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ms-swiftmalfoy · 1 year ago

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I wanna hold Michael and hug him tight until all his pain is gone. Honestly, shittiest family EVER. I wanna punch all of them.

SO GLAD HE'S BEEN RECEIVING COMFORT

I loved every word of if this chapterx Bella. Can't wait for the next one ❤️🩷🩵💜🧡

Safe Haven [Chapter Five]

Pairing: Michael Kinsella x Fem!Reader

Summary: Contracted to work on your next novel, you leave the States and move in with your sister in Dublin in hopes of a quieter, peaceful place to work on your writing. And somewhere safe to hide. But you weren't expecting to meet your sister's attractive and curious neighbor, the one fresh out of prison–Michael Kinsella. And you certainly weren't expecting to become his safe haven, or for him to become yours–especially when your past eventually finds you.

Warnings/tags: 18+ for this series; contains violence, drug use, domestic abuse, smut, hurt/comfort, angst, mutual pining, friends to lovers

Word Count: 5.2k

a/n: Chapter five is here with some emotional hurt/comfort! I've had Mikey stuck on the brain so y'all get another chapter and I hope you enjoy it! Chapter six will most likely come some time after I focus a bit more on my Matty stories. The entire list of chapters for this series can be found here. Feel free to leave love if you enjoyed this one! Mikey and Reader get a little closer...

Tag list: @loveroftoomanyfandoms @farfromstrange @rotscinema @1988-fiend @shouldbestudying41 @shiorimakibawrites @norestforthewickedshelby @mattmurdocksstarlight @acharliecoxedfan @roseallisonparker @yarrystyleeza @dramaholic18 @mattkinsella2 @ms-murdockswift @theetherealbloom @24hflower @mattmurdocksscars

“I don’t know how you watch these mindless shows,” you muttered, eyes on the reality romance show your sister was watching.

The pair of you were curled up on either end of the couch in her living room, an oversized plush blanket tossed over the both of you. You’d made dinner tonight and had it ready for when Megan had finished her shift at the hospital today, having spent your morning restocking her fridge and her pantry. You’d later spent your afternoon grudgingly working on writing after Angela had checked in with you, but you’d only managed a measly two thousand words today. You weren't exactly thrilled about that, but you had admittedly been distracted after yesterday.

Thankfully nothing strange and out of the ordinary had happened today. There had been no weird traces of him cropping up anywhere–in your life or online. Which you’d been grateful for, your fear lessening just a bit today. You figured if he’d found you, you’d certainly know by now.

“Considering my love life has been very much lacking,” Megan replied from the other end of the couch, “I’ll take my romance wherever I can get it. And speaking of–” she continued, her head rising from off the pillow as she focused on you, “–what’s going on with you and the attractive ex-felon next door?”

Your head shifted on the pillow, your attention turning to your sister. Eyebrows rising onto your forehead, you sent her a questioning look.

“What’re you talking about?” you asked her.

She rolled her eyes, a grin forming on her mouth. One of her feet nudged you in the leg before she shot you a pointed look. “Come on,” she said. “I’ve seen you and him outside chatting a couple of times now.”

“Twice,” you told her. “You’ve seen us chatting twice .”

Her grin widened into something sly. “Birdy says she saw you taking a walk with him the other day,” she shot back. “So spill, sis. Is there some romance going on in your life?”

You stiffened a little at your sister’s words. Birdy had seen you going on a walk with Michael? Well that was news to you. Unwelcome news, too, because you’d clearly done something to end up on her radar. Especially if she was chatting with Megan about you. You’d have to be careful with her.

“No,” you told Megan firmly. “There’s nothing going on there.”

“You think he’s cute?” she pressed.

“Christ, Megan!” you cursed. “What does it matter? I’m literally trying to hide out here, I’m not looking for a boyfriend! You know that!”

It only irritated you further when her smile grew wider.

“You think he’s hot, don’t you?” she teased.

You rolled your eyes, turning your attention back to the show. Megan nudged you with her foot again. When you didn’t respond, she began to repeatedly poke you with her foot, each time more aggressively than the last.

"Would you stop?" you grumbled.

"Then answer me, please," she begged.

With a huff you pushed yourself upright into a sitting position on the couch, glaring at your sister. "He's attractive, yes. Would I fuck him? Absolutely. You happy with that?" you snapped.

Megan gradually pushed herself up on the other end of the couch, her eyes meeting yours. The amused expression that had been there moments ago was quickly replaced with something serious now.

