#javier being the situationship king he is

[postmortemnivis]

"why're you here?"

you never knew much about javier peña. 

his voice was always sharp anytime you tried to ask for something about him, and you felt so pathetic each time he’d snap at you after your sweet toned questions. you’d tried to tell yourself that maybe he was just shy or reserved, but you knew too well he wasn’t either of the two.

what you did know for a fact was that he would never call before 11, he’d never talk much about himself—whether it was his personal life or his family—and he didn’t care how long he’d been ignoring you; he’d still call without shame, and then he knew how to hit all your right spots.

“hello?”

it had been almost three weeks since you had last seen javier. at first you felt bad, mostly about yourself, you knew the way you were letting him treat you was shit, but then you started missing him. how pathetic of you, you repeated to yourself any time your mind would linger on him for too long. he could sweet talk you into murder.

“¿cariño?” a husky voice asked. 

you checked the time on your watch, but you knew who it could be. it was twelve minutes before midnight, right on the spot. 

“yes?” you sighed into the phone, holding it tighter, scared you would break it. 

“why’re you still up?” javier asked, and you could hear him inhale from his cigarette. that you knew, that he would always be seen with a cigarette between his lips. maybe that’s what you missed about him: the smell of smoke, whiskey and something woody that you couldn't get your head around.

you were pretty sure that your craving, your depency, your addiction-like to him was caused by all the cigarettes he’d smoke around you, you’d grown addicted to them too, therefore, to him. knowing the man as much as you did, he could’ve done that on purpose.

“what if you woke me up?” you asked back. was being smart a good idea? with peña, probably not.

not as if you had been waiting days for this call. 

he coldly chuckled. “i saw a light in your apartment still on about ten minutes ago.”

“you were under my apartment ten minutes ago?”

“ajá,” he said, exhaling now, “drove past it and stopped for a while.”

“for a while?” you sporadically would glance at the street outside during the dark hours: when living in medellín, it was best to keep your mouth shut and eyes closed, better not to see anything that could cause you troubles. 

“more or less forty minutes.”

“what’d you do for forty minutes under my apartment?” you walked to the big windows in your living room, which overlooked the street. moving the curtain with your fingers, you checked the silent and empty street. nobody to be seen. 

“lookin’,” javier inhaled again, “at you. what i could see, your silhouette from the curtains. always told you that place didn’t give you any privacy.”

“why didn’t you come up and say hi?” you asked. 

were you… teasing him? how pathetic of you, you thought. 

the man sighed. “want me to come up and say hi?”

“well,” you sat on the couch, “you haven’t talked to me in three weeks, that would be nice.”

“three weeks, already?”

“time flies when you’re having fun.” you almost snapped. that would make him win the little stupid game he was playing. you took a deep breath, trying to calm yourself. you brought both of your knees under your chin as you leaned on the backrest. deep breaths. 

“i’ll come over now then.” he said. 

“i’m going to bed now,” you tried to stop him, playing disinterested, but you could hear the hesitation in your voice yourself, “maybe another time?”

“i’m already dressed, nena.” he said and before you could complain again, he hung up. 

it was after ten minutes, the time that took from his place to yours, that you heard a knock on the front door . 

“cariño.” javier peña greeted as you opened the door. he was leaning his shoulder on the doorframe, arms crossed. how cliché of him. 

“javier.” you crossed your arms over your chest, imitating him. 

he stared down at you for a brief second before you realized, the worn out dark grey shirt you were wearing was his. it was too big on you, reached almost halfway through your thighs, just below your ass so the curve was still visible, and he wondered if you were wearing anything underneath. he hoped for those cute light pink panties, the ones with a hole on the side from him pulling the lace down too harshly once, the last time you two saw each other. 

“you left it here, after a week of no reclaiming it becomes mine.” you said, trying to defend yourself as he stepped into your apartment, and you closed the door, locking it. 

“i don’t care, quédatelo.” he breathed, sinking into your couch, not even bothering to remove his shoes or his jeans jacket. 

you stared at him as he took his gun out of the back of his jeans and placed it on your coffee table along with his badge. 

