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His hands are shaking. Jobe is looking at him across the room, a smirk on his face, probably thinking in malefic ways to make fun of him later.
Jude doesn’t care right now. He can’t even cut the onions right; he is making a mess. The whole kitchen smells like red meat, like baked bread, his dad is playing music from his studio, while his brother plays FIFA in the living room (but sometimes he looks at Jude like he is much more entertaining).
“Okay, stop.” His mom says, taking him out of his mind. When he looks up, she looks like she wants to laugh at his face. It’s not that much endearing. “Stop, I’ll take it from here.”
“Why-”
“You’re going to cut off your fingers.” She laughs now, taking the knife off his hand. “You’re so distracted, it feels like you are not even in the room right now.” She smiles at him. “You don't have to be this nervous.” His mom says, a smile on his face, that looks endearing enough. Jude feels like a kid all over again, crying in the middle of the street, his mother asking him why he is even crying. “I mean... It's just Erling.”
“Yeah.” The mention of his name makes him want to self-implode. Shatter into pieces and then be back together by his hands. The name still gets him the same way, like a sleeper cent spy, reacting to the right words, being triggered by the touch of one hand. It's pathetic now. It was just as pathetic back then, but Jude was just a teenager. Right now he feels like the empty shell of an adult. “Just Erling.”
“You're so in love with him, dude-” Jobe says, playing his stupid game.
He makes Jude blush. Their mother is not as amused: “Leave your brother alone and be a good boy and put the table. Erling should be getting here soon.”
“Yes, mama.” He pauses his game and moves fast, following orders. He is still smirking. It's so annoying.
“Ignore him. He is trying to rile you up.” His mother says, starting to cut the vegetables herself. “It's not that big of a deal, it's Erling, he is like family. He is your boyfriend-”
“He is not... He is not my boyfriend.”
“Of course he is.” His mother looks at him like he is dumb.
“I don't really think he would call me his boyfriend.”
“Oh, Jude, don't be silly. I know things are hard right now, being so away from each other. But I'm sure you guys can work it out.”
His mom sounds so sure, like she just knows how it goes. Maybe she does, she is older, and she is been through so much. Definitely, she has an idea of what love really is. More than Jude.
But well, things when it comes to Erling just feel unknown, foreign. Not easy and stable when they were younger, dressed in yellow and black, hugging in the middle of the field, then kissing in the bus while the rest of the team was too drunk to care and too dark for them to see.
Right now, things feel too quiet. The quiet that comes from the dead. It feels like everything is over, even if none of them has the balls to call it quits. Sometimes Jude wonders if Erling will cry himself to sleep if the other calls it quit like Jude would do.
When he lets himself dream, he pictures Erling on his knees crying like a toddler asking for a second chance. When he wants to hurt himself, he sees Erling leaving and never turning back.
The doorbell sounds and Jude is straightening like a soldier. His mom laughs and his dad moves, a glass in his hand, going to the door to open it soundly.
“Erling!” His dad almost screams and Jude wonders who is the most excited one. He is saying more stuff, too high, sounding like a teenager. He has never hidden how much he likes Erling, how much he considers him great. Then he probably saw the way Jude looked at him and just adopted him as a second son, embracing him as part of the family. Jude sees how they come to the front of the kitchen, his hand around Erling's shoulders, looking goofy trying to look as tall as him. Erling looks too big and out of place, it's adorable, a bottle on his arm, dressed all suited up like a Ken. It makes Jude's heart beat too hard on his chest. “Look who is here!”
“Hello.” He says, too shy, like a teenager. It brings memories to Jude, too many nights having dinner in their house, laughing too loud at jokes, and blushing at his dad's comments.
“Oh, Erling, baby, hi.” His mom starts moving from the aisle in the kitchen, going to hug Erling. Too hard. Her hands still smell like tomatoes and onions. “We are still making the salad, but dinner must be ready soon.”
“It's okay.” He says, then extends the bottle to his mom. “I brought this for you.” His mom laughs taking the bottle in her hands, sounding like a child. It's comforting knowing she is just as touched by having him here as Jude is.
“Oh, so fancy!” She says, like she is not already used to drinking the good stuff. It makes Jude laugh.
Then, Erling looks at him, reacting to the sound.
