A bit of a shorter chapter this time.
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This was the weekend from hell, but nothing was a disaster yet.
In fact, things were going well despite how nervous I was. Carlisle and I made dinner together, while my parents were bringing dessert - sadly not brownies - and the cold weather had managed to smother his allergies again. Every time I started to fidget, he'd patiently remind me that they were my parents, and that they weren't about to disown me for something that wasn't my fault. It didn't stop me from worrying, but it certainly helped.
Everything went smoothly, from dad purposefully hugging my boyfriend as soon as we let them in, to our lasagna being cooked perfectly. Fox managed to win my parents over instantly with her mewing and purring, and quickly curled up beside them on the couch when we all sat in the longue. Mum had brought photos from Carmen's last ultrasound, proudly showing us the black and white alien imagery that was apparently her unborn grandchild. I really wasn't sure what the hell I was looking at, but Carlisle managed to humour her. It was a bit of an unwelcome topic for me; it sent a pang of longing through my body, which I barely managed to smother.
And then my heart stopped. My ears started to ring and my vision tunneled, everything I'd just eaten rising in my throat. I was vaguely aware of myself asking if they minded staying a few minutes longer to talk about something, and of the confused looks on their faces, but then my throat tightened and nothing else would come out. So dizzy that I wanted to pass out, I barely recognised that Carlisle's arms were around me and I was burying my face in shoulder, and that he was trying to reassure me that it was okay in between explaining to my parents what was happening to me.
"Everyone here loves you, Gar, it's fine," he murmured to me. "Don't make yourself sick over this; everything's alright." His hand snuck under the back of my shirt, and I tried to focus on the coolness of his fingers against my bare skin and the gentle kisses he was pressing against my neck.
Slowly, the panic gave way to exhaustion, and I found myself leaning against him a little more, tightly wrapping my arms around his waist. "...I have to go to bed…" It was the only thing that I could think of that would make sense right then. I didn't want to be with my parents anymore; I suddenly loathed being around anyone but Carlisle.
"Let me get you some water first, before you try and stand up?" he suggested. He kissed my cheek once I nodded, gone from my side all too soon. A hollow feeling formed in his absence, my chest aching from a mixture of backlogged emotion and hyperventilation.
As the room started to come back into focus, I risked a glance at the clock, and then at my parents. Fifteen minutes had passed. And they looked absolutely horrified. I wasn't sure if it was my reaction, what they'd just been told, the intimacy between me and Carlisle, or a mixture of all three, but mum looked like she was about to cry, and dad was stone-faced and silent.
"Here, Garrett." A cold glass touched my fingers. I carefully took a sip of the water as my boyfriend sat beside me again, and it did help to ease the tightness in my throat a little. He carefully brushed my hair back off my face to stop it sticking to me, his fingertips lingering a little against my cheek. "Do you still want to lie down?" When I didn't respond, he turned to my parents again. "He's actually doing a lot better; it doesn't usually get this bad anymore, he was just nervous about telling you," he explained quietly.
Mum was on her feet suddenly, rushing to hug me so tightly that it was a little painful. "Oh, love, you should have told us sooner." She was bordering on tears, and I really couldn't deal with her crying right now - it was going to make me cry.
"I'm okay- I'm okay, mum, I-I just need to lie down, and…" I just needed everyone to leave me alone. I reached for Carlisle's hand, needing some kind of stability. He squeezed my fingers as my mother rambled on and on about how 'I should have said something' for all those years, but I wasn't listening anymore. I just leaned my head against his shoulder and nodded in agreement to her.
It seemed like an eternity before dad finally convinced her to stop fussing, and she left me alone long enough to excuse myself and escape to our bedroom. I knew shouldn't have abandoned Carlisle with them, but I needed to get away or I was going to lose my shit again. Instead, I just sat on the edge of the bed, listening to him reassure them that I would be okay. Dad was thanking him for dealing with me so well, politely trying to usher mum out. The front door opening and closing was the best sound I'd ever heard, and I lay back with a groan.
Carlisle immediately came back to me, slowly sitting on the mattress beside me and squeezing my hand. "Are you okay, Garrett?"