“what, aren’t you gonna ask me if i want anything to drink?” javier smirked. 

you rolled your eyes before making your way into the kitchen. “want something to drink?”

“no,” he said from the living room, but you could hear his grin “i wouldn’t want you to feel constrained.”

you walked back to the living room, rolling your eyes once more.

“javier, listen-”

“javi,” he interrupted you, his dark brown eyes not leaving yours, “not javier. go on, nena.”

you looked at him, he was waiting for you to keep talking as he got himself comfortable, spreading his legs open like the whore he was. he knew your eyes would linger on the bulge in his jeans for one second too long. 

“javi,” you sighed, and the texan nodded. it wasn’t like you never called him javi, but now he was on your nerves, or at least you had to pretend he was, “you can’t keep doing this…”

“what?” he asked, his arms on the headrest of the couch, finally comfortable. 

“this.” you waved your hands in the air. “you’ve been ignoring me for weeks, almost a full month.”

“i’ve been busy.” he said, before adding, “with work.”

you rolled your eyes. you’ve known him for months and he always used that excuse. sure, trying to catch the most dangerous narcoterrorist drug lord in the world did take away a lot of his time, but one call?

“you know it keeps me busy, cariño.” he sighed, and you thought he was trying to convince himself more than you. 

“i don’t believe it.”

he raised both his eyebrows, tilting his head slightly lower. “no?”

“no.” you spat, crossing your arms in front of him. “i don’t believe you’ve been busy for three whole weeks, day and night.”

“i was away too,” he said, getting up from the couch and walking closer to you, “they sent me to chile for a while.”

“and they don’t have phones there?” you asked as he softly took you by your elbows and drew you closer. 

he didn’t reply. 

“bizarre, i thought you remembered my number since you’ve called me multiple times from pay phones.”

he sighed again, his face closer to yours. “i’m sorry nena, i really am.”

“for…? disappearing from my life every two months?”

he shook his head. “no… actually yes.”

his big hands grazed your hips, slowly sliding on your soft skin, underneath the hem of the shirt. 

“either yes or no, peña.”

he nodded. “yes, i’m sorry. perdóname.”

you shook your head. “not so easily.”

he tilted his head to the side, like an animal seeing something unfamiliar for the first time. 

“it’s honestly… exhausting having to put up with you, you know?”

he nodded, chuckling as you put little force into trying to push his chest away.

“exhausting…” he repeated on your lips and you nodded, your arms wrapping around his neck instinctively, “now, now.”

“extremely.” you nodded, biting back a smirk. 

“i can imagine…” his lips brushed over your jaw, his tone still teasing and unserious. he never took his actions seriously, at least not with you. he was a beast outside your apartment, one of the most dreaded dea agents there were, but with you—it was different, he’d return to his almost boyish personality. he needed someone he could be himself with, his old calm and immature self. 

“i’m so serious this once, peña.” you muttered, your eyes looking at the ceiling as he started kissing your neck, your fingers resting on the base of the back of his neck, twirling the ends of his hair.

“oh, i know you are, cariño, i know how serious you are.” javier breathed on your neck as he lazily kissed it up and down.

you sighed again. you knew how serious you were. 

“javi…” you sighed. 

“mhm?”

“why're you here?” you asked, looking anywhere but into his eyes

he stopped and took your chin in his hand. “mírame.”

in the months you had spent together–and not–you had learned to recognize and understand most of the phrases of spanish he usually muttered to himself, picking them up. pride and joy were displayed on his face anytime you’d tried to repeat something yourself, even if you got some pronunciations or verbs wrong, he'd praise you as if you had just given a speech on micromedicine or astrophysics.

that was what fucked your mind, he made you feel so special.

“why are you here, javi?” you asked again.

“can’t i see my favorite girl anymore?”

you rolled your eyes. what about the other girls? you bit your tongue from asking. 

“you don’t bother to call but now you want to see me?” your eyes looked up into his, looking for some answer behind them. 

he shrugged. “i know you think i’m an asshole.”

“oh, i know you are, believe me, i know.”

he rolled his eyes. 

“cmon i wanna make it up to you cariño.” javier’s voice was as confident as always, he knew he had you in the palm of his hand, you’d do anything, you’d listen. 