It makes Jude straighten again. His eyes only can see Erling, who has a shy smile, and starts to get closer. Erling smiles completely when he is close to him in the middle of the kitchen. The whole place smells like meat and tomato but it also smells like Erling's cologne, too strong and icey. It makes Jude's legs tremble.
“Hey.” Erling says.
“Hi.” Jude smiles.
Then, out of nowhere, Erling gets closer and hugs him. It's too tight and uncomfortable, because he took Jude with his guard off. He is normally more reserved, but always impulsive in the right moments. Hugging and kissing Jude on the cheek in the middle of the field after a good goal. But the real thing comes in the middle of the fourth walls when no one can see them.
The hug feels like holding to the shores after almost drowning. Jude can cry if he tries hard enough, but he fights against the need too hard, his guts almost coming out for trying, for restraining himself.
“I missed you.” Erling says, too soft and too low, making Jude's heart do cartwheels.
“Missed you too.” Jude says, almost letting out a breath, like he has been holding out the air in his lungs for hours.
When they break apart, the first thing Jude sees it's his parents, both of them looking at them like they are going to combust, stars in their eyes. Jude blushes, trying to break the closeness, trying to play cool.
That's what he has done recently, playing cool. At Real Madrid, he can do it often. Play cool, be cool. Not let his emotions get the worst out of him, only the best and nothing but the best. And still, Erling plays this game better than he can. He moves smoothly, like a dancer, getting away from Jude like the touch of his hands is not hot still in his body. Jude breaths in and out, trying to relax, playing it cool.
Jobe comes from the dining room and sees all of them standing. He smirks again, in that know-it-all way that probably all young brothers know to put. He says, in that same demeanor, “Are we going to have dinner or what?”
His dad loves to talk, his mom loves to hear him. Jude thinks that’s the clear definition of love.
She laughs at every single one of his jokes and he tries to make her laugh. It’s so simple, and that’s love. Thinking about how something affects the other, even in the most mundane things, even in the darkest thoughts: one person is always on your mind, and your first desire is to honor them.
It’s weird. Jude doesn’t really let himself think he knows a thing or two about love. He is only 20 years old, and spends most of his life in the middle of the field, watching green grass and planning perfect moments. But maybe he gets it, sitting alongside Erling on the table, hearing his family laugh, and feeling Erling’s body heat come into him to waves... Maybe he does.
It’s ridiculous. He doesn’t need to feel this nervous. He still does. He feels his heart expanding inside his heart each time he says anything, he laughs at something, each time he eats or drinks. He is down so bad that Jobe looking at him across the table, like he can see right through him.
Probably his disbelief mostly comes from the fact he didn’t believe he would come. But Erling followed his promise. He did answer back the messages, and the calls, and he came when Jude asked him to come. Jude still can't believe he's here, but he feels warm against Jude's body on the table. His voice sounds like vibrations that hit the wall and bounce off his eardrums. The sound that his cutlery makes against the ceramic plate, the smell of his cologne, the laughter that comes from his lips, everything feels so real but at the same time solemn, like seeing a Virgin in the middle of a lake, like a revelation.
Dinner is nice, it feels good to be at a table with people he loves. His mom asks too many questions, his dad makes jokes, and Jobe rolls his eyes every time someone jokes. Jude tries to sound serious, pleasant, and not so nervous, he manages to get out of some questions and not seem as stupid as he feels.
Likewise, everything goes to shit when he is alone with Erling.
The first time they are together all night, Jude is in the kitchen, washing dishes, his dad is smoking in the hallway, and Jobe is playing in the living room. His mother is in the bathroom. And then he hears footsteps, and he's quiet for a moment, then the same smell hits his nose and Jude feels his legs shake.
“I like your shirt.” It's the first thing Erling says. Jude looks over his shoulder at him, his eyes meeting his, heat spreading through his chest.
“Vini gave it to me.” Jude says and he's able to see Erling's body tense for the jealousy, but he recovers fast enough.
“That's nice.”
“He... He's very nice.” Jude says, stopping to look at him, keep cleaning the dishes.
“He looks like he likes you a lot.” Erling says and it sounds too funny, still primal enough for Jude to recognize the jealousy. Hilarious. Vini definitely doesn’t like him like that, the guy is into too many models and pretty white girls from Madrid that can’t hardly speak any Portuguese. But he is a great friend.
“I wouldn’t hold my breath.” Jude says, smiling, looking at Erling just over his shoulder. Erling breaths deep, and there’s some redness going over his neck, it makes Jude’s guts fire up. “How is the team doing?”