"I can't believe I reacted like that," I groaned, burying my face in his shoulder as he lay down too. "So much for a peaceful dinner." My face was still burning and I badly wanted to stop it. It felt like all the blood in my body must have been there, my cheeks were so hot. I wondered if the heat would burn through his hoodie.
"At least it's done now," he soothed, rubbing the back of my neck. "Your parents understood." His fingers trailed down, smoothing the collar of my shirt and brushing against my shoulder blades. "Should we get ready for bed?"
"It's only early, Carlisle, it's barely even 8 o'clock," I reminded him. I didn't know why I was arguing; I didn't want to get out of bed again. There's no way I would be able to sleep for a while yet; my heart was pounding erratically in my ears, and I felt like I'd vomit if my boyfriend got more than a few feet away from me. Instead of fighting him, I started tugging off my clothing, my hands still trembling enough for the buttons on my shirt to get stuck and pull. The cotton strained and came loose, threatening to send the button flying, but my anxious hands didn't care, suddenly claustrophobic in the clothing.
Carlisle's cold fingers replaced mine, easily weaving them back through the holes. "Careful," he murmured, catching hold of my hands and lacing our fingers together. It prevented me from undressing any further, but eased the sick feeling in my stomach. I leaned forward to kiss him, pulling him forward until he fell into me.
"You're coming to bed too, right?" I had wanted to tease him, but my nerves betrayed me and leaked through in my voice.
"Yes, Garrett." All too soon, he pulled back, quickly getting changed and disappearing to feed the cat. I rushed to do the same, impatiently waiting under the bed covers for him to come back - there was no way I was ready to let him go yet. I lay back in bed, listening to the traffic on the street below us, and the weather raging away. I still couldn't fully settle until his arms were safely around me again, and only then could I relax, letting the noises take over my racing thoughts.
I'd always loved the sound of rain outside, ever since I was a child. It's monotonous drumming was enough to put me to sleep no matter how worked up I was. The pelting on the roof brought back fond memories of childhood blanket forts, gentle hugs and being tucked into bed by my parents. The sound was soft now, seeming as we had another apartment on top of us and were several floors up, but it was still faintly audible from where we were lying. And I still loved it. It sounded of everything safe and comforting while we were surrounded by warmth.
Carlisle was gone from my side suddenly, and I felt the loss as he tiptoed to the window, pushing it open a crack and letting cold air spew into the room. The weather was louder now, the sound of icy rain drops bouncing off the pavement outside overpowering our slow breathing. My gaze traced him as he moved to the hallway cupboard, hurriedly returning with another blanket and throwing it over the bed to compensate for the temperature change in the room. He crawled between the sheets beside me to get away from the gust of freezing air. "Thank you," I whispered to him, almost unwilling to disturb the sound. I pressed a gentle kiss against his temple, running my hand up his back to squeeze his shoulder, my fingers brushing the back of his neck and lightly tangling in his hair.
He didn't say anything in response, offering a half-smile in the darkness and leaning forward to bring his lips to mine, careful as always. His hands were on my waist, his body tight against mine and his fingers knotted in my shirt. The rain made him anxious, reminding him of cold nights alone with no jacket, and the next door neighbour's old dog who would sit with him on the back steps of his father's home every night that he was kicked out. He'd told me that story over and over again, about the geriatric saint bernard who would jump the back fence between the two houses and lie with him on the back porch. Ever since we'd come back from camping, he'd started telling me a little more about his childhood. I wasn't sure if whether he trusted me more, or if he was just homesick. Still, I'd be forever thankful that the dog had stopped him freezing to death.
"What are you thinking about?" I knew he was stuck on London, from his silence and rigidity, and as selfish as it was, I wanted him talking. He wouldn't want to tell me, but I needed him to say something, reliant on him keeping me calm after this evening. "Please?" I pleaded.
"The weather," he said quietly. He shifted slightly, sinking further under the blankets and resting his cheek on my chest. That wasn't the truth. Not the whole truth, anyway. That wasn't what was eating away at him. I didn't push him, just hugged him and squeezed him closer to me. We couldn't both come apart tonight; neither of us had the energy.
