Italics- thoughts/ flashbacks/ dreams

Bold- author talking

Underline- narrator talking, known as the main character

Normal- normal story

2105 words

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"Why did the chicken cross the road?"

He groans and grabs Pikachu from behind me and presses him against the side of his head with the other pillow on the other side.

I take Pikachu from him, "only I get to use him to hide. Now tell me why the chicken crossed the road."

He looks at me annoyed. "Why?"

"To get away from the zombie apocalypse."

"Ok."

"That's all?"

"My crippled butterfly, it's 4 am. You've been asking these questions since we went to bed."

I get up on my knees and look out the window waiting for a killer clown with a chainsaw to appear, "I'm excited."

He intertwines his hand with my broken one, "why?"

I turn around, "valentine's day is in a week."

"What about it?"

"It's a holiday."

"And?"

"It's exciting and there are big ol' packages of candy. It's expensive though. Well everything is expensive so it's worth it. Who doesn't want hyped up pink and red boxes of candy for twice the price? Single people should be able to go fat and broke too."

He sits up, lets go of my hand and pulls me against his chest before falling back down. He cages me with his arm and hooks his legs over the back of mine.

I need a bigger bed.

He runs a hand through my hair, "why would you have to wait for one day of the year 'to go fat and broke'?"

"Well it's not the only day. There's also Christmas and Halloween and Thanksgiving and every other holiday that includes food or money which is quite a lot. Thanksgiving is my favorite though. The food won't put me in a diabetic coma."

He stays quiet for too long. Just looks at me.

Damn dark room and extreme tiredness for not letting me know why.

Maybe I annoyed him. "I'm sorry."

"Why?"

"I must be talking too much."

He puts the heels of his hands against the sides of my waist and drags them with some pressure to the middle of my back.

He kisses my forehead, "you don't talk too much."

He then drags his fingertips up my spine. My shirt disappears while he drags them up to the base of my neck. He then gently drags his knuckles down my back agonizingly slow.

"But you were so quiet." I squeak.

"I was admiring your beauty, my butterfly."

"Really?"

"Yes."

I smile a stupid flustered smile.

I then gasp when the realization actually hits me, "you know the rules. There can only be equality if you follow the rules."

"Huh?"

"The rules."

"What rules?"

"If I'm shirtless you have to be shirtless. That's the only option to have peace. Or you could just give me my shirt ba-"

His shirt disappears before I finish my sentence. Ok well that worked.

Now I can poke at his bare chest. "Yay."

He smiles at me, I smile back. Smiling should be a language. They have languages with lights and sounds so why not smiles? It would make the world better.

I flatten my hand on his chest. The skin color difference is nice. It's drastic but not too drastic. Well for me anyways.

I wanna see my cuddle buddy at night.

"Now get rid of your pants."

"Do you have any plans? Want to explore?" He says with a lower hot voice.

"No. Do you know how uncomfortable leather fucking pants are? I don't even know how you wear them all the damn time, let alone in bed. Like it's weird. You know how my fat hairy legs look, lemme see yours. You're only ⅘ stars on the website I made up, get rid of the pants and you'll be a 4.5/5."

"Only half a star raise?"

"That's very generous. If you do not agree you will go down to -462/5 stars."

"What the hell kind of negotiation is that? What even happens then?"

"I'll kick you off my bed."

He stares at me for a second. I wouldn't do that, I couldn't. I'd go cry in the corner instead about the sexism on my own bed and racial discrimination. There's probably also hight discrimination.

Height discrimination is the worst. Short people suffer every year from being called short from their tall friends. And tall people suffer every year from back pain with everything being made for short people.

That's why I donate to 'KillPeopleWithDramaticHightDiference42069'

"Fine."

His pants disappear. Oh he got hair on his legs too, I'm not alone. Oh I'm in love.

That or my legs are hairier than I thought.

Embrace hairy hair.

"Need the blanket." I say before using my still sorta trapped foot to grab the blanket.

"You need to hide something?" He says in a teasing voice.

"No, I'm cold."

I do some weird back bend twist kinda thing to grab the blanket from my still trapped foot. Well my leg is trapped but they're all connected to the same thing.

I grab the corner and fight it. Half of it is off the edge of the bed but I got it anyway. I then fall back on to death by that half an inch from the stupid blanket.

I had it for 20 years though so not that stupid. Mental blanket.

He takes the blanket from my hand before pulling it over both of us and caressing my side and back under the blanket.

Awwww.

I sneak my hands under his arms and under the pillow. Hands between the pillowcase and cold bedsheet are god sent. Nothing is better.

Well having a clingy and very affectionate tall ass inhumane man that's kinda crazy might be.

Well he was only crazy those 3 first weeks. This is now the 5th week. He's crazy with affection. I'm crazy addicted.

Is this normal?

This is fun. I feel like some rebellious teenager.

The worst thing I did on purpose was go outside to the garage to look for my mom at night and my dad didn't know. Well it's not my fault he didn't hear the loud door and I was only out there for 3 minutes.