"I just want you to be happy," she said softly. "And it seems like you might be interested in him. Maybe let your guard down with him a bit? That’s all I’m saying."

One of your brows arched up at her. "You're encouraging me to date an ex-felon fresh out of prison," you pointed out. "You know that, right?"

"You and I both know there's more to someone than the mistakes of their past," she replied. "Plus," she added, her lips curling into a coy smile, "Birdy said he seems interested in you."

Your gaze dropped down to your hands where they were fidgeting with the soft, blue blanket. Twisting the fabric between your fingers, you quietly admitted, "He asked me on a date last night."

Megan practically shot herself across the couch at you, the sudden movement startling you. She gripped your shoulders tight in both hands, a bright smile spreading across her face.

"Please tell me you said yes," she begged. “ Please , for the love of God, tell me you said yes!”

"I told him no," you answered, watching as her face instantly fell. "Meg, I can't date right now. Who knows if I might need to disappear again at a moment’s notice. It would be so much harder if I had feelings for someone. Not to mention, I'd be putting him in danger, too. You know if Victor ever found out I was seeing someone he would certainly go after them."

“Well,” Megan said, “I get the feeling Michael can take care of himself.”

“I don’t want him involved,” you told her.

“He could probably help you,” she pushed.

“I don’t want him involved,” you repeated more firmly.

Her shoulders dropped as she sat back against the couch with a sigh. “Fine, at least tell me how he asked you out?” she asked. “Let me live through you? Because I haven’t been asked out on a date since shortly after I moved here.”

You shrugged, your eyes dropping back down to the blanket. “He just asked if I wanted to get drinks with him. As a thank you,” you mumbled.

“Okay, wait, hold on,” Megan said, abruptly sitting forward again and holding up a hand. “He–he asked you to get drinks as a thank you ? A thank you for what, exactly?” Her eyes widened as she excitedly asked, “Did you give him really good head or something?”

Your gaze instantly snapped up to Megan, your mouth dropping open. “No!” you shrieked. “Christ, get your mind out of the gutter. The man had a seizure the other night–or at least I’m very certain it was. He claims he doesn’t have seizures. But I saw and I helped him. That’s it.”

“You should tell him to get that checked out then,” Megan said, her tone suddenly professional. “If he has epilepsy there’s medication that’ll help.”

“Thanks nurse Megan,” you deadpanned. “I’ll certainly tell him that.”

She waved a dismissive hand at you. “Okay, so he wanted to thank you for helping him. That’s sweet, sis. He sounds sweet.”

“Yeah, he certainly seems that way,” you mumbled, your eyes returning to your fidgeting hands.

Megan bumped your shoulder with hers lightly. “Maybe you should really consider just opening up to him? Tell him the truth about Vic. I’m sure that family is great at keeping secrets with what they probably do. I bet he’d have no trouble keeping yours. And maybe he could help? You can’t exactly spend your entire life on the run, changing names and addresses every few months. That’s not living.”

“I know it’s not,” you whispered, tears stinging at your eyes.

“There’s really no harm in letting him in,” she said softly, wrapping an arm around your shoulder. “Telling him the truth. Maybe give him a chance. Who knows, you might end up happy.”

“Or he might end up dead,” you rebutted.

“Hey, you said it yourself,” Megan countered. “Victor doesn’t have the support of the Serpents on this anymore. It’s just him chasing you. They know he’s gone off the rails.”

You ducked your head, eyes dropping down to where your hands were more aggressively worrying the blanket between your fingers. “All the more reason for him to want to kill me and get on with the Club. But honestly, if he said he found me and asked them for help in any way–travel, money, disposing of my fucking body–he’d get help. They won’t actively help him search for me, but they’d certainly have his back.”

“Well I think you should give Michael a chance,” Megan replied. “Tell him the truth. Maybe get ahead of things before the Kinsellas find out you’re not who you say you are. They might be sympathetic–especially the Kinsella that wants to take you out for drinks.”

Eyes slowly shifting towards your sister, you watched her for a moment as you silently contemplated her words. Would Michael be more understanding than you’d initially thought? He had certainly seemed different than you’d envisioned him being. He had come out last night on his own just to check on you. And there was that gentleness you seemed to pick up on from him. Something warm and welcoming that you’d found yourself curious to explore. But would he be safe? Could you actually trust him? Let your guard down with him?

