#caitiedits

❝ The trailer was quiet now, save for the crickets chirping outside and the muffled sound of Isaac’s grandparents' TV from the other side of the single-wide. How they always fell asleep with it on so loudly, he’d never understood. It’d taken him years to get used to the distant hum.

Caitie rolled off of Isaac with a satisfied sigh, as he scooted over so they could both fit on the twin-sized mattress.

This always seemed like such a good idea before they were doing it. While they were doing it. Afterwards… there was this sense of emptiness that befell the both of them, though they each assumed it was a feeling only they knew.

“I think we’ve got it figured out,” Cait lied as Isaac rolled over to reach the trash can. She pulled the quilt up around herself, though she wasn’t cold.

“It’s… yeah.” Isaac did his best to not let his voice betray the words as he laid on his back, staring up at the ceiling. He wanted to pull her close, wanted her hands on him, wanted to find the comfort of her body outside of lust. Wasn’t his skin soft enough to touch? Weren’t his hands strong enough to hold? Couldn’t she find a home, safe and warm in the crook of his neck?

It was his own fault. He’d been adamant on not wanting more than this casual affair,  and made no protest when she said she wanted the same. Just two friends helping each other out, relieving stress, feeling good. It wasn’t supposed to be more than that.

Hell, it’d been more than that before it even started.

“No bullshit,” he murmured in feigned agreement, worrying she could see right through him.

She hummed, a quiet sound of appreciation for the sentiment. “The best part is, even if we end up hating each other, we can still fuck. People in romantic relationships can’t do that. Too complicated. They start thinking they like each other again, and everything just gets rehashed.”

Isaac shifted to his side, propping himself up on his elbow to look at her. Her hair fell in soft waves against his pillow, covering most of the old, washed-out Thomas & Friends pillowcase he’d had since he was a kid. Her glasses were a little crooked—they always got that way after kissing. What would she do if he leaned up and kissed her right then, with no traces of anything primal? With nothing but the love he wasn’t supposed to feel?

“You think we’ll end up hating each other?” he asked instead.

She shrugged a shoulder. “A lot of people end up hating each other.”

His gaze traced over her skin, which seemed to glow in the moonlight seeping through his bedroom curtains. Black eyeliner was smudged beneath her eyes, her lipstick messy and halfway kissed off. His heart ached a hole in his chest as he swallowed down everything he wanted to say.

Will you stay the night? Can I hold you? Could you ever change your mind?

I need you. I want you. I love you.