Yeah. This is what happens when I read books and they make me cry. I'm hit with a load of sappy inspiration.
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Rain Like This For Days
a one shot
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"Mass, hey, you in there?"
You panic at the sound, fumbling to try and hurriedly fix the train wreck you've become in the last few hours. But it's too late, he's bursting into the room already, his expression comfortable and carefree.
Hiding your face, and angling your body away, you wipe your eyes angrily. How could a book have put you in such a mess? You instantly chastise yourself for the thought. You know why you got so worked up. It's the same reason every time you read something, pretty much the only reason actually. Love has always had a great bit of hold on you. Some people get upset when a character gets sick or is punished or some other such big spectacle. You simply get hysterical when two people start falling for each other.
You mutter a series of curses (ones that would guarantee you a suspension in class) at how easily you started shedding the tears. Damn hormones.
"Massie, what's wrong?"
Knowing he won't quit bugging you until you answer and face him, you slide around and glance quickly in his direction before turning your eyes for the ceiling. "Nothing," you say evasively. Now you're annoyed with yourself for answering too quickly. Not to mention the way your voice kind of wavered in the middle.
You're suddenly slightly unbalanced, and see that he's moved to your side. His concern for you does nothing for your earlier sadness, and you are caught between distress that you're worrying him, and bliss that he might make you feel better. Grateful is the first word that comes to mind at his entrance, but you can't decide if you're being selfish or not with his appearance.
He watches you thoughtfully, his gaze caring. Too caring, you realize. You don't deserve such a wonderful person. God knows he could do so much better then you and your random and completely unnecessary bursts of emotion.
Knowing this, you nudge him with your foot, urging him to go away so you can control your rolling thoughts without the embarrassment of him seeing you in such a state. When he doesn't move, you avoid his eyes and reach forward to push him off the couch--and hopefully out the door--for a few minutes. Instead he grabs your wrist and gently pulls you to him.
You meet his eyes without thinking, wanting to protest. You then promptly burst into tears.
He gives you a mild smile, not looking unkind. "Come here," is all he says. He encircles you in his strong, warm embrace and you hide your face in his chest. You have the brief thought that you're probably ruining his shirt, but then continue crying anyways because you realize that you are crying. "It'll be alright," he soothes.
After a few moments, you move your face from his chest to rest in the crook of his neck, sighing. He kisses you on the head and smoothes back your hair, still holding you tightly.
And you're startled to find that you're content for the moment. Instead of being unnerved at what he's seen, you feel completely, blissfully glad that he was there. Because right now you're in his arms, and somehow he's already eased your sadness.
Just like in the books.