Forgotten childhood memories

Of course she was going to drift off the moment she got to close her eyes. He should've stopped her, but he couldn't make himself. Instead he just held her close, looking out at the city as he smiled to himself. Even though she was sleeping, he knew he could talk to her. "I know you worry about a lot of things, most of them things you can't even remember," he said in a faint mutter. It didn't matter if she heard him or not. No, for him he just had things he wanted to say. "But I think you worry too much about something you can't even control ... It's like worrying about whether it's going to rain or not, you just don't know until the clouds start to change color."
Sighing to himself he sat there for a while with her before he got up. He wrapped her in the blanket, keeping her warm as he carried her downstairs and in to their room. It was a bit hard on him, especially with his hurt shoulder, but for her he could do anything. He placed her down on the bed, and he went over to turn off the lights.

Eugene heard her whimper, his heart hurting at how she cried, and he hurried over to her, only having managed to get out of his pants, but it didn't matter. He crawled under the duvet to her, pulling her in to his arms, "I'm sorry ... I'm right here ... Right here, I promise," he whispered in a hush voice. He felt his mind starting to churn. Was this how she was when he wasn't there to hold her? It felt like a slap to the face, a real waking up. Kissing her forehead, he just held her close, letting her feel his warmth, his breath and his embrace. "Don't worry, I'll never leave you," he promised her, even if she was sleeping he said it, because he knew now that he could keep that promise. His fingers brushing up and down her back, letting her calm down, or he hoped it worked.

He felt how she calmed down and he adjusted himself a little, snuggling up closer to her and closing his eyes. That was when she started whimpering again, grasping on to his shirt, pleading with him, but he hadn't expected to hear what followed. I love you. He felt his eyes water a little, kissing her forehead as he kept his eyes closed, scared to start crying. "I'm right here, I love you too," he whispered back at her, kissing her down her nose, but for some reason hesitating with kissing her lips. But in the past it had been the best way to calm her down. He just hoped she would forgive him when she woke up. Leaning in, he held her cheek gently with one hand, leaning in to kiss her rather innocently and softly. "I love you, Zippy."

He could feel her wake up, mostly because her breathing changed and the small snore was gone. He then felt how she returned the kiss, his heart skipping a beat. Her whisper soft as she kissed him again that it made his heart ache. But the guilt was there again, making him pull away, "Sorry for waking you ... You had a nightmare, I didn't know what to do," he apologized in a hushed whisper. He looked at her in the dark, her grey eyes almost illuminating as he touched her cheek. "Sorry 'bout the kiss too; I know what we agreed to," he whispered, feeling so sad that he couldn't just enjoy it. He missed her kisses. He missed how she didn't hesitate to pull him in when they were alone, but then again he couldn't really fault her for this. "You should maybe get out of your clothes," he then said. How many times had she not falled asleep with clothes on only to complain about it the next day.

He watched her get out of bed, not being able to see much in the dark, but she soon enough returned. He removed his shirt and socks, crawling under the duvet with her. However he couldn't help but frown at her words, "I haven't even read your logs," he confessed. Reaching out he touched her side lightly, feeling the old tank top that she had always been wearing, or so it seemed. Understanding that she might've not felt comfortable enough around him to take it off, he didn't even mention it. "You told me that you loved me," he said, looking down as he felt guilty for bringing it up. She couldn't control herself when she was dreaming, but he did wonder what had triggered her to say it. He hadn't heard her talk like that in her sleep before.

Why not? Well for one he wanted to respect her privacy and two he didn't feel comfortable reading about her when he could just ask her. She went on to explain her dreams, and he sighed softly. So she wasn't saying it to him, but the Eugene she had in her dreams. She spoke about having found him but the dream him still leaving her. His hand playing a bit with the edge of her tank top. "Do you mean what you say in your dreams?" He asked. Even if she hadn't said it to him, maybe the problem was that she didn't really love him but just said it in pure desperation. "Because if you don't mean it, then you shouldn't say it," he said, kissing her head gently. He could feel how tired she still was, but he just felt wide awake.

So she hadn't meant it. At least that was what he gathered when she wouldn't reply. It stung. His heart aching because of course she didn't love him. How could she? She barely knew him. She pulled away, asking something that had an easy answer but a complex explanation. "You did," he said, smiling a little sadly at her in the dark. "But it just can't be helped," he told her. It wasn't her fault that he couldn't let go. And it wasn't helping that she was still so affectionate with him. If she just pushed him away or refused to sleep in the same bed as him, then maybe it would've been easier. "When I tell you that I love you, I mean it," he said a little seriously, "I don't say it to make you stay, I say it because I can't hold back when I'm with you." Well he could hold back on the physical. How many times had he not wanted to kiss her more? Pull her in, let her feel what she did to his body? No, he couldn't do that with her, because she didn't love him the way he loved her. And that was perhaps how things were always going to be.

