Hurt Me. Scream At Me

Jackson doubled over, his eyes almost popping out of their sockets, his face turning red in a blink. He wrapped his arms around his stomach, shooting me a hard, shocked look. 

“Why the bloody fuck would you do that?!” he yelled, his voice cracking on a cough. 

I got on my feet, staring down at him, my chest heaving. 

“Why the bloody fuck did I do it? Because, you idiot, here I am confessing my feelings for you, and you’re still saying I’m not real?!” 

I clenched my fist, fighting the urge to hit him again. 

“So I fucking hope that punch confirms that I’m not a fragment of your damn imagination. I hope you choke and drown in alcohol, asshole!” I turned, heading towards the door. “I hope the hangover threatens to kill you, and maybe it will–”

His arms came around my waist, and he pressed me to his chest, his head placed on my shoulder. 

“My Siri,” he whispered, his voice trembling, and a rock got stuck in my throat, my hand hovering over the doorknob. “My love.” 

“Am I real to you now, Jackson?” I asked, trying not to let my voice shake, but it did whatever it wanted and shook anyway. 

“As real as real could be.”

“Good,” I choked out. “Because I just told you I love you, you bastard. Again. So I hope you caught that because I will not be saying it again.” 

His arms tightened so hard around me I could barely breathe, his shoulders shaking as he inhaled deeply, rubbing his nose on my shoulder.

 “My Siri,” he whispered, his voice more choked now, thicker and a mess. “I’m lost without you. I had no one to go to when I saw him again. I had no shoulder to cry on, and no arms to hold me while I fell apart.”

“W-what?” I tried to turn to face him, but he wouldn't let me go. “Saw who, Jackson?”

“Why would you do that to me, Siri?” I felt something wet on my shoulder where his head was, and I went still, my eyes wide and staring at the door. “Why would you let me endure that alone? I needed you. I needed your kisses, my love.” His chest was heaving heavily now, his breath a harsh pant. “I needed you.” 

“I’m sorry,” I said in a voice so low I could barely hear myself. “I’m sorry.” 

“Please, don’t ever do that to me again. Hurt me. Scream at me, but don’t ever make me think I lost you. Don’t make me go through that again.” 

“I won’t,” I choked out as I nodded. “I promise, I won't.” 

He kissed my shoulder softly, his arms losing just a bit around me. He walked us backward, rubbing his nose on my neck, peppering kisses over my bare skin.

“I’m sorry too,” he said, his voice a bit clearer now as he slowly went down on the bed with me still in his arms. “I’m sorry I couldn't love you hard enough to ease your worries. I’m sorry I made you feel you had to compare me to that bastard.”

We were lying on our sides, his front pressed completely to my back, his hand freeing my waist and moving up to my hair where he slowly loosened my braid, his fingers digging into my scalp in a massage. Warmth filled my chest, my eyes stinging with fresh tears. Even now, he was still trying to care for me. 

“That’s not something to apologize for, Jackson,” I whispered, and I felt him shake his head, his breath warm on the back of my neck.

“It is, my love. I should have never held back. I should have made sure you felt the intensity of my love until you never had to question it. Until it was engraved into your bones, and you never have to doubt my love.”

I scoffed softly even as it felt like my insides had been set on fire. “You sound like a Victorian poet who hasn't discovered Wi-fi.” 

“Love does that to someone.”

We fell silent, his fingers now tangled in my loose hair, a deep, contented sigh vibrating in his chest. 

“Will we go back to being Jackson and Siri tomorrow?” he asked softly, his voice deep with sleep. 

I pushed myself deeper into him. “Like we never stopped being them.” 

~.~

But that was easier said than done. 

I turned on the bed, my hand reaching out blindly for him, searching for his warmth. My eyes snapped open when I met nothing but a cold, empty space. I sat up, my heart slamming against my chest. Where was he? I have never woken up without him on the bed before. Did he leave? Was he done? Did he think–

The door opened, and my head snapped up to it. Relief flooded through me when I saw him step in, holding a cup of coffee.

“Uhm… hey,” he said softly, not quite meeting my eyes as he shut the door and stepped deeper into the room. But he didn't come to the bed like I thought he would. Instead, he sat on the sofa a distance away. “You’re awake.”

“Yeah,” I muttered, rubbing the back of my neck, embarrassed about my panic. 

“So… uhm…” He cleared his throat, and I looked at him, but his eyes were fixed on the mug, his cheeks slightly pink. “I… eh… I’m not good with alcohol, Siri.”

I frowned. “What?” 

He sighed, finally raising his head and meeting my eyes from across the room. 

“I don't drink, and when I do, I don't go overboard like I did last night.”

I stared at him, still confused and trying to figure out what he was trying to say. I was also getting pissed that he was sitting so far away. 

“I still don't–” 

I paused as it dawned on me, my eyes going wide. 

“You… you don't remember last night?!” I yelled, my voice loud enough to wake the entire neighborhood. I sat up and knelt on the bed, glaring straight at him.