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I was quite uncomfortable the next time I woke up. The duvet had shifted and left my foot exposed, and the temperature was unpleasant. In fact, my whole body was too cold. It only took one glance at my boyfriend to find out why. He'd cocooned himself in as many blankets as he could gather, tightly curled up. Cold, despite the stolen covers. There was no way I could be irritable with him, and a chuckle vibrated in my chest as I pulled him closer. I was met with resistance as I tried to tug him free of them - fighting me even though he was asleep.
He shivered as when my hands finally got under the covers. The abrupt disruption of warmth was enough to wake him up, and he sat up, confused. "You okay?" he asked as I continued to grin at him.
"No, I'm going to freeze to death if you carry on like that," I teased. I used his clothes to tug him closer, laughing as he fell against my side. The blankets unfolded on their own as he settled, and his head came to rest on my shoulder as he tucked them around us.
"Sorry, Gar," he mumbled sleepily. It didn't take him long to pass out again, and the warmth of his body against mine was enough to relax me again. I loved that boy so much.
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It was the smell of fresh coffee that pulled me out of bed the next morning. I followed the enticing scent to the kitchen, unable to help a smile as I snuck up behind Carlisle. I wrapped my arms around his waist, kissing the back of his neck. "Good morning, you."
His body shook with quiet laugher. "It's hardly morning, Garrett. Lunch time would be more accurate, actually." Maneuvering around to face me, his fingers brushed my jaw, holding my face in his hands as he leaned up on his toes to bring our lips together.
"You should have woken me up then," I teased. I was secretly glad that he hadn't; I'd wanted to sleep more than anything after all that had happened over the last two days.
"I'm not that cruel," he teased back. Then next time he spoke, his voice was a lot softer, and he pulled me a little closer. "You looked like you really needed it, Gar, I'm glad you were able to rest that long."
"I'm sure spending the morning with you would have had the same effect," I said, rubbing the small of his back. "Have you eaten? Do you want me to make something?"
"I have, but don't cook; yours is in the oven." He awkwardly stretched over my arms to grab a mug off of the bench, handing it to me with a shy smile.
I took it from him, stealing another kiss while he was still close to me. "Have I told you recently that I love you?"
That earned me an eyeroll and a gentle elbow in the ribs as he shifted away to get my food - apparently assuming me incapable of looking after myself. "Are you feeling okay this morning?" he asked quietly, hesitating before bringing it up again. He seemed to realise that I was uncomfortable being the center of his attention while we had this conversation and turned away to start washing the dishes.
The stab of vulnerability the question brought on wasn't welcome, though I appreciated the gesture. That would explain why he was babying me too; he was scared I was going to have another meltdown. "Lots better. I'm sorry about last night."
A sigh escaped as he glanced at me over his shoulder. "I don't want you to be sorry, Gar, I just want you to take it easy; a weekend doesn't count as a break if you were stressed the whole time."
My stomach twinged a little, and I found myself wanting to reach for him again. "I really am okay, Carlisle, I know I overreacted last night, but…" I trailed off, shoving a forkful of breakfast into my mouth to shut myself up.
"You didn't 'overreact', you had a panic attack and that's not your fault," he murmured, still focused on the sink.
I fidgeted, watching the floor as I continued to eat. Fox was pushing her nose at my ankles, demanding my attention and starting to whine. "Has she been fed?" I asked him, attempting to change the subject. Standing in the kitchen was quickly becoming awkward, and I forced myself to go and sit at the table and finish my breakfast instead of hovering uselessly. It was too warm in there anyway; the heat from the over had quickly filled up the small space, and I wasn't sure how Carlisle was still managing to keep his jacket on.
He dried his hands on a teatowel and leaned down to scoop her up. "Yeah, she has a selective memory." The tiny creature remained in his arms as he sat at the table with me, and I found it hard to repress a smile at the sight of the two of them. He waited until I'd shoved my bowl away before speaking again. "What do you want to do today?"
It didn't take much convincing on my behalf to coax him into sitting in my lap, and I wrapped my arms around him, holding him tightly against my chest. I leaned my head against his shoulder, savoring the feeling of his fingers in my hair. He was warm and smelt wonderful, and it was immediately comforting. "Nothing, if I can help it."