I let him have his way with me for almost an hour.

And finally, we were cuddled together; his head resting on my sternum.

I'd caught my breath fully, and was petting his hair.

I pulled lightly at the locks, examining the length.

They were shorter.

"Did you get a hair cut?"

I heard him chuckle, turning his face towards me.

"You're just noticing now?" he asked, sarcastically.

Oh yes.

Normality.

I scoffed.

"Yeah, where have you been the last two weeks?" I smirked at him, but my lighthearted tone didn't seem to distract him from my words.

He sighed and kissed my collar bone lightly.

"Yeah, about that." he muttered, still looking down at my shoulder.

I took his chin in my hand, and pulled his face up so I could see him.

"Don't worry about it." he sighed when I released him.

"How can you always do that?" he sounded astonished as he looked up at me.

I cocked a brow at him.

"Do what?" I asked, totally confused.

"Not blame me when I fuck up."

I cocked my head at his words.

"What do you mean?"

He sighed and sat up to his elbows.

"Well, every time I made a mistake, you always just brush it under the rug like nothing happened."

"When have you ever fucked up?" he scoffed.

"The day I thought ignoring you was a good idea, for starters! And when you were sent back to Smackdown with Randy. Then when I didn't try and look for you in Texas. And when you came back, I didn't immediately see you."

he paused, his face darkening.

"And when I couldn't keep you safe for one night."

His voice was low as he referred back to my trip from Mexico.

"First off." I started, grasping his attention.

"I deserved it. Second, I'd be worried too if my girlfriend was forced to work closely with her ex with out me around. Third, I didn't want to be found. The next one; I could have found you."

I sighed at the last one.

Why was he still hung up on this?

"Lastly, I hurt myself. You did all you could." he just shook his head at my words.

"That's what I mean. I can do no wrong in your eyes. Why?" I looked at him for a few seconds, brows furrowed, head cocked to the side, thinking.

Thinking of where this was coming from, and why he was so oblivious to the reason.

"Because I love you." I stated simply, unable to resist the tiny smirk that spread across my lips.

Punk stared at me for a few more seconds.

Baffled by what I'd just said.

Suddenly, his demeanor changed.

He'd gone from guarded and confused, to poised to strike.

He shifted between my legs, kissing my neck softly.

"I will never get tired of hearing that. Never." he muttered against my skin.

I giggled, reaching to place my hands on his back.

Before I could move them far, he had my wrists trapped in his hands.

His weight shifted on top of me, his hand applying more pressure then usual on my wrist.

I winced at the sharp pain that shot up my arm.

Instantly, everything stopped.

Punk's hands were off of me, his mouth stopped it's trek on my throat, and his gorgeous hazel eyes were filled with worry.

"What's wrong?" he asked as I pulled my wrist towards me.

I shifted onto my side, keeping it hidden.

"It's nothing." I whispered cradling my hand and wrist against my chest.

I was right, nothing had happened.

In that instant.

That happened earlier that morning.

I didn't really know what came over me, but as I slid that razor blade through my skin, I pushed on it.

It going harder, and deeper then usual.

Not deep enough to require stitches, again, or even that much blood loss.

But in the few hours that had passed, it hadn't started to scab over yet.

Punk's weight on my tender wound sent a small jolt though me.

His brows were still furrowed, if not deeper now at my blatant lie.

It was one of those lies that I knew he wouldn't believe, but I wish he would.

Punk was far from giving up.

He grabbed my hand, rougher then he usually would, and pulled down the sleeve of my sweatshirt.

I closed my eyes tight, unable to watch as his expression changed.

His heart was sinking. I could feel it.

I knew, the moment I opened my eyes I was going to get that same, sad, puppy dog look he gave me in the hospital.

I couldn't bare seeing him so defeated.

Not again.

So I didn't move.

My eyes stayed shut.

My body remained frozen.

His hand was still grasping my wrist.

It was so silent for the next few moments, that I thought we'd return to our verbal standstill from the past few weeks.

But I was prepared to sit there all day with my eyes closed.

The painful silence passed when his lips met my wrist.

The shock of it snapping my eyes open; looking at him.

Dammit.

I didn't want to see the pitiful look on his face.

Just another fuck up for me to add to the list, I guessed.

His thumb ran over the few new scabs, and the scarring lines underneath.

But his lips had touched the fresh slice in my flesh.

I blinked at him a few times, trying to fathom why he'd do that.

"What was that for?" I whispered, words hard for me to come by.

"Sorry." his whispered back; probably the lowest I'd ever heard him.

I furrowed my brows further.

"I know you wont believe me. But this is my fault."

I groaned.

No.

No it wasn't.

This was my psyche's fault.

He stopped me before I could convince him of that.

"I know. You've told me before. It's because you wanted to drink. But Eli, you're depressed too. I've watched you everyday the last few weeks, struggling to keep it all in. What you said to me last night made me wonder how bad you were really feeling it."

His eyes stayed from mine.

Along with being upset, he was embarrassed.

He wasn't usually much of a talker, at least about his emotions he wasn't.

"And earlier, when you said you had to go, it really dawned on me that you were leaving." he paused again; letting me go, and sitting back, cross-legged.

His hands came together in his lap; thumbs pushing against each other.

"I didn't want you to go without you knowing that I love you, no matter what."

His eyes were still adverted.

But I could see the pink sheen on his cheeks.

I sat up.

I had no idea what to think.

I actually kind of forgotten that he felt that way.

I reached my hand up, my index and middle fingers tracing the slightly jagged bridge of his nose.

I brushed over the scar from the broken nose he'd suffered years ago.

My action prompted him to look up at me tentatively.

It was rare to see him like this.

Almost nervous.

I really had no idea where I was going with this.

I just needed to do something.

The seriousness of the moment was thick enough to cut with a knife.

It was suffocating.

My fingertips slid to the tip of his nose, and squeezed lightly.

"Honk." I muttered, feeling utterly juvenile afterward.

Punk just gave me a wide eyed look.

And suddenly, he laughed.

Oh god.

It sent shivers down my neck.

I cracked a weary smile, not too sure if he was laughing at me or with me.

"Come on." Punk said once he'd gotten control over his giggles.

I furrowed my brows at him when he started to stand up from the bed.

He held his hand out to me.

"Where are we going?" I asked, taking his hand anyways.

He pulled me against his chest, closing me in his arms.

"You said you only have a few hours until you have to leave, might as well make the most of it."

I smirked back at him, pull him by the hips back to bed.

He chuckled again.

"As much as I'd love to," he paused, brushing the strewn hair out of my face.

He kept his hand on my head as he continued.

"You still owe me a date."