Could he actually hold his own against your ex?

Megan’s loud ringtone blared from her phone on the coffee table, the noise breaking through your thoughts. Your sister slipped her arm from around your shoulders and leaned forward, picking it up. You saw the frown on her lips as she looked at the screen before she answered the call.

“Hey Dev, what’s going on?” Megan asked.

You watched her quietly from your place on the couch, listening in to the one-sided conversation. It was a minute before she was off of the phone, exhaling a long breath. Slowly she turned, sending you a tense smile.

“I’m needed to cover a short shift at the hospital,” she said.

Your brows furrowed at her words. “But you just got back a couple of hours ago?”

“They’re understaffed,” she said, pushing the blanket from her lap and rising to her feet. “There was a shooting tonight.” She glanced at you, her eyes softening. “Devon said one of the Kinsella’s had been shot and…one of their younger boys had been killed accidentally in the incident.”

Lips parting in surprise, your heart suddenly pounded hard in your chest. “Michael?” you breathed out.

Megan sent you a sad smile, shaking her head. “No, his cousin Eric. But it–it was his nephew that was shot and killed.”

“Shit,” you whispered.

“I uh, I’m going to change and head out,” she said. “I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“Yeah, yeah,” you told her, waving her off. “Go. I don’t want to hold you up.”

Megan sent you one last smile before she turned, making her way up the stairs and towards her room to change. You sat there on the couch, your eyes on the television but your mind unable to focus on anything but what Megan had just told you. You figured Michael would be hurting tonight once he’d gotten this news. For some reason you couldn’t seem to shake him from your mind, even long after Megan had left for the hospital.

°•°•°•°•°•°

You’d been sitting on your bed for the past couple of hours trying to focus on your writing. Your laptop was situated on your mattress before you, your fingers hovering just over the keys as your eyes stared at the blinking cursor. Truthfully you’d barely managed to write much of anything. You couldn’t concentrate.

Shortly before you’d come upstairs there had been a handful of police down the street, their lights flashing through the front windows of Megan’s house. You’d assumed they were here informing the family of the young boy who’d been killed about the situation, especially considering the heartbreaking scream you’d heard down the street not long after they'd shown up.

You’d come upstairs to get away from the flashing lights, trying to distract yourself from the thoughts you didn’t understand why you were having. You didn’t know Michael or his family that well. This shouldn’t be bothering you as much as it was. And you’d certainly been more closely connected to shootings than this in your past.

Yet still, here you sat, unable to focus.

A light in Michael’s bedroom turned on, the sudden brightness of it catching your attention. Your eyes flew up from your laptop screen and straight towards his room, your breath catching in your throat. He shuffled into his bedroom, both of his hands covering his face. When he reached his bed, you saw him crumple to his knees–but not as if he was having a seizure. As if the pain of his grief from what had happened to his family tonight had been too much to bear and he’d simply collapsed under the weight of it.

Not even thinking, you closed your laptop, instinctively leaning forward on your bed towards your window. You were gnawing nervously on your bottom lip, your heart twisting in your chest at the sight of Michael. Unlike last time, you couldn’t just hop a fence to get to him. But would he even want you to see him like this? You were still just a stranger to him, after all. Even if he’d been interested enough to ask you on a date. He probably didn’t even know his curtains were open and that you were watching him right now. You should really look away, leave the room and give him his privacy.

But you couldn’t.

You sat there conflicted on your bed, watching his shoulders shake against the edge of his mattress. It wasn’t until you saw him slide down the side of it, curling into a ball on the floor of his bedroom, that you found yourself climbing off of your bed.

You didn’t know what it was that had come over you, but you grabbed a knitted cardigan from your closet, threw your arms into it, and then slipped your phone into your pocket. You were rushing out of your bedroom and taking the stairs two at a time soon after. As you passed the kitchen, you grabbed the house key from off of the hook and pushed your way out of the front door. You only paused to quickly lock the door behind you before you were making your way down the driveway, your arms wrapped around your chest to block some of the cold.

You rounded the stone fence and took a sharp left, making your way up Michael’s empty driveway. Still nervously chewing your lip, you came to a stop in front of his door. Your fist rose towards it, but it hovered in the air for a minute.

Was this too far? Should you just turn back around and head home? Surely he wouldn’t want you banging on his door tonight and bothering him with what was going on. But the image of Michael crumpled on the floor of his bedroom, crying all alone, flashed through your mind. That haunted, despairing look you often caught in his eyes had you wondering how much pain this man held inside and how often he was alone enduring it.

