inspired by Boyfriends by Harry Styles
The music is deafening. Which is fine, since it’s drowning out his words. Bass pulsating like a heartbeat up through my legs and into my brain. My eyes drift from his face to the dancing going on in what was our living room five hours ago.
“Wanna dance?” I shout at him, probably cutting him off mid sentence.
“Sure.” I watch his mouth and decide that’s what he said.
My left hand grabs his right, and then I pull him towards the thick of the party. I only stop walking until we’re surrounded by people and then I turn back to him, placing my hands on his biceps. His hands find my hips and then we both start moving our bodies, in an unspoken way, to the beat of whatever song is playing.
He is smiling at me, like he always does, and pulls me a little closer. Our hips are pressed together now, my chest brushing his.
I wish I could say I was still into him. I really do. We’ve been dating for five months and he’s never done anything that hasn’t made me swoon. He smells good, he doesn’t drink, and he’s graduating in May with a full time job. There’s absolutely nothing wrong with him.
I’m planning on ending it tonight. I’ll take him up to my room and be tearful and completely apologetic.
He’s leaning down to kiss me now, eyes dilated and one of his hands cupping my chin. I let him, since it is his last night as my boyfriend.
Someone bumps into him roughly, hitting our heads together and making me stumble. I see stars for a moment. I grip onto his shirt so I don’t tip over. “Ow,” I mumble. My head is throbbing, then I feel a trickle of blood seeping out of my nose.
He turns from looking at the guy who caused this, to look at me, “Aw, no. C’mon, let’s go get you cleaned up.” He pulls me out of the crowd, a little blood getting on his shirt as he presses me to his chest at one point. Up the stairs, he pulls me into my bedroom, where mine and June’s jack-and-jill bathroom is.
“My head’s pounding,” I say with my eyes shut. I’m sitting on the edge of the tub now, the thought of hoisting myself on the counter sickening.
“I know, baby.” I hear him fishing for something in a drawer. “There’s some.”
I feel a tissue wipe at my upper lip, where the blood has dripped down. I peek my eyes open to see his smooth face concentrated on my hurting one. “Is it still bleeding?” I ask from under the tissue.
“Yeah, just a bit. But we’ll stuff a tissue up there and it should be good. Want a wet rag, just to make sure I got it all off your lip?” His left hand is resting on the side of my face, so it won’t move too much while he cleans me up.
I try to nod, but then wince. “Ow,” I whine.
“Don’t move,” he says with a little laugh in his tone. “Hold on.” He runs some water over a clean rag from our linen closet. “Want me to do it?” he asks me in the mirror.
“Please,” I say. “I’m afraid I might throw up.”
“Just do it in the tub, not the floor.” He moves to me and tilts my head up slowly. He gently wipes under my nose, my lip, and the rest of my face for good measure.
My eyes trail to his t-shirt. “I got blood on your shirt,” I say pitifully.
He pauses, glancing down for a moment. “It’s just blood, don’t worry about it.” He finishes cleaning me up and then tosses the washcloth into our towel hamper. “Your head still hurting?”
I shut my eyes for a moment, the throbbing now a dull ache. “Yes, but not as bad as before. Maybe it’s not a concussion.”
“If you had a concussion, you wouldn’t even be able to sit up straight. Believe me, I’ve had a couple.”
I frown for a moment, eyes sharpening. “Women have higher pain tolerance,” I remark.
“Oh really?” he says quietly, a smile toying on his lips. One of his hands brushes my hair behind my ear.
I let a beat pass before I reply, putting any joking aside. “Thanks for taking care of me.”
He shrugs, fingers running through the ends of my hair now. “It’s my job now. To care.”
It’s a short sentence. It didn’t take him much to say that. But the admission makes me falter. I’m supposed to be breaking up with him. That was my blueprint for the night. And now I think he might say he loves me.
His brown eyes are very soft, soft like they were the first time we kissed. “Baby,” the word falls from his lips. “I gotta tell you something.”
My breath hitches, stomach churning uncomfortably. He’s standing over me and I want to hurl. I can’t answer him, I can’t open my mouth at all.
He lowers himself to his knees in front of me. “I think I’ve known this for a little while, but I was scared outta my mind to tell you.” He hesitates for a moment, his eyes scanning my face. “But, uh, I am in love with you. I hope you know that.”
“Oh,” I breathe. “You are?” My churning has turned to butterflies and heart hammers. My body is betraying me.
“Of course I do. You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me,” he says, like I should have known for so long. I didn’t. I didn’t until now.
I swallow. Breakup with him. Breakup with him. Breakup with him.
He smiles, dimples popping. He rests his hands on my thighs and leans his torso closer to mine.
What have I done? I think as he kisses me and I kiss back.
What have I done? I think as he carries me to my bed.
Boyfriends, I always think they’re so easy.
Thx for reading!! I write little blurbs/short stories like this randomly and thought, might as well post them on here. Maybe they’ll be more to come! Xoxo <3
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