“Holding it together. They are doing it better than I thought they would.” Erling says, his voice too soft. “How are you preparing for Bayern?”
“I’m just trying to be calm. Ancelotti doesn’t think it’s going to be an easy game, but definitely easier than you guys.” Jude tries to joke, to sound casual, for a moment Erling doesn’t move, his posture too rigid, and Jude thinks he fucked up. But Erling laughs, and Jude feels like he can breathe again.
“I still don’t get how you guys pull that off.” Erling says. And Jude would like to feel like he can separate the game from the real things, but he feels protective fast enough, even when the one who’s talking it’s Erling. When it comes to Real Madrid, everything is luck and miracles and perfect timing. He is getting tired of listening to the word “luck” anytime someone wants to speak about them, like it’s that easy. Jude is getting nastier with his responses, and overprotective. Of course, the best team makes everything look easier. (He told this to his dad and he laughed, proudly, “You are already a Blanco, son”).
“God is a Madridista, haven’t you heard?” Jude laughs, instead of being mean.
When he makes Erling laugh, everything is worth it.
They end up where they always end up: In Jude’s bed.
His mom prepares the guest room, but she gives him one look that makes him feel like a naughty kid trapped in the middle of a prank. His mom is not dumb, and Jude definitely tries to be reserved, not tell her too much or make her uncomfortable. But she just sees it, she knows. It’s a mom’s thing. She definitely looks like she knows Erling is going to sneak up in his room.
Sometimes, Jude wonders when she realized the first time. Maybe it was the very first time, when they were too young and didn’t know anything that was ever going to happen. The third time when they fell asleep in the same bed hugging. Around the sixth time when Jude kissed him or the seven when Erling kissed back. The tenth, when they touched for the first time. Who knows. Too many nights hiding in a little room in Germany that didn’t feel like home, but felt warm when Erling kissed his neck.
So, Erling is his room, like many times, like many nights.
He is sitting on the floor, his tie is unbuttoned, and his jacket in the bed. He looks like a picture, like a painting, but also human enough. If Jude looks at him hard enough, he can see the marks the brushes left when he was painted. He has a pimple in his jaw, and a mosquito bite that’s too red on his neck. Jude smiles when Erling realizes he has been staring at him.
“Come on, sit here.”
It’s magnetism, chemistry. Jude doesn’t believe in good luck, or the destiny. But maybe some superior force made him meet Erling and fall in love with him that severely.
Jude sits, his body closing the distance to Erling. Their legs are touching. Erling looks at him. His eyes are shining and he smells like sweat and cologne. Jude smiles back.
“Did you have fun?”
“I’m glad I came.”
“I’m glad you came too.” Jude says, his voice too eager for a second. Erling softens next to him, like jelly under the sun. It makes Jude feel anxious, like he said something bad. “I mean; everyone is happy you came. My dad? He is so annoying; have you taken a look at him-”
Erling comes closer and kisses him, and it feels like the other ten thousand times he has done this and still fresh and new. Jude feels his body giving up on him, searching for more contact. They haven’t been in a room alone for so long. Jude hasn’t really had any kind of contact with anyone, nothing that feels intimate. All the things he associates with love and intimacy and closeness have Erling’s name tattooed over.
Erling’s hand ends on his neck, his body taking over Jude’s. He feels big and strong over Jude, like usual, even if Jude is not as skinny and weakling as he was in Germany. He is certainly stronger, faster, and agile. He feels better each time he is in the field, the air hitting his face. But inside these walls, he feels just as tiny and weak when Erling’s hands move to his waist. An electric current going from his toes to his head, exploring his entire body.
“We can’t have sex on the floor.” Erling says. The word sex makes something inside Jude’s brain convulse. They do this each time, Jude knows it’s kind of a ritual, but he doesn’t like to look at it that way. They’re here because they are in love and they’re meant to be. Jude would like to scream that to Erling’s face, make him understand that.
But he is so afraid of hearing a no that just sighs, and then moves to get into the bed.
Erling already closed the door with a lock, but checks again, while Jude makes himself some space over the bed. The mattress feels soft under his body, like he is going to bury himself inside of it. His eyes meet Erling’s when he turns around, he smiles again for him and him only, looking like the cat who got the cream. It makes all the insides of Jude fire up.