Without another thought, your fist finally closed the remaining distance, three loud knocks ringing out. Your heart began wildly beating in your chest immediately afterwards, your arms hugging yourself a bit tighter as your eyes snapped shut.

“Fuck fuck fuck,” you muttered under your breath.

You’d actually just knocked on his door. What the hell were you even going to say ? You hadn’t even thought that far ahead, just strangely drawn here by the desire to help ease his pain somehow and you didn’t even know why. Shrinking in on yourself, you took a step back. This was a bad idea, you thought. It was stupid. You should leave him alone.

Turning away from his door, you ducked your head and started to make your way back to your place. Though you’d only made it three steps before you heard the door unlock and swing open behind you. You winced, pausing at the sound of his voice.

“Grace?”

Sucking in a sharp breath, you slowly turned around. Michael was standing in his doorway dressed in a pair of gray sweatpants, his blue and white striped sweater rumpled on his torso. His hair was a mess, as if he’d been running his hands through it, and you could see the dampness on his cheeks and the redness in his eyes. He looked broken and exhausted from where he stood in the doorway, but it also looked like he was doing his best to bury all of that back down.

“Hey,” you greeted him awkwardly.

“What’re ya–ya doin’ here?” he asked, clearing his throat. “Somethin’–somethin’ wrong? Did ya need help?”

Your lips parted in surprise at his words. With what you knew he had going on, his first thought was to ask if you needed help? For a moment you stood there stunned and speechless as his sorrowful eyes scanned you over. Snapping out of it, you shook your head.

“No, I–” you began, but you quickly stopped yourself.

What the hell did you even say?

Swallowing hard, your mouth felt like it was drying up as your nerves swirled in your gut. In the doorway, Michael’s face fell. He nodded slowly, his eyes dropping to his feet.

“So ya heard, yeah?” he asked quietly.

You nervously shifted your weight from foot to foot as you stood there before him. “Uh, yeah,” you admitted.

He nodded again, his eyes still not focused on you. “Ya come to tell me to stay away? Because I understand, don’t worry. I won’t–”

“No,” you cut him off quickly.

His eyes rose, landing back on yours almost instantaneously. The dark brows on his forehead pulled tight together, a crease forming between them. He looked a mixture of shocked and confused.

“I came to see how you were doing,” you admitted. “Megan–my half-sister–was called back to the hospital. She uh, she mentioned what happened and I–I wanted to make sure you were doing okay…I guess.”

The expression on his face never changed as he stood there leaning against the doorframe. Even in the dim light washing over him from the room behind him, you could see the way his eyes were studying your face very closely.

“Ya came to see if I was okay?” he clarified after a moment.

You shrugged, ducking your head as you ran a hand across your forehead. God you felt dumb. Of course he wasn’t okay. And you sounded like an idiot right now.

“Yeah, I don’t know,” you began, feeling the words beginning to tumble out of your mouth before you could stop them. “I heard what happened and I figured you wouldn’t be in a good place when you heard the news. But then I–I saw you in your room.” You shook your head, grimacing as your voice picked up and the word vomit continued to spill out of your mouth. “And I wasn’t trying to invade your privacy or anything, I swear, but your curtains were open and the light turning on caught my attention. I–I was going to leave and give you your privacy but then you just looked so upset that I–I found myself suddenly over here wanting to see if you were okay.” You inhaled a shaky breath, your focus still downcast as your mind screamed at you to stop talking. “It just seemed like maybe you could use some comfort–or maybe to not be alone–but I’m also quite aware of the fact that you barely know me and this is incredibly weird.”

You took a breath, feeling absolutely embarrassed at everything that had just come pouring out of you as you glanced back up at him. He was still standing in the doorway, his mouth hanging open. Confusion and something else was etched very noticeably across his features as he continued to silently gape at you. You immediately felt more ridiculous.

“I’m sorry, this was incredibly weird and intrusive,” you said quickly, taking two steps back. “I’m just–just going to go. Sorry.”

As you were turning to leave, you saw him quickly step out of his house. You paused, your back towards him as your heart hammered heavily in your chest. When he spoke next, you glanced over your shoulder back at him.

“No, stay,” he begged. “Please.”

Michael crossed the bit of distance between the pair of you, your body moving of its own accord and turning back to face him. You could see the glisten of fresh tears in his eyes when he reached you, his lips trembling.