He felt like he couldn't win with her. She moved away from his touch and reaching out just made her swat his hand away. He sighed, getting up from the bed, walking over to his desk. The silence went on for a while, he just sat at his desk, not even drawing or tinkering. He wanted to give her space, and even that would probably make her think that he was mean. "I'm being mean to myself too," he finally said, his voice shaking a little. Resting his elbows on his desk he rubbed his face. "Because I still can't see what you might see in me," he admitted, he had always been so insecure, and with his illness now not standing in the way of things he was starting to wonder if he would ever feel good about himself. He rubbed his eyes, "you know what's mean?" He muttered looking over to her, "that I'm always the one who has to apologise, even when you hurt me." He said.

Why would she know? It wasn't like he told her. The pillow was thrown and he felt it his the back of his head, his shoulders trembling as he got to his feet. He stood for a while, contemplating leaving to cool down, but instead he walked to her. He placed a palm against her neck, just feeling her skin, "You told me you loved me." He knew love wasn't meant to be easy, but he felt like he was hurting so badly. "And I don't know if you say it because you mean it, or just because you want me to stick around," he said. How could he know? She always shied away from it with words, but he could feel her longing to be close to him. "I know that I'm maybe not the most attractive guy, I know that I don't know what I'm doing half the time, but fuck ..." he muttered the swear, feeling so tired and angry with himself. "All I ever wanted from you was your love, and I feel selfish and stupid and mean." He shook his head, his hand letting go, falling down beside him. "I thought that if I could get better then you might love me, not out of pity, but because I could be somewhat attractive maybe?" He was such a wuss, wasn't he?

Her muttered made him frown but what she yelled at him made his heart break. He sat down on the bed as she went to leave, his whole body shaking. This was what he wanted, right? This was how he could move on! But why did it hurt so much. He started crying, so tired of always fighting. He hadn't cried much, not since he had gotten the news that Jane had died, but it was like that all over again. Sniffling a bit he tried to calm himself, looking to her as she was sitting on the floor too. Why did they keep hurting one another like this? Maybe because he was too stubborn to realise just how much had changed.
He eventually got up from the bed, walking over to her he kneeled down, taking her head between his hands. Lifting her chin a bit he looked at her in the dark. "I love ... I love ... I love you," he stammered, caressing her cheeks with his thumbs. His own eyes were still fluid, but it was as if he had realised that no matter what he would still love her. Even if she hated him, he loved her, and that was a blessing and a curse. "I'm going to carry you to bed now, and we're going to sleep ... tomorrow we can finish this, but both of us shouldn't be fighting right now," he said, having to be the voice of reason. He picked her up, even if she was squirming he wouldn't back down before she was on the bed. He pulled her close to his chest, holding her tight even if she started hitting him.

She fought back, but he knew that if he let go he wouldn't ever forgive himself. His chest was burning slightly where she had scratched and bitten him, but it wasn't too bad. Eventually she calmed down, her question making him sigh. She still didn't understand. His face being held he looked at her, his eyes vulnerable, but he wasn't sure she could see that in the dark. "Because I made a promise," he said, touching her back in calming strokes, wanting to soothe her. "I promised you would never be alone again, and me telling you I love you is reminding you of that promise." He did love her, truly and deeply, and even if she couldn't understand he would keep saying it. "I don't need you to ever say it back, hell you can keep telling me that you hate me and it won't change how I feel about you," he said. "Love isn't about being perfect, it's about accepting one another, and finding a place where you belong; and simply put I know I belong with you."

She was getting angry again, but he remained as he always had been, calm and perhaps a little hurt. But as she started calling him a liar he grabbed around her, turning them around so she was below him. He held her hands from hitting him, looking at her he leaned down to kiss her lips. He wasn't a liar, and he was going to show her that. If she kissed him back he would moan softly in to her mouth, "I want you," he whispered between his moans, kissing her again, but his kisses were different. This was what he had been holding back from her, and he was realizing she would need to feel the extend of his love. Still holding her hands with one hand, his other moved down along her body, knowing all her small pressure points. "Do you really think that if I didn't want you my body would react like this?" he asked, pressing softly against her, letting her feel him through their clothing. "I want you because you're beautiful, because you're smart ... Because you're my best friend," he said, looking at her with serious eyes, "I don't want anyone else, just you as you are right now; sure it hurts that you can't remember me, but your body can." His voice having a slight rasp to it as he spoke in such a low tone. He kissed her down her neck, his free hand grasping slightly at her tank top.

He held her still, feeling her body react to what he did, even hearing her moan back as he pressed against her. She could really produce some beautiful sounds, couldn't she? At first he thought she gave in, but of course not. She had to fight it, even though she could feel this just as well as he could. Her exclamations made him smile against the skin on her neck, holding her down with relative ease. "Why would I lie to the girl I love?" he whispered against her skin, his hand moving under her tank top, playing lightly with his fingers over her stomach. "Do you want me to show you? Is that it?" he whispered, though he wouldn't do anything without her consent, he sorta liked having the power right now. He had always been weak and following her lead, but now he was in control.
If she agreed, he would move his hand up, squeezing carefully around one of her breasts, moaning in to her neck as he rolled his hips to greet hers. Using his knees he pushed her legs more open for him, squeezing the soft tissue as his lips went to work on her neck, sucking lightly over her pulse. "Don't hold back on me ... Don't fight it ... Feel it," he said, being done with words for now, pulling away to look at her as he pinched her nipple lightly in a tease, "that's it, good girl."