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Ronan
-One year ago-
“You really lasted a long time in that apartment.” I laugh at Corey, as he pours me a glass of beer after I rush in after watching Noah through the store windows for God-knows what time.
“Well, you can’t blame me. I couldn’t keep breaking Noah’s heart every time he came looking for you,” he winks. “The poor guy was there on the same date for six months straight. And you keep watching him like a creep, knowing everything.”
“Do you think he still goes to check if I’m there?”
“Oh, I know for a fact he does. The guy who moved in told me he still goes there monthly. I never spilled the beans, though.”
“Thank you.” I smile softly at my best friend.
He is the only one who knows what I’m going through. He is the one who wipes my tears away almost every night, or soothes me when I wake up crying and panicking. I still haven’t met Marko, though I’ve heard so much about him and his kids. Every time my mother mentions Noah, my stomach flips. I feel like she knows, even though there is no way she does. She talks about Jensen the most. He is seventeen, works out and is very athletic. I guess he is the child my mother always wanted.
“You know, one day you will have to go there and meet all of them, love. And face Noah.”
“I know. I just... I am not ready yet,” I sigh. “What would I say?”
“I honestly have no idea. Pretend you are confused, like ‘omg, what are you doing here, what’, you get it?” Corey jokes in a high pitched voice, but his idea doesn’t seem bad at all.
“I will introduce myself again. I mean, there will probably be our parents around us, or something,” I respond. “I can’t letthemknow that I met Noah, or how intimately I know him.”
“Yeah, you might be right,” he says and gulps his beer down, turning back to the screen in front of us and slinging his arm around my shoulders.
I have refused to go to their wedding anniversary today, and I got berated for it, again. I don’t know how long I can take this type of behavior from her. I don’t deserve it. I mean, I can’t peel my skin off, I can’t use a chainsaw to cut away my tummy, or to make a thigh gap. And even though I might have wanted that before, I don’t want it anymore. Not after that night with Noah.Iwas worshiped and loved. I saw that someone likemecould be worshiped and loved, and I never knew that before.
My body, my rolls, my thick thighs, everything about me got him so aroused and worked up he couldn’t keep his hands away. I still touch myself to the thoughts of him licking through my folds against the door. To be honest, I don’t know what I domorewhen I’m thinking about it. I either cry or masturbate, and I am not keeping count. My replica of him does a pretty good job, but… I wish it wasrealNoah right there.
At least some things in my life are getting better. I got a promotion. I mean, I am not actually sure I will accept it, since it’s in Oaks Creek, and that means potentially being forced to spend time with my degrading mother, but still. The animal shelter I work at is branching through the small towns in this side of the country, and they’ve offered me a manager role. I said I will think about it, and to be frank, I am eighty percent sure I will take it, if they still let me work and play with animals.
***
- April this year -
Since it’s almost summer, and I wear lots of light clothes and dresses, I made Corey promise he will pierce my tragus, but also my nipples. Yeah, I am that desperate to feel just a touch closer to Noah. He has his dick pierced, I will have my nipples pierced. Both are intimate, one is less painful.
The bell jingles once I walk in the studio, and Corey smiles at me from behind the counter.
“What can I do for you today?” he asks politely, circling the pult and pulling me into a tight hug.
“The nipps and the tragus, please.”
“I didn’t peg you as someone that kinky.” The corners of his lips twitch with amusement.
“There is nothing kinky about it, I think it’s gorgeous, and you actually know the reason why I’m doing these.” I say, pointing to my nipples.
“Tragus first, right?”
“Yeah.” I sit on the slanted black leather chair, moving my hair out of the way.
As Corey prepares all of the necessary machinery for my piercings, I look around the studio, absently rubbing my wrist, and my ‘ljubavi’tattoo on it. I’ve been doing it for comfort, or to calm myself down. It still hurts to look at, and I doubt it will ever stop.
Corey reaches me and pushes his gloved hand through my hair, moving it away from my ear. The smell of disinfectant he is rubbing on my ear is strong, and it feels really cold. It’s making me shiver.
“Are you nervous? You weren’t this nervous about any of your tattoos or piercings so far,” he asks, looking at me like I’ve just grown a second head.
“No, it’s just… I haven’t done any since…” I look apologetically at him.