“You’re right,” he breathed out. “I don’t want to be alone. But I–” he paused, his eyes closing as a tear slipped down his cheek, “–I’m always the one expected to be strong.”

When his eyes opened, they landed back on yours. With the amount of pain so visibly staring back at you through them, it took every ounce of strength to keep from drawing him into a hug and offering some form of physical comfort to him. You knew what that felt like, always needing to be strong even when you felt like you were anything but that.

“D’ya…want to come in?” he asked softly, gesturing his head back to his house. “I know ya said ya weren’t comfortable before but…would that be alrigh’?”

Megan’s words were echoing in your mind from just a few hours ago–she’d urged you to let him in. And now you’d already came over here with the intention of trying to comfort him, why not listen to her a little more? Surely Michael wasn’t going to do anything to hurt you if you went inside with him. Maybe now was an opportunity to trust him just a little more.

“Okay,” you answered softly.

A sad smile tugged up the corners of Michael’s lips just a bit. He nodded once before he turned, trudging his way back into his house. Awkwardly you followed behind, stepping inside and closing the door behind you. When you turned back around, you saw him already making his way down the short hallway into what appeared to be the sitting room at the far end. Slipping off your shoes beside his, you bit your lip and made your way past his kitchen and down the hallway after him, passing by a mirror as you went and cringing at your own disheveled state.

The first thing you noticed in the dimly lit sitting room were the three bullet holes on the wall not too far from his sofa. Near those holes, the wallpaper was peeling up in a few places. Eyes shifting, you spotted the brick fireplace across from his sofa–instantly your eyes were drawn to the unmistakable bullet hole in the brick. Clearly something had happened here, and you assumed whatever it was probably had to do with why Birdy had initially said Michael wouldn’t want to stay in this house. You found yourself curious, but that wasn’t something to be brought up tonight.

Making your way over to the sofa, you sat down near Michael but not quite too close. You felt tense and uncertain, truthfully not sure where to go from here.

“I’m…sorry about your nephew,” you said slowly, your eyes focused on your hands in your lap. “And your cousin.”

“I was there,” he breathed out.

At his words, your head whipped in his direction. He was focused on his coffee table, his eyes unblinking as he spoke. Your heart was constricting in your chest at the pain emanating from him beside you.

“It was my fault,” he whispered. “Jamie had offered to bring me to the gym tonight.” Michael shook his head, the tears once again welling up in his eyes. “Didn’t even have a license yet. I shouldn’ have let him.” His eyelids slowly lowered as he drew in a shuddering breath. “The bullet wasn't meant for him. It shouldn’–shouldn’ have been Jamie. But he was–was already gone when I realized–”

He broke off mid-sentence, his body folding in half on the sofa as he buried his face in his hands. With tears stinging at your own eyes, you cautiously slid closer towards him on the cushions. Very hesitantly you raised a hand, carefully lowering it to his shoulder.

“It shouldn’ have been him!” he choked out. “He was just a boy!”

“I’m sorry,” you whispered.

“Was such a–a good kid,” Michael mumbled. “Whole future ahead of him. Now he’s–he’s just gone .”

You felt a few tears slip out of your own eyes, the back of your right hand raising up to wipe them away. Your left hand began gently rubbing a hesitant but soothing pattern along Michael’s shoulder. You noticed how he quickly leant into your touch, clearly craving the comfort that you figured he must not often receive. Something else you could relate to.

“And his mother and my brother are–are so heartbroken,” he continued, his voice cracking and muffled behind his hands as he spoke. “Losin' their son. And everyone is–is tellin' me how I need to be there for them. How it's goin' to be so hard on them dealin' with everythin'. But–"

He paused, a sob wracking through him loudly and shaking his shoulder beneath your hand. Your heart ached at the sound, but when he very slowly turned his head from its place in his hands, his body still crumpled in half as he looked up at you beside him, you felt like your heart completely broke.

His face was streaked in tears, more of them pouring out of his eyes and streaming down his face as he gazed up at you. Michael’s face was twisted and pinched with grief, his lips visibly trembling again. It hurt to see him like this.

"He was mine," he breathed out.

You stiffened on the sofa at his words when he'd spoken, those three words taking you by surprise. Had you just heard him right?

"Jamie was mine , too," he confessed, his voice hoarse. "It was–was a stupid thing, havin' an affair with my brother's wife back then. But Jaime was my boy, too."