Jude sees him Erling starts to take his clothes off and he reacts, starting to do the same. The room feels too cold, but when Erling’s body finally is back over him, he feels hot and invasive. Jude looks right into his eyes, and he only sees green with yellow in Erling’s eyes.
“You smell nice.” Erling says, taking Jude off guard.
“I smell like you.”
“Yes, you do.”
There are kisses on his neck, hands on his body, a body between his legs. Jude feels like he is in heaven and sometimes wonders if he is going to end up in hell anyway. It doesn’t feel like he is doing something bad, but he knows people would look at him like he is crazy behind closed doors. Write articles about it, put his morals and beliefs in doubt, criticize him for things not related to his game. He is still young, and the world is changing, nobody will say anything to his face. Treating him like an also-ran will be enough.
But in this bed, in these hands, Erling appears larger than life, greater than heaven. He thinks maybe all the bad things that come after loving are worth it, if it means being in a bed with him.
Erling’s hands, Erling’s body, Erling’s heart. It all feels too hard and cuts too deep. Clothes off, hearts beating.
They speak between kisses, too harshly and too fast, like they are speaking a language they only know about. Someone from the outside might listen to it like it’s mumblings and gibberishes, like twins creating their own language.
Erling asks him where’s the lube. It’s in the drawer, Jude says. Erling moves in a way that he doesn’t have to separate his body from Jude’s. Jude can hear the sound the substance makes when Erling plays with it with his fingers. He always takes too much and makes a mess between Jude’s asscheeks that he stopped caring about years ago.
When he is with Erling, he barely thinks. And when Erling is fucking him, he doesn’t even think at all. He lets out a sigh when Erling’s fingers are inside his body. It feels too tight, too congested. The last time they did it was somewhere in some hotel where nobody asked questions and nobody wondered why. Jude is pretty sure that Erling thought it would be the last time, but Jude is stubborn, an old dog with a bone.
“I’m ready.” Jude says, sighing.
“You’re not.” Erling says, his mouth on his neck. He bites softly, making Jude whimper too hard. “Don’t be too loud.” He orders. It makes Jude want to moan harder.
His fingers get too deep; they feel too big in Jude’s insides. He is moving under Erling like a caterpillar, like he is under a spell, his body feeling too sensitive and responsive. Erling loves it, Jude knows it for the way he bites his neck, the way he kisses it.
“Erling-”
Erling kisses his cheek. “I don’t want to hurt you; we haven’t done this in a while.”
“It’s okay.” Jude says. His legs are on Erling’s side, too open and too high to make the contact easier. He knows his lower back will hurt too bad tomorrow, he doesn’t mind. “You can do it.”
Jude knows what he is implying, Erling looks like he knows too, but none of them call it out. Erling’s fingers go out so softly, barely feeling, letting Jude feel empty in the process. Erling moves over him in the bed, placing himself. He looks so big, so masculine, like a divine apparition from a Viking reclaiming the land. Jude wants him in this bed for as long as he can have him. Sometimes he wonders all the things he will do to achieve that.
Jude sighs. This is always the hardest part.
But Erling makes everything feel easier. He places himself and he starts to get in slowly, making Jude’s skin crawl, his body tense, his cheeks turn red. The pressure feels the same, not as painful or uncomfortable as the first time. But it feels just like Jude remembers. His eyes close, and his head hits the pillow while he moans hard, making Erling whimper above him, enjoying the show. Jude feels extremely vulnerable, but when he opens his eyes and sees Erling’s green eyes, he sees his soul just as bare, and it feels so intimidating for a moment to know what goes into Erling’s head, something he constantly fights to do but never achieves.
He sees love. Erling is looking at him with love. It ends up making Jude break, his legs hugging Erling’s waist harder, moving on the bed to have a better angle, making Erling whimper surprised, to then start moving against Jude’s body.
It’s nice, maybe too hard, harder than they are used to, but Jude is not able to look away from it. Erling looks at him directly until he can’t keep it up anymore, getting closer to kiss Jude’s mouth, hard. Teeth and tongue and lips. Jude feels so in love for a moment he thinks his heart is going to explode.
It doesn’t take that much for Jude to come, it’s been too long and Erling knows his body too well, like the back of his hand. They are still kissing and Jude sobs against his lips, Erling covering Jude’s mouth with his. Jude can feel his hand between their bodies, his big hand wrapping around his cock, moving too fast, but with enough pre-cum and the mess of lube Erling left behind. He twists his wrist too hard and Jude whimpers, too sensitive, his body tensing, his entrance clenching around Erling’s cock like a bracelet, making him moan hard, too hard against Jude’s face, to then hide his face on his neck, breathing hard, while he comes deep inside Jude, hot and fast.