“mh, how?”

“i’ve got a few ideas in mind…” he grinned. 

you shook you head. “nah-uh.”

“nah-uh?” he asked, tilting his head to the side once again as his brows furrowed. 

“no.” you remarked, “i’m not one of your prostitutes, javi. you can’t just… fuck me and leave me like a doll, y’know?”

“you sure do look like one-”

one of his whores or a doll? you’d ask that later. 

“save it.” you bit back a grin. 

“can’t compliment you anymore?” he raised an eyebrow, a smirk crawling upon his face.

you shook your head, placing your hands on his broad chest. “i’m not something you can use and toss, you know? it hurts me. you hurt me.”

his cold heart, that usually barely cared about himself, let alone other people, seemed to miss a beat. 

javier knew he hurt you, how he was hurting you and how’d he hurt you. he knew he was a selfish person, so selfish he didn’t even care about himself. was it fear of commitment? his incapability to love? he could fool you and everyone else but he could not fool himself. he just didn’t care enough. 

“i’m sorry nena.”

“are you?” you placed your hands on your hips, “are you, really?”

“you know i am.”

bullshit. deep down you both knew it was bullshit. 

“mhm…” you hummed. “i just feel-”

“im sorry.” javi repeated, “you know it hurts me too to stay away from you.”

“does it, now?”

he sighed. “it… does.”

“doesn’t look like it.” you comment. 

“well, im sorry i don’t cry if you don’t call me every other hour.”

“hypocrite.” you spit. 

javier peña was a man of patience, he liked to think of himself as one, but really his temper and anger often took over him. with you, it was different, you rarely poked a reaction out of him. you knew javi as a calm and charming man, not the irascible, short tempered boy he was still inside. 

“what?”

“you heard me.” you look up at him as you finally distance your bodies. “a goddamn hypocrite, that’s what you are, javier. you can’t treat me like this!”

“i’m not treating you-” he attempted to defend himself before one of your neighbours yelled something through the walls. 

cállense todos! 

it was after midnight, and you couldn’t blame them. 

“you treat me like one of the whores you can call up anytime you feel like fucking.”

“i don’t do that.”

“last time i saw you, and the one before that and the one before that too.”

“don’t talk like i'm holding you prisoner.” javier remarked, trying to keep his voice down this time. “you can ignore my calls if you feel that way.”

“oh, you’d love that, wouldn’t you?” you took a step closer to him, an accusatory finger pointing at him, “so i’m out of your hair for good.”

“yeah, do that, one problem less.” he rolled his eyes.

he pinched the bridge of his nose as his other hand went to rest on his as your eyes started watering. 

“you know- you know i care about you.”

you shook your head, walking to your bedroom. 

he sighed, following you. “nena, you know i care about you. deeply.”

“why’d you never say that before then?” your red eyes studied his.

“i did.” javier replied, “i’ve told you. i’ve told you i love you, for christ’s sake.”

“grunting you love me when you’re balls deep inside of me doesn’t count as a love confession, javier.” you pointed out as you sat on your bed, sinking in the comfort of his scent mixed to your perfume that lingered everywhere in the apartment. 

“i’ve…” the mexican seemed at loss of words, his usually know-it-all demeanour falling down, “doesn’t that count as love?”

you didn’t laugh at his attempt to lighten the mood. “no.”

“i’ve showed you i love you-”

“we talked about it, everytime i try to talk to you about this, us, you brush me off.”

“no need to label-”

“bullshit!” you cried out, more tears pouring down your cheeks like a mountain stream, warmer and saltier. “fuckin’ bullshit, javi… you break my heart every fucking time you walk out of that goddamn door, and i’m left in the puddle of confused emotions you leave me in. sometimes i feel like i'm drowning in it, and i feel so damn pathetic every time you call me up, saying you missed me and all that shit, so pathetic because every time i let you back in my life.”

“done crying?” if looks could kill, he’d be long dead, but luckily for him your eyes alone can’t cause a satellite to crash him. 

“when you stop being an asshole, yeah.” you sniffle. 

