{Tiara}
His head is bowed when I open the door.
"What do you want, Quincy?"
I put my hands on my hips.
"Hi, lovie. Can I come in?"
He says softly.
My heart is hammering in my chest as I take in his rugged features.
It looks like he hasn't slept in days.
Sounds about right.
"It depends. You done accusing me of stuff yet?"
I can't help but be a little snippy even though I feel bad.
He looks like he's about to pass out right in the doorway.
"Oui."
I roll my eyes.
"You don't speak French."
"At this point, I don't know what I speak. I can barely think straight."
He groans.
I hesitate.
"I don't know what you were thinking but I only want you, Quincy. It kind of hurt my feelings that you would even think otherwise. I thought I was doing a good job at being a good girlfriend."
I say quietly, playing with my fingers.
"Baby, you are a good girlfriend. I'm really sorry I hurt your feelings. I guess I...just wasn't thinking rationally. I panicked."
He whispers, emotion flashing in his eyes.
I sigh.
"Bring your ass in here."
A small smile tugs at his lips.
"Yes ma'am."
I settle back down at the table with my laptop as he falls face first dramatically on the couch.
Puck climbs up and gets settled on his back.
"I feel like a zombie."
He groans into one of the couch pillows.
"Uh huh. Get some sleep. You look like one."
I mutter.
"It was hard for me to sleep knowing that I disappointed you."
He informs me.
I look up.
"Must have been a hard 3 days then."
"Come here."
He growls
"Nah, I'm good. Very busy."
I wave him off.
He frowns.
"Too busy for your cuddle bear?"
He whispers.
I narrow my eyes.
"You only call yourself that whenever you do something wrong."
I huff.
"I miss you. I want to kiss and forget our argument even happened, can we do that?"
He breathes.
My toes curl.
"Maybe later. Go to sleep."
I say sternly.
He puts his face in my pillow and groans loudly.
"Fine."
He mutters.
WhenI look up a few minutes later, he's knocked out, his legs extending over the arm of the couch.
He's so big, he makes everything in my little apartment look so small.
He doesn't move an inch as I slowly throw a blanket over him.
"Come on Pucky, let's see if I have any snacks for you."
I coo, rubbing his little head.
He hangs from my wrist as I walk back to the isle.
He's so small and cute.
I hum to myself as I dig around in the cabinets, locating a bag of cashews.
His eyes get all big as I hold them up.
What a little cute.
Quincy cracks an eye open around 9.
"Hey, big guy. How was your nap?"
I ask absentmindedly, looking through my bills.
"Good."
He rasps.
It sends a shiver up my spine.
I love the raspiness of his voice when he first wakes up.
"How long was I asleep?"
He yawns, stretching like a cat.
I check my watch.
"About 3 hours."
He grumbles to himself as he shuffles out of the room.
I rub my tired eyes, reluctantly stacking my mail.
I love getting coupons in the mail.
As it turns out, I am just like my mother when it comes to that.
I never would have never seen this coming.
I pause at the doorway when I see Quincy gingerly taking his shirt off.
There is a big bruise on his chest.
"Oh no, what happened?"
I groan, walking forward.
He frowns.
"I think I walked into something sharp yesterday-"
"Quincy, I told you to tell Jenny to get rid of that coat rack. It's very dangerous."
I scold.
His cheeks turn a little red.
"It slipped my mind. I guess I was too busy thinking about you."
He says sheepishly.
My mouth feels like it's full of sand as I grab the first aid kit.
"My poor baby."
I coo as I take a closer look at the wound.
There's dry blood everywhere.
"Come on, let's get you cleaned up."
There is a tender look in his eyes as I slowly press the bandage against his chest.
"You're so precious, you know that?"
He whispers.
My breath catches as he presses my hand against his cheek.
His stubble tickles my palm.
"I can't believe you...you're all mine. I feel so foolish."
He sighs.
"What am I going to do with you?"
I smile a little, patting his chest.
"You could always fall in love with me."
He shrugs.
I hesitate.
"I already did that."
He raises an eyebrow.
"Head over heels?"
He prompts.
I think about it.
"Getting there. I'd say I'm right at the verge."
I correct myself.
He grins.
"That is very satisfying to hear. Oh, lovie."
He groans, crushing me to his chest.
I giggle a little, running my finger through his hair.
"Imagine where we'll be in another 7 months."
He says thoughtfully.
I bite my lip, thinking about it.
"You'll probably be sick and tired of me by then."
I mutter, squeezing him at just the thought.
He groans.
"Nonsense, lovie. I don't know why you have a fear of me growing tired of you. We've known each other for months and I have yet to even slightly feel dread when being around you."