Jude feels too sensitive, the heavy body over him making him feel protected - like nothing bad can happen if Erling is close enough. His whole body feels relaxed. It doesn’t hurt as much when Erling gets out of him, moving to the side, his body falling into the bed. Jude moves, his whole body shaking. He can feel cum dripping from his asscheeks, and his face lights up from the feeling, but when Erling looks at him, any kind of embarrassment goes out of the window.
“Hello.” Erling says, his voice sounding too funny, his hand moving to touch Jude’s face.
“Hi.” Jude says, touching Erling’s hand over his face. Erling still has his eyes like that, open and bare. In that way, Jude can see his soul. It makes butterflies move around his stomach. Maybe not everything has to be that hard, maybe they have a chance.
“Let me look for some paper towels to clean you up.”
“Don’t get away.”
“Just going to your bathroom.” Erling looks at him, a dumb, big smile on his face that makes the inside of Jude feel tender like cotton candy. Jude moves his body against him, trying to cuddle. “Jude-”
“Just… Another second.” Jude closes his eyes, his face in Erling’s chest, feeling how it goes up and down. The beat of his heart against his ears. It brings a sense of comfort he can’t put into words, not really, but he doesn’t think he must do.
Then, Erling’s body tenses up. It’s not even automatic. He was relaxed one second ago, but now feels like a whole wall of concrete. Jude opens his eyes and he can’t see as well as he would like to, the room is too dark, but he doesn’t need the light to know Erling’s eyes, open and unguarded, had closed its curtains. It’s like he is trapped himself again. And Jude wants to cry, because this is not possible. They were fine, five minutes ago.
But now Jude sees directly at his eyes and sees nothing at all, nothing that feels worth risking his life for. He even wonders if it was there, to begin with, or maybe it was his mind fabricating fantasies, all to avoid the oppressive feeling of the truth he has been ignoring for so long.
But when he looks at Erling, in the middle of the dark, he realizes that no, he didn’t make this up. It was there. Erling looks like he knows. And he is the one lying to himself. It’s an even more destructive realization.
“I…” Erling begins to say, moving in the bed, trying to get away. Jude doesn’t fight against it. “I’m sorry.”
“I don’t understand you, Erling.” Jude says, more to himself than to him, really. But Erling still looks hurt. “I don’t get it-”
“I’m sorry.” Erling says, repeating the same words. It rings in Jude’s ears too hard, like an alarm going off in the middle of the morning, waking you up from a dream. “I thought…”
“You thought you could come here and fuck me and what, Erling? This is getting ridiculous. We have been doing this for years now, we have been here since before, and you are not able to cuddle me, to kiss me in front of others, to call me your boyfriend-”
“We are not together-” Erling starts to say, probably trying to defend himself, but just digging his own grave. He panics when Jude stands up, naked, moving around the room like a madman. “I didn’t mean it like that-”
“My mom thinks you are my boyfriend.” Jude says and his voice cracks, even if he doesn’t want to. He feels too vulnerable, his skin bare and his heart broken. The sound of his voice makes Erling sit in the bed, looking for an invitation to come closer, to maybe try to comfort him. “My dad treats you like you are his other son. My brother fucking loves you, he’s always making fun of me because of you. I am always thinking about you; I am always reaching back to you. I call you and you never fucking answer and I-” His voice completely breaks then, tears in his eyes, his whole body shaking.
“Jude.” Erling stands up and tries to get closer to him, Jude turns around, moving to the bathroom.
“Just… Just give me a second.”
The door sounds too hard when he closes it behind him.
When he goes out of the bathroom, he is not angry anymore. It’s a weird feeling. He feels like all his body has been punched. He cleaned himself, and cried for what felt like hours, before going out. Erling is sitting on the floor, and he appears to want to move but doesn't. He keeps looking at Jude from below like he is a divine apparition. How the tables turn.
“Jude.” He starts saying, and Jude feels so tired for an entire second that he wants to cry again. But resist it the best he can.