“again,” he murmurs, caressing your cheek, “i’m sorry cariño. really sorry.”

he knew you wouldn’t believe him, sorrys weren’t what you wanted. you knew it better than him.

you also knew that arguing was pointless, you had just said it yourself, no matter what you’d let him slip away and right back into your life.

you sighed as he rested his arms at your sides and kneeled in front of you. “i do love you.”

“god,” you sniffled, dramatically rolling your eyes, “didn’t mean to cry.”

he wiped your tears away with his thumbs as his hands cupped your cheeks. 

“shit.” you hissed, wiping the mascara off your cheeks, hoping the stains wouldn’t make you look like a raccoon. 

but javi didn't seem to care, ever the gentleman. 

“lay down with me, nena, mh?” his voice, now soft, asked, and you reluctantly let your shoulders fall onto the mattress. 

“you should’ve listened to me,” you croaked as he lay down on his side next to you, “shouldn’t have come here.”

“i should listen to you more, eh?” javier tried to cheer up. 

“why are you like this?” thousands of doubts flooded your mind. were you not lovable, not pretty or funny enough? was it because your laugh was always a little too loud and your crying face not as cinematographic as other girls? maybe it was the way you never seemed to quite catch the right note of your favourite song or that you’d lose all your femininity when you watched fútbol games with him? perhaps your scranky spanish? no, it wasn’t you. javier perfectly knew it wasn’t you.

“i often ask myself that question, nena.”

“mhm, me too.” you rolled your eyes as he caressed your cheek.

“let’s just sleep it off, ¿vale?” javi whispered, brushing a lock of hair out of your eyes.

you sighed, opening your mouth and immediately deciding it’d be better not to ask.

“what is it?”

defeated, you regained some hope. “will you be better in the morning?”

a childish, foolish, naïve and unnecessary question. you both knew he wouldn't.

“of course.” he answered anyway, that liar.

he kissed your head and engulfed you in his big and strong arms as you two laid down on your bed, your back pressed into his chest.how pathetic of you.

[kirsteng42]

So damn good as I know I would be this person in Javi’s life, in love with him, he breaking my heart all the time but me being terrified of letting go fully!!!! Get out of my head you ……

"why're you here?"

you never knew much about javier peña. 

his voice was always sharp anytime you tried to ask for something about him, and you felt so pathetic each time he’d snap at you after your sweet toned questions. you’d tried to tell yourself that maybe he was just shy or reserved, but you knew too well he wasn’t either of the two.

what you did know for a fact was that he would never call before 11, he’d never talk much about himself—whether it was his personal life or his family—and he didn’t care how long he’d been ignoring you; he’d still call without shame, and then he knew how to hit all your right spots.

“hello?”

it had been almost three weeks since you had last seen javier. at first you felt bad, mostly about yourself, you knew the way you were letting him treat you was shit, but then you started missing him. how pathetic of you, you repeated to yourself any time your mind would linger on him for too long. he could sweet talk you into murder.

“¿cariño?” a husky voice asked. 

you checked the time on your watch, but you knew who it could be. it was twelve minutes before midnight, right on the spot. 

“yes?” you sighed into the phone, holding it tighter, scared you would break it. 

“why’re you still up?” javier asked, and you could hear him inhale from his cigarette. that you knew, that he would always be seen with a cigarette between his lips. maybe that’s what you missed about him: the smell of smoke, whiskey and something woody that you couldn't get your head around.

you were pretty sure that your craving, your depency, your addiction-like to him was caused by all the cigarettes he’d smoke around you, you’d grown addicted to them too, therefore, to him. knowing the man as much as you did, he could’ve done that on purpose.

“what if you woke me up?” you asked back. was being smart a good idea? with peña, probably not.

not as if you had been waiting days for this call. 

he coldly chuckled. “i saw a light in your apartment still on about ten minutes ago.”

“you were under my apartment ten minutes ago?”

“ajá,” he said, exhaling now, “drove past it and stopped for a while.”

“for a while?” you sporadically would glance at the street outside during the dark hours: when living in medellín, it was best to keep your mouth shut and eyes closed, better not to see anything that could cause you troubles. 

