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He never stopped.
He really never stopped looking for my brother all this time.
He still thinks there’s a chance he’s alive, even if deep down, that seems completely ludicrous. The hope was starved out of me without anyone finding a single clue.
“You... you asshole,” I strangle out. My mouth moves automatically. I don’t know what I’m saying, whyI’m saying it, or why my eyes are welling up and I just can’t take anymore. “You overly loyal giant donkey. You... you...”
There’s a moment.
A crack in reality when those hard eyes soften.
All those years I spent when we were young, wishing he’d show some emotion.
Something plain and simple and honest.
Something easy, without having to turn myself into a human Grant decoder to understand his growls and loud silences.
Now, he finally gives me what I’m aching for with real concern flashing across his face, the way he leans into me, staring down like he’s afraid he’s broken me somehow.
“Ophelia, fuck,” he says softly. “I won’t see you hurt.”
No, but he will see me speechless tonight.
If I ever speak again, I’ll tell him how wonderfully dumb he’s being.
But right now, he’s just a giant blur past the tears.
Scalding, stupid, overwhelmed tears I don’t want to cry, but I just can’t take another bee sting to the heart.
I can’t take more confusion, more things to fear.
Holy hell, I don’t want to think about it anymore.
Because if I’m thinking, that means I won’t do what I’m doing right now.
I won’t be laying my fingers on Grant’s face, my fingers weaving through the thick, grey-shot bristle of his bearish brown beard.
Pulling him closer, even as his eyes widen.
I definitely won’t be kissing him.
Kissing. Him.
I don’t know what comes over me.
It’s too instant, too impulsive, too reckless.
Too impossible to be denied.
And now that I’ve started I can’t stop, and I can taste years of pent-up emotion in the salt between our lips as I crush my mouth to his and beg.
Don’t hurt me right now, Grant. I can’t stand another ounce of pain and disappointment.
Just give.
Give me the fire in that growl, the nip of your teeth, the sweet, sweet rush that makes me tingle.
I’m actually shaking for my longest obsession.