"It's okay." Jude says, even when it's not. Erling looks at him like he sounds insane. And maybe he is insane. That's the only explanation for this whole situation they're both in. "I... I'm fine." He is not, but he moves to the bed, without touching Erling, avoiding like the plague. "Let's just go to bed."
"Jude... I'm sorry."
"You are right." Jude says, making Erling look confused when he stands. "We are not together." Jude says, and there's a sting of pain going through Erling's eyes that makes him feel prideful until he feels like trash. "I'm sorry I overreacted. This is so stupid-"
"Jude, I-"
"It's okay." Jude says. His voice sounds too quiet. There's a whole knot in his throat that he can't swallow. "It doesn't matter."
It does matter. He wants to fucking scream. You are in love with me. I am in love with you. You love me, I love you. Why can't you- Why can't we- Why can't us-
Erling looks at him deeply for a second and then, as usual, gives in. So big, looking like a big giant that can conquer the world. But Jude makes him so soft, makes him a coward. Jude and all the things he causes on him.
It's strange. Jude's love for Erling makes him want to do crazy shit, jump high buildings, scream at the top of his lungs. But Erling's love for Jude causes him the complete opposite; it makes him a coward, it makes him weak, it makes him dumb.
Even right now, Jude can feel it. If Erling says the right thing, Jude could be able to forgive and forget, give him a second chance, say it doesn't matter anymore. But Erling hides automatically, like a kitten under the rain. There's an easy way and he goes and takes it.
"I'll sleep in the guest room."
It breaks Jude's heart. But he plays it cool. Play it cool, play it cool, play it cool.
"Fine."
He wants to run to where he is, hug him from the back, fight back, have a huge fight, and then have sex again. But Jude sees him go through the door and he, for the first time since this whole thing started, feels like they have reached their inevitable end.
It doesn't feel as devastating as he thought it would. But it's not easier either. It's just... There. That funny feeling. Jude lays on his bed and he doesn't shed a tear, but when the smell of the sheets hits too hard for a moment, he wonders about universes where maybe things can be different. He doesn't come up with any.
His mom makes tostadas with jamon in the morning and they eat them. She cracks jokes and his dad laughs too loud and his brother rolls his eyes. Erling is sitting across him in the table. Jude barely eats. Everyone in the room can feel the tension, but nobody says anything. Nobody calls the big elephant in the room. His family is just as good playing it cool as him.
His mom drives them to the airport. Erling needs to go home, and what yesterday felt like it would be a sad ending just feels worse, like venom going through his veins, killing from the inside. With each move they make, Jude feels worse, but he can’t really put it into words.
It feels like the world is ending and this is the end. But it’s not. That’s the worst part. He needs to go on; it doesn’t matter if Erling is holding his hand through it.
The air feels too cold. It’s just his mom, him, and Erling. His mom feels like a ghost; like a presence he can’t ignore. Jude looks at Erling inside the airport, their eyes meet.
“I guess I’ll see you around.” Erling says, and it feels awful. Jude wants to break down crying, to beat him, to beg to tell him he loves him back.
“I guess you will.” Jude says. For an ephemeral second, he sees his eyes open, he can see the entirety of him for just one second. And he sees sadness. It’s shattering. They can’t be together, that’s a tragedy. And still, it’s just how things are.
His mom says her goodbyes and she is so sweet, she makes it seem like it’s all good. Like it’s all perfect.
But then, they are in the car. It’s not really automatic. She does it later on the way home, when they are halfway there. There’s some music in the background from the radio. Jude’s head is against the window, just looking at the way trees and mountains and buildings move.
Then, he feels a hand on the back of his neck. In his scalp. He looks at his mom, and she is not looking back at him, but her hands caress the back of his neck, touching softly, moving his hair with her fingers. It’s too soft. And she doesn’t really say anything, but she doesn’t need to. He knows what she is trying to say.
He moves his hand and places it behind his neck, touching his mother’s hand back. The car keeps moving, and he starts to cry. Tears falling down his face, and it’s not even poetic, he’s bursting into tears. Sad, ugly crying face, deep sobs.
“It’s alright, baby, I know.” She says, too soft, hard to hear. “It’s alright."
That’s the worst part. Knowing he’s going to feel better later, that’s never going to be this bad. But heartbreak lasts too long, and love doesn’t even last a thing. That’s the worst part. All this pain for a love that never was.
But the hand on the back of his neck feels like the pat he needs to calm down for a second. It gives him hope. But for the moment, he continues to cry.