“more or less forty minutes.”

“what’d you do for forty minutes under my apartment?” you walked to the big windows in your living room, which overlooked the street. moving the curtain with your fingers, you checked the silent and empty street. nobody to be seen. 

“lookin’,” javier inhaled again, “at you. what i could see, your silhouette from the curtains. always told you that place didn’t give you any privacy.”

“why didn’t you come up and say hi?” you asked. 

were you… teasing him? how pathetic of you, you thought. 

the man sighed. “want me to come up and say hi?”

“well,” you sat on the couch, “you haven’t talked to me in three weeks, that would be nice.”

“three weeks, already?”

“time flies when you’re having fun.” you almost snapped. that would make him win the little stupid game he was playing. you took a deep breath, trying to calm yourself. you brought both of your knees under your chin as you leaned on the backrest. deep breaths. 

“i’ll come over now then.” he said. 

“i’m going to bed now,” you tried to stop him, playing disinterested, but you could hear the hesitation in your voice yourself, “maybe another time?”

“i’m already dressed, nena.” he said and before you could complain again, he hung up. 

it was after ten minutes, the time that took from his place to yours, that you heard a knock on the front door . 

“cariño.” javier peña greeted as you opened the door. he was leaning his shoulder on the doorframe, arms crossed. how cliché of him. 

“javier.” you crossed your arms over your chest, imitating him. 

he stared down at you for a brief second before you realized, the worn out dark grey shirt you were wearing was his. it was too big on you, reached almost halfway through your thighs, just below your ass so the curve was still visible, and he wondered if you were wearing anything underneath. he hoped for those cute light pink panties, the ones with a hole on the side from him pulling the lace down too harshly once, the last time you two saw each other. 

“you left it here, after a week of no reclaiming it becomes mine.” you said, trying to defend yourself as he stepped into your apartment, and you closed the door, locking it. 

“i don’t care, quédatelo.” he breathed, sinking into your couch, not even bothering to remove his shoes or his jeans jacket. 

you stared at him as he took his gun out of the back of his jeans and placed it on your coffee table along with his badge. 

“what, aren’t you gonna ask me if i want anything to drink?” javier smirked. 

you rolled your eyes before making your way into the kitchen. “want something to drink?”

“no,” he said from the living room, but you could hear his grin “i wouldn’t want you to feel constrained.”

you walked back to the living room, rolling your eyes once more.

“javier, listen-”

“javi,” he interrupted you, his dark brown eyes not leaving yours, “not javier. go on, nena.”

you looked at him, he was waiting for you to keep talking as he got himself comfortable, spreading his legs open like the whore he was. he knew your eyes would linger on the bulge in his jeans for one second too long. 

“javi,” you sighed, and the texan nodded. it wasn’t like you never called him javi, but now he was on your nerves, or at least you had to pretend he was, “you can’t keep doing this…”

“what?” he asked, his arms on the headrest of the couch, finally comfortable. 

“this.” you waved your hands in the air. “you’ve been ignoring me for weeks, almost a full month.”

“i’ve been busy.” he said, before adding, “with work.”

you rolled your eyes. you’ve known him for months and he always used that excuse. sure, trying to catch the most dangerous narcoterrorist drug lord in the world did take away a lot of his time, but one call?

“you know it keeps me busy, cariño.” he sighed, and you thought he was trying to convince himself more than you. 

“i don’t believe it.”

he raised both his eyebrows, tilting his head slightly lower. “no?”

“no.” you spat, crossing your arms in front of him. “i don’t believe you’ve been busy for three whole weeks, day and night.”

“i was away too,” he said, getting up from the couch and walking closer to you, “they sent me to chile for a while.”

“and they don’t have phones there?” you asked as he softly took you by your elbows and drew you closer. 

he didn’t reply. 

“bizarre, i thought you remembered my number since you’ve called me multiple times from pay phones.”

he sighed again, his face closer to yours. “i’m sorry nena, i really am.”

“for…? disappearing from my life every two months?”

he shook his head. “no… actually yes.”

his big hands grazed your hips, slowly sliding on your soft skin, underneath the hem of the shirt. 