Your face instantly softened as your eyes held his. You couldn't even begin to imagine the emotional pain he must have been experiencing right now after having just witnessed his own son's death in front of him.

"I'm–I'm so sorry," you whispered. "I–I can't imagine what you must be feeling."

He sent you a sad, watery smile. "The interestin' part about it all is," he said softly, "that out of everyone in my family–all o' them knowin' the damn truth–the only one askin' how I am is…you."

Your mouth opened and closed a few times, unsure how to respond to what he had said or the way in which he was looking at you right now.

So he'd had an affair with his brother's wife quite a few years back–from the brief glimpse you'd seen of Jaime a few days ago he looked to be about sixteen or seventeen. And apparently that affair all those years ago had resulted in a child. One that everyone in his family apparently knew was his, yet no one thought to offer Michael comfort over his passing? To just ask how he was doing?

"Birdy she–she was tellin' me I need to be there for Amanda and Jimmy when she picked me up from the station after the questionin' 'bout the shootin'," he continued. "And Amanda–" he paused, his eyes closing as he leaned into your hand on his shoulder further. "She only wanted to know about his last moments. Came over a bit ago to ask how he died. Didn't bother to ask how I was. Not after–after what I'd been through watchin' our son die."

More tears began to fall from his closed eyes, his body slumping further forward as if his grief was pulling him down. You simply gave in to your instincts this time, unable to hold them back. Wrapping both of your arms around his neck, you carefully drew him towards you. Michael didn't protest in the slightest. He easily wrapped his arms around your waist and buried his face against your shoulder. You could feel the dampness of his tears seeping through your sweater but you didn’t remotely care. You had absolutely no idea what it was drawing you to Michael, what had made you want to be here for this man you barely knew, but it felt right somehow.

“I don’t know why I’m tellin’ ya all this,” he mumbled against you, his words almost mirroring your thoughts. “Probably shouldn’ be. Sure you’re not warmin’ up to me hearin’ all this. Sleepin’ with my brother’s wife. My son gettin’ shot tonight.”

“That was years ago,” you replied, holding him to you. “And not really any of my business, either. And you’ll come to find I’m…quite open-minded to people’s pasts.”

Michael huffed out a laugh, his warm breath grazing your neck. “Got me wonderin’ what that means, Grace,” he mused.

The corner of your lip pulled up ever so slightly, your right hand sliding up from its place along his back and up into his hair. Your fingers lightly carded through the dark strands, feeling a bit of tension ease from him as he relaxed further into you.

“It’s not really important at the moment,” you whispered.

Michael's head shifted on your shoulder, goosebumps rising along your forearms under your sweater the moment his lips briefly grazed the sensitive skin of your neck, his beard faintly rasping against you. Your eyes fell closed, wondering momentarily why it felt so good having this almost stranger in your arms, especially under the circumstances.

“Why’d ya come check on me?” he murmured.

“I don’t–don’t really know,” you admitted.

There was a moment of silence that fell between the pair of you before Michael slowly raised his head from your shoulder, drawing back from you just a bit. His eyes met yours and your heart stuttered in your chest at the way he was looking at you. You felt like you couldn’t breathe.

“Why’d ya stay?” he whispered.

Swallowing hard, you felt yourself once again getting lost in his eyes. Besides the obvious pain and sadness reflecting back at you, it looked like something else was slowly surfacing as they held onto yours. Something that looked a lot like hope.

“Because it seemed like you needed someone,” you answered.

One of his hands released you, unwinding its way from around your waist and slowly reaching up. Hesitantly he gently cupped your cheek in his large, warm palm. That sad smile returned to his mouth, his eyes still locked on yours. You didn’t know why your pulse was racing with him touching you so tenderly, in a way you’d never really been touched before. And you didn’t know why you were suddenly feeling things you probably shouldn’t have been feeling, either.

“Thank you,” he said firmly, enunciating the words purposefully. “For bein’ here when no one else ever has been.”

His thumb lightly stroked along your cheekbone, the calloused pad rough on your skin but somehow soothing. You found yourself overcome with the urge to lean in and kiss him–and that had certainly startled you. But for some reason, you weren’t bolting out of the front door like you should have been doing. Instead, your mouth was saying things it had no right to be saying.

“I’ll be here as long as you need me to be,” you told him.

And the ensuing warm smile that slipped onto his face at your words, despite the tears welling back up in his eyes, had you meaning every word of what you’d said.

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