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☼ ☾ ✩
𝟐𝟐... 𝐢 𝐤𝐧𝐞𝐰 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐧'𝐭 𝐟𝐚𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐭
☼ ☾ ✩
After having a fight with my siblings, I always operate in a similar pattern. The cycle starts with me crying myself to sleep, drowning in feelings of guilt, sadness, and frustration. I never sleep well that night, usually plagued by nightmares of my parents and siblings all being disappointed in me.
My restless sleep leads me to abandon my bed at an early hour, and I usually sit in the living room and look through old family photo books and cry some more. When the sun starts to rise, I begin to prepare an elaborate breakfast of pancakes, eggs, bacon, home fries, and chopped fruit. Once the time reaches an appropriate hour, I send Chandler and Joey to wake up my siblings, and my brothers and sisters trudge into the kitchen looking as exhausted as I feel.
Our post-fight breakfasts start the same. We eat in silence until someone, usually the instigator of the fight, cracks and apologizes. From there, we briefly talk through what happened and make amends, and then Cam always does the honours of breaking the tension with a corny dad joke. From there, everything feels okay again and the silence that previously plagued the table is replaced with laughter.
But for the first time in my life, I sleep soundly following the fight with my siblings. I sleep so well that I don't wake the next morning when Kaya slips into my room to get the dogs, nor do I stir at the sound of my siblings getting ready for school.
When I finally wake up, the house is silent, and based on how bright my room is, I know that everyone will have already left for school. Logically, I know that I should feel guilty for breaking my family's usual post-fight customs, but the arm wrapped around my waist and the warm breath against my neck are making it difficult to be aware of anything but the butterflies in my stomach. I shiver slightly when the body pressed against my own shifts slightly, and Matt's chest rumbles with a chuckle, clearly noticing me tremble.
"Morning, Sunshine." Matt's voice is low and scratchy, and I hate the way I involuntarily tense at the sound. Fuck, he is hot.
I wiggle slightly in Matt's grasp, rolling over to face him. The distance between us does not change, but being so close to him with his face directly next to mine makes my breath catch.
Acting on impulse, I slip one of my legs between Matt's and shift my weight to close the remaining space between us. I bring my hand up to cup his face, his stubble rough under my palm. His eyes are glued to my own as I gently trace the lines and curves of his face, and his Adam's apple bobs in a gulp when I trail my finger over the soft skin of his bottom lip.
Matt clears his throat as if to draw himself back to reality, and my eyes shift from his lips to meet his gaze. "I'll be honest, I was worried you might freak after last night," he says quietly, his breath shallow with nerves.