“either yes or no, peña.”

he nodded. “yes, i’m sorry. perdóname.”

you shook your head. “not so easily.”

he tilted his head to the side, like an animal seeing something unfamiliar for the first time. 

“it’s honestly… exhausting having to put up with you, you know?”

he nodded, chuckling as you put little force into trying to push his chest away.

“exhausting…” he repeated on your lips and you nodded, your arms wrapping around his neck instinctively, “now, now.”

“extremely.” you nodded, biting back a smirk. 

“i can imagine…” his lips brushed over your jaw, his tone still teasing and unserious. he never took his actions seriously, at least not with you. he was a beast outside your apartment, one of the most dreaded dea agents there were, but with you—it was different, he’d return to his almost boyish personality. he needed someone he could be himself with, his old calm and immature self. 

“i’m so serious this once, peña.” you muttered, your eyes looking at the ceiling as he started kissing your neck, your fingers resting on the base of the back of his neck, twirling the ends of his hair.

“oh, i know you are, cariño, i know how serious you are.” javier breathed on your neck as he lazily kissed it up and down.

you sighed again. you knew how serious you were. 

“javi…” you sighed. 

“mhm?”

“why're you here?” you asked, looking anywhere but into his eyes

he stopped and took your chin in his hand. “mírame.”

in the months you had spent together–and not–you had learned to recognize and understand most of the phrases of spanish he usually muttered to himself, picking them up. pride and joy were displayed on his face anytime you’d tried to repeat something yourself, even if you got some pronunciations or verbs wrong, he'd praise you as if you had just given a speech on micromedicine or astrophysics.

that was what fucked your mind, he made you feel so special.

“why are you here, javi?” you asked again.

“can’t i see my favorite girl anymore?”

you rolled your eyes. what about the other girls? you bit your tongue from asking. 

“you don’t bother to call but now you want to see me?” your eyes looked up into his, looking for some answer behind them. 

he shrugged. “i know you think i’m an asshole.”

“oh, i know you are, believe me, i know.”

he rolled his eyes. 

“cmon i wanna make it up to you cariño.” javier’s voice was as confident as always, he knew he had you in the palm of his hand, you’d do anything, you’d listen. 

“mh, how?”

“i’ve got a few ideas in mind…” he grinned. 

you shook you head. “nah-uh.”

“nah-uh?” he asked, tilting his head to the side once again as his brows furrowed. 

“no.” you remarked, “i’m not one of your prostitutes, javi. you can’t just… fuck me and leave me like a doll, y’know?”

“you sure do look like one-”

one of his whores or a doll? you’d ask that later. 

“save it.” you bit back a grin. 

“can’t compliment you anymore?” he raised an eyebrow, a smirk crawling upon his face.

you shook your head, placing your hands on his broad chest. “i’m not something you can use and toss, you know? it hurts me. you hurt me.”

his cold heart, that usually barely cared about himself, let alone other people, seemed to miss a beat. 

javier knew he hurt you, how he was hurting you and how’d he hurt you. he knew he was a selfish person, so selfish he didn’t even care about himself. was it fear of commitment? his incapability to love? he could fool you and everyone else but he could not fool himself. he just didn’t care enough. 

“i’m sorry nena.”

“are you?” you placed your hands on your hips, “are you, really?”

“you know i am.”

bullshit. deep down you both knew it was bullshit. 

“mhm…” you hummed. “i just feel-”

“im sorry.” javi repeated, “you know it hurts me too to stay away from you.”

“does it, now?”

he sighed. “it… does.”

“doesn’t look like it.” you comment. 

“well, im sorry i don’t cry if you don’t call me every other hour.”

“hypocrite.” you spit. 

javier peña was a man of patience, he liked to think of himself as one, but really his temper and anger often took over him. with you, it was different, you rarely poked a reaction out of him. you knew javi as a calm and charming man, not the irascible, short tempered boy he was still inside. 

“what?”

“you heard me.” you look up at him as you finally distance your bodies. “a goddamn hypocrite, that’s what you are, javier. you can’t treat me like this!”

