "Every time my phone buzzed, I hoped it was you. Every night I laid in that bed--my bed--I wished that I'd said something different. Done something different." He sits beside me, not touching me, just there. Close enough that I feel his warmth. "I don't want you to shove this in a box. I want you to open it. Let it spill everywhere. Be messy with me, Alex, I'll take all of it--every sharp edge, every storm, if it means I get to be the one you stop running from." And then he whispers, barely audible. "Please."