"What's the worst thing you've ever done? Once I went outside without my dad knowing to find my mom at night for 3 minutes."

"Scaring you."

"That can't be the worst thing. I'm sure-"

He puts a finger over my lips, "Sleep."

"But it's too late now to sleep," I mutterly whine.

"Why?" He looks genuinely confused.

"After some time ya just don't get tired? I don't know but that's how it is. Then the next night ya double tired."

"I have many ideas that will make you tired."

"What are they?"

"You won't like them."

"Then why bring it up? Thank you Mr. helpful."

He grins and I see those sharp teeth, "You're welcome."

I hold myself up with my arms with the blanket covering me for religious reasons or modesty or something. Ow my hand.

I get an idea.

I then look him dead in the eyes which catches him off guard, "I've missed you."

"I've been with you for over 11 hours now."

"I know but I missed you."

"Well I'm right here. What else could I possibly do?"

I'd poke his nose but I don't have the upper body strength to hold myself up with one arm even though he's holding most of me. "Explain."

He put his hands in a heart in front of me, "No."

Damn. "Ok."

He puts his hands back to cressing the sides of my back and thighs. "Why do you want to know so much?"

"I wanna help."

"With what?"

"If there's anything you need help with."

"I don't."

I lay back on him to poke his nose. "You aren't a good liar either."

"I'll bite you if you don't stop."

"You're scared."

"No, I'm not."

"That's another lie. Earlier you said you felt threatened. Threatened people are scared. You then ignored it all completely because you are scared. You're scared of-"

"Shut up."

"-of whoever 'they' are and whatever they did to you. And you actively trying to avoid it, like right now, just proves my point."

He stays quiet and stays faced away from me. I trace his jawline with my fingers.

Am I stepping too far again? But he has to know not to hide everything. I won't tell anyone, that's why I'm the therapist friend.

"It's toxic to not talk to anyone. You're scared you will suffer but you're suffering from fear already. Let me help you or at least help you help yourself. I don't know what I can do but I can help you figure out what you have to do."

He intertwined his hands with mine before flipping us over. He pins my hands above me with his and towers over me. His knees next to my hips. Holy hell he's beyond hot.

Scene #5 where I'd faint in the american highschool movie.

He looks down at me, "Why are you so insistent? Are you one of them trying to get me?"

"I don't know who 'them' are and I wanna help you dammit."

"Why?"

It's like he refuses to believe in kindness.

Makes me want to help more.

"Because I care about your stupid big ass and I like helping people so they don't have to live in pain forever. It's easier to have someone help you get out the hole than rotting away to death. And because we got this weird bond symbol thing and you insist we're married. Aren't married people supposed to help each other? Let me be a good wife."

He takes his left hand and caresses the side of my face while playing with my hair.

"You always had such pretty hair."

I poke his hand with a free finger. He looks at our hands way above my head before looking back at me.

"You are a great wife and you forever will be."

My stomach wants to do flips but there's more important matters right now. I tried to poke his chest but he intertwined his hand with mine and easily put it next to my other one against all my strength.

It ain't fair. Rude. I know I'm weaker but you don't have to rub it in.

He slowly lowers himself against me and leans his head against the side of my neck above my shoulder. I wrap my arms around his back and try to do the same thing he does to me all the time.

Alright so he definitely has a scar.

"Are you scared someone will see the scar?"

"No."

"Are you scared someone will judge you?"

"No."

Ok, one less thing to worry about.

"Oh. Then talk to me. Let me return the mental version of all those kisses you give me."

He leans back before putting his forehead against mine. His perfect eyes staring into mine.

If there was morning sunlight this would be like one of those perfect movie scenes.

"What do I say?"

"Talk about what happened to your back."

He puts himself under my chin and wraps his arms around me before rolling over so we're facing each other on our sides even though I can't see him.

He then stays quiet for a worrisome long time. Like long enough that I thought he fell asleep but he starts talking before I do.

"When an angel does something wrong they get kicked out of heaven and sent here if they don't die. Well I did that."

He's talking. I'm proud. A proud mama.

What did he do?

"They plucked off all my feathers from my wings so I couldn't leave before they burned all of them off."

Ow that sounds horrible. The thought makes me wanna cry. I throw fits when I accidentally touch a hot pan.

"Oh my poor baby. I'm so sorry." I pull him closer and run my right hand through his hair.

He always looks less stressed when I do that.

"Don't apologize for something you didn't know happened." He says against my skin.

"Oki. Do you want to talk more?"

He stays silent so I guess no. Still progress. Progress is always good.

"Thank you."

He nods.

"Did it help?"

"Maybe."

Better than no so I'll take it. Now I just gotta figure out how to help him cope or accept or whatever it is so he doesn't freak out.

It'll take time but I got my whole life to help.

After the conversation died down because I don't know what to say and he apparently doesn't want to talk, I fell asleep.