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Paul

I need to get my shit together. I’m punishing him for my own issues, and it’s not fair, but I don’t have the words yet to explain it. He didn’t do anything wrong. It was my own imagination fucking with me. My insecurities playing with my fears.

But I’m scared.

Scared to allow myself to love him as deeply as I want to.

Scared to admit just how obsessed with him I am.

Scared I’ll lose him.

And being angry is easier, so I’ve funneled the fear into anger. When I look pissed, people leave me alone. Someone may ask what’s wrong, but I just tell them to fuck off and they do.

So, I’m fuming. I have been all goddamn day. I could barely pay attention in classes, and I’m sure practice in a few hours will be a shitshow.

Stomping my way to my room, I freeze with my hand on the doorknob when I hear noise inside. Sounds like Brendon is sick again. Fuck. He’s extra clingy when he doesn’t feel good, and I’m the worst fucking husband for not checking in on him. I should have. I knew he wasn’t feeling well today, and I’m sure he can tell I’m in a shit mood, which will stress him out.

I hear the toilet flush and his stumbling steps back to bed. Opening the door quietly, I find him curled up in a ball on his bed with his blanket pulled over his head. He’s pathetic when he’s sick, like a big baby who just wants to be cared for. It’s so opposite to how he normally is.

I hate when he doesn’t feel good, but it’s always made me happy to take care of him.

I set my bag down and stand there staring at him for a few minutes. Part of me wants to curl up behind him, pull him into my chest, and rub his stomach until he falls asleep. But I’m struggling to let go of the anger and fear.

After a few minutes of arguing with myself, I kick off my shoes since we have a few hours before practice and feel his forehead. He groans at the touch, reaching for my hand to pull me closer.

As much as I don’t want to, I pull my hand back.

“Do you need anything? Water? Something to eat?” I ask.

“Just you.” His voice is sad and needy. “I need you, Paul.” His voice is thick with emotion.

“What did you do after you jumped on Jeremy’s back, wrenching my shoulder?” I need to know. I hate that I’m questioning him, but I need the reassurance anyway.

“Why was your hand up Jeremy’s pants?” he asks defensively and rolls over to look at me.

“Don’t change the subject.” I grip his chin in my hand, not letting him turn away from me.

“I did shots and went bobbing for dicks.” Brendon’s answer is not what I was expecting. “I screamed into a karaoke machine while twerking on a porch railing.” Fucking what? “I was wasted.” He stands, forcing me to take a step back. “Why? What is going on with you? Did I do something I don’t remember? Did I out you?”

There’s a pain in his eyes that isn’t normally there. One that cuts me to the core.

“I’m fully aware that I’m a shitshow, that you could do a lot fucking better than my pathetic ass, but I love you, and the last thing I want to do is hurt you.” Brendon holds my gaze while his turns glassy.

I grab the back of his neck and pull his forehead to mine, close my eyes, and take a deep breath.

“I want you.” I press my lips to his in a soft kiss and align our bodies. Brendon opens the blanket and wraps it around us. “But I’m fucking scared of how much I love you.”

He shakes his head and shoves his face into my neck. “I want more.”

My heart sings at his muffled words. “More what?”

“Of you.”

I wrap my arms around him and smile. “You’re mine, understand? Only mine.”

Brendon nods into my neck, his unshaved cheeks scratching against my skin. “I’m yours, you’re mine. I want all of you. Don’t hold back.”

We stand in the middle of our room for several minutes, just holding each other.

“Will you cuddle me now? I feel like shit,” Brendon whines, and I chuckle.

“Yeah, come on.” I step out of his hold and grab his hand, pulling him along with me to my bed. I lay down and get situated before Brendon lays on my chest and throws a leg over mine.

I run my hand through the long hair he still has on top of his head, and he shudders. Since he doesn’t feel good, I expect him to fall asleep quickly, but he doesn’t.

“Something on your mind?”

He rubs his cheek against my chest a few times before he speaks. “Why did you want to know what I did last night?”

I sigh but let the words out instead of keeping them in. He deserves my honesty. If I want this to work, really fucking work for the long term, I have to talk to him even if it hurts.

“I saw someone I thought was you go into one of the frat houses and get a BJ.” My face heats and tears sting the backs of my eyes. “I couldn’t believe it, so I followed him in to get a better look at his face, and I still thought it was you.” A tear falls, trailing down my temple into my hair. “It hurt.” That pain starts in my chest again, and I rub at it. Brendon shifts to look up at me. “I tried to walk away, but I couldn’t. It wasn’t you.”

He’s quiet again, and I don’t know if he’s processing what I said or working himself up to tell me off.

“I’m sorry I disappeared on you and made you doubt me.” He burrows into the blanket, covering most of his face. “I hope you know I would never do that to you, doesn’t matter how drunk I was.”

“Logically, I know that.” I’m trying to keep my body relaxed, but something he said is circling my head. I’m a shitshow. You could do a lot fucking better than my pathetic ass.

“Has someone told you you’re hard to love?” My words are quiet in the dark of our room, and Brendon tenses against me. I don’t push him for an answer. His reluctance to respond is a resounding yes.

“Yeah.” He takes a deep, shuddering breath.

“Hey.” I reach into the blanket and lift his chin so he’s looking at me. “Whatever was said to you is not true.”

Tears spring to Brendon’s eyes, and he chokes on a sob. I wrap my arms around him as he cries, his body shaking from the emotional release, and I run my hands up and down his back while I murmur to him.

I love this guy more than I thought was possible. He fills the holes in my heart that my parents left, completes a part of me that I didn’t know was incomplete.

“I love you,” I murmur into his hair, and he falls asleep wrapped around me.