Adam's POV
For some time he is quiet, not saying anything, I scold myself for loosing control and going too far.
"Why are you so quiet?" I ask dreading.
"I have nothing to say," he says softly. He seems to have changed a lot within these past few weeks.
"You've been following me around with nothing to say?" I ask, raising a brow.
He still doesn't say anything. Okay, this is literally not like him. Isn't he happy that we're back together and talking?
I see tears playing on his eye balls and I sit up immediately.
"Julian? Hey, what's wrong? Did I do something tha—" I begin, extremely worried. But he cuts me off.
"I need to get back to work," he says, He sits up and wipes the tears off his cheeks.
He picks up his T-shirt from the floor.
"Shouldn't you at least tell me what's going on in your mind?" I ask, hoping he says something.
"What's going on in my mind? Actually, a lot. You've been treating me like some kind of crazy person—putting guards at your door with orders to throw me out of the company like I'm a madman!
I've been trying to talk to you, to explain myself, even when I know I did nothing wrong other than not telling you that I arrived home safely. But what did you do? You made me look like a lunatic who should be thrown out of the company!
And as if nothing happened, you make me come here just for you to feed your sexual desires.
You don't love me, I'm very sure of that. How could you, when you ignored my pleas and didn't respond to my messages?
You don't love me! So what else could be the reason for what you've just done? You're going to marry, aren't you? And because you're so gay, and I'm the only person who knows that, the only person you can be yourself with, you called me here under the pretense of a business meeting just to satisfy yourself one last time before you marry a woman!"
Now, this is so like him—talking in such a whirlwind that I can barely understand some sentences.
"Why are you accusing me of love? Have I ever said I love you?" I ask, knowing I'm playing a very dangerous game but still choosing to play it.
"Right. You never did. We never even existed. I don't know what the f*ck I'm doing here!" he says, walking toward the door, but I pull him back.
"One more question. Are you implying that by what we just did, I've taken advantage of you? Because if that's the case, I'm very ready to report myself to the police station now," I say casually, as if it's no big deal.
He doesn't say anything as he struggles out of my arms.
"Are you just going to leave like this? I mean, it must be so uncomfortable in your pants, I'm sure. Why don't you take a shower? I'll offer you my clothes. Oh, by the way, there are clothes I bought for you, even underwear, so feel free," I say, smirking.
"Do you think I'm playing around with you? You hurt me, and you're just talking like it's nothing. This just confirms to me that you actually don't love me."
"Oh, c'mon, Julian, aren't you being a bit too dramatic? You know how I feel about you. I mean, what else can explain why I've been entertaining your stubborn nature ever since we met?
I did what I did because I was mad at you. I felt disappointed—it hurt me too, alright? I didn't mean to do what I did. Look, M.L., how about we put what happened behind us and focus on what's yet to come?" I say honestly, not wanting to dwell on what I went through that first week we fought.
"What do you mean by 'what's yet to come'?" he asks, pausing. "And can you please cover yourself or put on clothes?"
"Not yet," I say, grinning. Damn, I don't know why I keep grinning for no reason. I guess I'm just extremely happy that we're here together, that I have him here with me. I don't want to think about anything else.
"What do you mean 'not yet'?!" he asks, looking confused.
I pull him to the couch. No matter how much he resists, I'm stronger than him, so I manage to make him sit beside me anyway.
"Because I still want to feel you. I'm not satisfied." He looks to the other side, smiling, thinking I can't see his face.
I don't know how things have changed between us, but I'm glad that now I have the upper hand. Usually, he was the one teasing me, and I'd panic and feel nervous even if I didn't show it. But now...
"I've not forgiven yo—" he starts, but I cut him off.
"Let's date," I say simply. Inside, I'm nervous about what he's going to say, but somehow, I feel assured of his answer.
"What?" he asks.
"I want you to own me, and I want to own you. So..." I say, smirking.
"I haven't healed from what you've been doing to me. So no. You need to make me forgive you first, or what you're suggesting is not going to happen. I can't be with someone who will treat me like that."
"I guess that's a yes. So now we're boyfriends." He doesn't say anything.
"What?"
"I can't take no for an answer, I'm sorry. But hey, I want you to know that I feel terrible knowing I made you feel so hurt. It won't happen again, I promise. What do you say?"
"Let's not fight again. I know fights are inevitable, but at least let's try to understand the situation. Even when we fight, let's try and solve it without staying away from each other. It just hur—"
I hug him, knowing exactly what he was going to say. It just hurts so much. Trust me, I know.
"I'm sorry," I whisper, still hugging him.
"I'm sorry too," he responds.