Should I ask him now? I wondered to myself, staring at my boyfriend as he tried to explain to me how he played his cello. We were in his room, and I was sitting on his bed. His mood had improved over the week, and today he was as bright as a peach, so I wondered if I would just be a pushover if I brought up what happened that day in my room.

"Maxwell," I called out to him, making up my mind. I found myself taking a deep breath when he looked up from his instrument to stare at me. Biting my bottom lip, I adjusted my sitting position on his bed.

"That day you came into my room," I started, and I watched as his expression dulled, but I refused to back down. Maxwell needed to learn how to stop suppressing things, and generally how he felt. Right now, I knew he was trying to seem happy just for me. "When I asked about your mum you just shut down and refused to say anything. Do you want to talk about that now?" I asked, and Maxwell's gaze just moved to the carpet.

His lip seemed to tremble, and I almost decided to back off. Almost.

"Maxwell," I started, getting up from his bed before walking over to him. He was sitting on a chair, and I just stopped right in front of him before letting out a sigh. "Please talk to me. It's dangerous to keep things like that to yourself." And at my words, Maxwell started to silently cry. He let go of his Cello, and I made to kneel beside him before pulling him into a partial hug. I let him cry. I let him get the grief out of his system.

When he had calmed down I pulled away from him. His eyelashes had teardrops on them now, and he was sniffling as he tried to control his breathing.

"Everything was going fine then I told her about you." My blood ran cold at that. I could guess what happened.

"I don't know, she was being so nice. I told her about you — my boyfriend — and she just turned sore. I..." Maxwell started sobbing again and I reached out to hug him again.

"Maxwell..." I wasn't sure what to say so I kept quiet after that. Things were going well, and he talked about me. His parents were both giving him a cold shoulder because of me.

"Why--" I said, pausing then sighing. I wasn't sure what to say. Why did you tell your mum?

"Don't leave," he croaked into my shoulder, and I just knelt there holding him.

"I would never do that," I assured him, pulling away from him before watching him wipe his eyes. "You have me. You'll always have me."

"Promise?" he asked, and I blinked before thinking about it. I bit my bottom lip, and after a while of hesitating, I nodded, and Maxwell seemed to sigh in relief.

"I hope I'm not being too clingy, I just..." he trailed off, not saying anything afterward. "I just, you know... I love you," he said, getting up from his seat, and I got up from the stool soon after, following him to his bed. We sat beside each other, not saying much as time passed by.

"Xander," Maxwell called out, speaking up first, I turned to him, looking at his face that had now lost its fake excitement and gone dull. "You mean a lot to me," he said, looking up from the carpet to stare at me. His brown eyes, piercing my green ones. The intensity of it made me look down at the floor.

"I didn't want you to worry about it. It's not your fault—"

"But she did that because you were talking about me," I cut in, looking up to find Maxwell staring down at his hands before biting his bottom lip.

"It doesn't matter," he said, leaning into me before taking my cheeks into his hands. "You said that keeping things in was worse than pretending to be happy, remember?" he asked, and I nodded.

"It hurts, but it's better to know what they think I guess," he mumbled running the base of his thumbs across my cheeks. He didn't say anything after that and we just stared at each other before he leaned in to give me a kiss. It was deep yet soft, and I felt like he was trying to comfort himself. Comfort me.

"As long as you don't hate me," he muttered as he pulled away, letting go of my face. "Now that would kill me."

I let out a little gasp, and Maxwell looked a bit frightened.

"Was I being too much?" he asked, and I shook my head, reaching out to take a hold of his face.

"It's fine, it's just, you're—"

"Intense?" he finished for me, and I nodded before pulling him into a soft kiss.

"My parents love me, and so does my extended family, they'll love you too," I said, trying to find a way to make him happy. I knew my family wouldn't be an exact replacement or anything, but I wanted him to know he was accepted somewhere — that he was accepted by me.

"Maxwell," I called out, and he hummed, looking at me with expectant eyes.

"I," I started, not knowing how to continue my sentence. I knew what I felt, but how to put it into words was hard. "Maxwell," I started again, and his eyes looked worried now. "It's not bad news, I promise," I said, and he let out a nervous laugh.

"I love you."

The room went drop-dead silent with my confession, and Maxwell stared at me with wide eyes. My eyes looked away from him as a feeling I could only describe as being overwhelmed took over me. I knew I loved Maxwell, and I'm sure Maxwell knew I loved him well before my confession, but I knew he would have appreciated me saying it verbally.

"Xanny?" His voice made me look over at him again, and he had a big grin on his face now.

"I'm so happy," he muttered, and I felt my face warm up as I looked away from him, staring at the green bedsheet that covered his bed. I soon felt his hands snake around my waist, pulling me towards him, and I was soon awkwardly sitting on his lap. He nuzzled my neck, his wavy hair brushing my naked skin as he hummed. My face warmed up with the feeling of that area of his body pressed against me.

Lord, God. It's like Maxwell didn't know how to be embarrassed about situations like this. A little gasp left my lips when I felt him pull at my shirt. It was a light tug like he was asking for permission. I was fluttered, and my toes were curling up as his hand wandered.

"Are you nervous?"

"No," I answered, but my tone was a bit too firm and defensive, giving me away. Maxwell laughed, leaning to me as he kissed along my neck area. It felt good, really good, and he was no longer the only one with a problem between his legs.

"I should tie you to me, so you can never leave," he laughed, and I chuckled, rolling my eyes t him.

"I love you so much. I don't want to chase you away or hurt you because I do something stupid. I always end up doing something stupid," he said into my ear as his hands stopped wandering about and settled on taking a hold of my hands before taking them away for a few seconds. Maybe I hadn't been aware of when he had opened his drawer, or maybe he just had a satin piece of cloth lying around since he now had one in his hands and was making an attempt to tie my hands together.

"If you do something stupid I'll forgive you," I said, watching as he made the knot, his long pale fingers moving with the fabric. A little smile made its way to my lips as I watched him plait the end into a nice twist as kids did with a thread they laced between their toes. It looked great and fundamentally innocent and ironic to what he was about to do.

What I was about to let him do.

"I already promised I wasn't going anywhere," I added, as he turned me around so that we were facing each other. He was biting his bottom lip as he looked at me, before reaching out to move his hands under my shirt.

"I know, it's just — I'm paranoid. I'm sorry. I guess I'm just getting used to someone not caring. I hummed in understanding. I got that, it was hard to outgrow some habits, but none the less I would keep trying to voice my assurance to him. He needed that.

He reached out to me, taking my face in his hands before prying my mouth open with his and kissing me deeply, and could feel his tongue in my mouth, and the feeling was feverish. We kissed, and I tried to manage with my hands being stuck in one position. Maxwell did that gagging thing again, but I had gotten a lot more used to it. Maybe I even like it now, or maybe I liked the awe in his eyes when he watched me. Who knows? Maybe both.

He soon gently pushed me until I was lying flat on my back and he was hovering over me. He gave me a mischievous smile, and I bit my lip and said a silent prayer as he went about doing his business with my lower regions.

We were still doing the same things, as usual, but there was something a lot softer, calmer, and less panicked than usual. Maxwell wasn't afraid anymore. He might not know it, but there had been a certain level of fear involved in his part when tying me up — like he needed physical assurance that I wouldn't go anywhere. His fear seems to be gone to an extent.

I'm glad.