“i’m not treating you-” he attempted to defend himself before one of your neighbours yelled something through the walls. 

cállense todos! 

it was after midnight, and you couldn’t blame them. 

“you treat me like one of the whores you can call up anytime you feel like fucking.”

“i don’t do that.”

“last time i saw you, and the one before that and the one before that too.”

“don’t talk like i'm holding you prisoner.” javier remarked, trying to keep his voice down this time. “you can ignore my calls if you feel that way.”

“oh, you’d love that, wouldn’t you?” you took a step closer to him, an accusatory finger pointing at him, “so i’m out of your hair for good.”

“yeah, do that, one problem less.” he rolled his eyes.

he pinched the bridge of his nose as his other hand went to rest on his as your eyes started watering. 

“you know- you know i care about you.”

you shook your head, walking to your bedroom. 

he sighed, following you. “nena, you know i care about you. deeply.”

“why’d you never say that before then?” your red eyes studied his.

“i did.” javier replied, “i’ve told you. i’ve told you i love you, for christ’s sake.”

“grunting you love me when you’re balls deep inside of me doesn’t count as a love confession, javier.” you pointed out as you sat on your bed, sinking in the comfort of his scent mixed to your perfume that lingered everywhere in the apartment. 

“i’ve…” the mexican seemed at loss of words, his usually know-it-all demeanour falling down, “doesn’t that count as love?”

you didn’t laugh at his attempt to lighten the mood. “no.”

“i’ve showed you i love you-”

“we talked about it, everytime i try to talk to you about this, us, you brush me off.”

“no need to label-”

“bullshit!” you cried out, more tears pouring down your cheeks like a mountain stream, warmer and saltier. “fuckin’ bullshit, javi… you break my heart every fucking time you walk out of that goddamn door, and i’m left in the puddle of confused emotions you leave me in. sometimes i feel like i'm drowning in it, and i feel so damn pathetic every time you call me up, saying you missed me and all that shit, so pathetic because every time i let you back in my life.”

“done crying?” if looks could kill, he’d be long dead, but luckily for him your eyes alone can’t cause a satellite to crash him. 

“when you stop being an asshole, yeah.” you sniffle. 

“again,” he murmurs, caressing your cheek, “i’m sorry cariño. really sorry.”

he knew you wouldn’t believe him, sorrys weren’t what you wanted. you knew it better than him.

you also knew that arguing was pointless, you had just said it yourself, no matter what you’d let him slip away and right back into your life.

you sighed as he rested his arms at your sides and kneeled in front of you. “i do love you.”

“god,” you sniffled, dramatically rolling your eyes, “didn’t mean to cry.”

he wiped your tears away with his thumbs as his hands cupped your cheeks. 

“shit.” you hissed, wiping the mascara off your cheeks, hoping the stains wouldn’t make you look like a raccoon. 

but javi didn't seem to care, ever the gentleman. 

“lay down with me, nena, mh?” his voice, now soft, asked, and you reluctantly let your shoulders fall onto the mattress. 

“you should’ve listened to me,” you croaked as he lay down on his side next to you, “shouldn’t have come here.”

“i should listen to you more, eh?” javier tried to cheer up. 

“why are you like this?” thousands of doubts flooded your mind. were you not lovable, not pretty or funny enough? was it because your laugh was always a little too loud and your crying face not as cinematographic as other girls? maybe it was the way you never seemed to quite catch the right note of your favourite song or that you’d lose all your femininity when you watched fútbol games with him? perhaps your scranky spanish? no, it wasn’t you. javier perfectly knew it wasn’t you.

“i often ask myself that question, nena.”

“mhm, me too.” you rolled your eyes as he caressed your cheek.

“let’s just sleep it off, ¿vale?” javi whispered, brushing a lock of hair out of your eyes.

you sighed, opening your mouth and immediately deciding it’d be better not to ask.

“what is it?”

defeated, you regained some hope. “will you be better in the morning?”

a childish, foolish, naïve and unnecessary question. you both knew he wouldn't.

“of course.” he answered anyway, that liar.

he kissed your head and engulfed you in his big and strong arms as you two laid down on your bed, your back pressed into his chest.how pathetic of you.