“Just tell me what’s bothering you, I’m sure I can help you. Try me,” he says.
“No, you can’t. In fact nobody can. Just leave me alone,” I say it all in one breath, and abruptly turn my gaze away.
It is never easy for me to keep my eyes off him. He is as pretty to me as a mother’s just-born child is to her. He looks really adorable when he is worried, and especially if it is because of me.
“You want me to stay, don’t you?”
I sigh. I can never perceive the cryptic concept he uses to understand my mind’s hidden conjecture.
“No. Please, I’d talk to you later. Let’s leave,” I say.
I catch sight of him drawing near; his eyes beholding the sight of me, and mine enraptured by his approaching footsteps.
Before I could plan on protesting, he grabs my waist and hugs me, tightly.
I resist initially, but fail miserably.
“You’d always needed a hug, you’re broken. But you won’t accept it, you don’t want me or anyone else to see you this way, you’re not that strong you pretend to be,” he says, freeing me from his embrace.
He stands right in front of me, his eyes reaching out to tell me that he has read mine like no one could. I crumble and mold simultaneously, sensing the newly found completeness in his embrace, my abode.