He soothes.
I sigh contently.
"If anything, I feel like my best self when I'm around you."
He adds, smiling his cute little half smile.
"Oh baby."
I gush, peppering his face with kisses.
He seems to enjoy that.
When I pull away, his face is red.
"You're so good to me, lovie."
He rasps, his eyes fluttering closed as I press one last kiss against his forehead.
"Likewise, tough guy."
"I'm really sorry, baby. I trust you 100 percent and I'll never doubt you again, I promise."
He mutters, biting his lips.
I let out a content sigh.
"Good. I'll hold you to that promise."
.
.
.
{Quîncy}
For me, months usually drag on lîke years. But one day when Î ask Tîara what day ît îs and she says November 12th, Î realîze that ever sînce we've been together the months have been speedîng along lîke days.
Ît feels lîke just yesterday when Î let Ollîe dress me up and we walked around the neîghborhood for Halloween
Tîara and Î have spent lots of tîme together goîng on lîttle walks together at the park and grocery shoppîng.
Sometîmes she even drags me along on her occasîonal shoppîng sprees.
Those are my favorîte, she gets very happy when ît comes to spendîng money.
And when she's happy, Î'm happy.
Rîght now neîther of us are happy.
"So. What are your plans for Thanksgîvîng?"
The only reason why Î hate holîdays îs because they are mostly famîly holîdays and Î always have to explaîn why mîne never comes around.
"Oh, Î'm not really that bîg on holîdays."
Î lîed.
Lîke an îdîot.
She knows me însîde and out.
Plus Î'm a horrîble lîar.
Î love lîttle tradîtîons and whatnot but Î just don't lîke the hassle.
"Wow. You're really goîng to lîe to me about somethîng so sîmple as a holîday?"
She seldomly gets angry enough that her voîce starts to shake.
Î learned somethîng new about her today.
She absolutely hates gettîng lîed to.
Î'd assume that everyone does now that Î thînk about ît.
Anyway, she stormed out before Î even got to respond.
And now Î'm just sîttîng here rackîng my braîn, thînkîng of what Î can say.
Î don't talk about my famîly much because Î always felt lîke a burden.
And ît turns out Î kînd of was, Î realîzed ît when my parents hurrîed to move towns as soon as Î was of age to lîve on my own.
And my sîblîngs were quîck to run off to college far away even though there are plenty of colleges closer.
Ît broke my heart but Î couldn't really blame them.
Even though Î couldn't help my dîsabîlîty, Î chose to be upset about ît all throughout most of my lîfe.
And Î don't lîke talkîng about ît because îf there's one thîng Î hate worse than talkîng about how my famîly abandoned me ît's gaînîng pîty.
Î hate pîty.
"Baby gîrl?"
Î hesîtate to knock on the door.
Ît opens îmmedîately.
"Look, Î understand that you don't lîke talkîng about your famîly but you don't have to lîe about anythîng. Okay?"
She says calmly.
Î just stand there awkwardly, not knowîng what to say.
"Yeah, whatever."
Î sîgh.
"Whatever?"
She questîons.
Î shrug helplessly.
"Well, yeah. Î don't know what else to say."
Î clear my throat.
Sîlence.
"How about Î'm sorry for lyîng to you?"
Î hesîtate.
"Well that too."
"Well. Okay. Ît's whatever then."
She huffs.
"Î don't want to argue wîth you-"
"Fîne."
She mutters.
Î take a deep breath.
"Look, Î don't lîke my famîly very much. They would hate you and Î get upset just thînkîng about ît."
Î say quîetly.
She doesn't say anythîng for a moment.
"...Îs ît because of-"
"Ît has nothîng to do wîth your race. They would hate you because you don't really...acknowledge my um. Dîsabîlîty. Ît was a really bîg deal to them, they've always hated ît when people treated me normally."
Î say fîrmly.
Once agaîn, sîlence.
Then,
"Well that's the stupîdest thîng Î've ever heard."
Î rub my neck.
"Can we just forget ît, please? Ît always makes me very upset."
Î stress.
"Okay, alrîght. Just...take a deep breath, yes? You're all red agaîn."
She says reluctantly.
Î rub my eyes.
"Î should just go home."
Î sîgh, turnîng away.
"Oh...well, okay."
She whîspers.
"Okay, Î'll talk to you later."
Î bîte my lîp, anxîous to escape her întense eyes.
Sometîmes ît's just too much for me.
Jesus.
Just when Î'm about to take a nap, Î realîze somethîng.
Our 3 month annîversary was 2 weeks ago.