Page 134 of Losing Faith

His smile grows before he wipes the corner of my eye. “You do have eye boogers.”

“Ew.” I break into a laugh as I push his hand away when he reaches for my other eye. “You’re getting too comfortable.”

“I waskidding.” He rolls his eyes before trying to steal a kiss, but I turn my head and his lips land on my cheek.

“Morning breath.” I cover my mouth, but he pushes my hand away and kisses me anyway.

“Your breath actually smells better than yesterday which proves my claim that it’s beneficial to flossanduse mouthwash, morningandnight.”

“Oh my god.” I pull the covers over my face as he goes on with this argument again.

“I’m being serious.”

“You’re adad, you’re always serious.”

He ignores my jab. “I’m surprised your teeth are so white for someone who doesn’t floss and use mouthwash, let alone not brush their teeth at night.”

“Wait until you find out I sometimes don’t brush my teeth at all.” I pull the covers off my face to see his mortified face and another laugh spills past my lips.

“You’re joking.” He watches me carefully.

“Is poor dental hygiene a deal breaker?”

“Yes,” he answers so quickly, pulling another laugh out of me.

“Well, I’ll go ahead and collect my things.” I sit up in the bed and he still looks mortified.

“You’re being serious.” He sits up with me and I roll my eyes at how dramatic he’s being.

“Calm down, it’s only when I’m too sad to get out of bed.”

His face changes now in understanding.

“No point in brushing my teeth if I’m just going to lay in bed and stare out into the abyss until I fall back to sleep.” I shrug and his eyes soften.

“How often is that?”

“Depends.”

“On what?” he pushes, and I let out a sigh as I crawl over to him and straddle his lap.

“Forget it.” I lean forward to kiss him and he leans his back against the headboard before pulling away.

His hands land on my waist before they trail down to my thighs, his thumb trailing over the scars I marked myself with.

“I wanna know.”

I know, and I still can’t understand why.

His eyes meet mine and I force a smile. “I’m sitting on your lap shirtless and I can feel how hard you are, yet you want to talk about my depression? Are you a sadist?”

A smirk grows on his lips. “What gave it away?”

I roll my eyes at him and he turns more serious. Pulling in a deep breath, I decide to see where this goes. “It’s pretty often. It’s like spinning a wheel. Sometimes I’m sad enough to lay in bed all day, other days I need to drink or get high… sometimes this happens.” I look down at my thighs and he rubs my scars again so tenderly.

“Can you feel which one is coming or does it just hit?”

“I can feel it most times.” I nod to myself. “When I’m going to relapse, it’s like this pull to drink, this urging need for it, and my brain justifies it until I give in. Same with getting high. Sometimes it’s triggered, other times it’s not.” I shrug, and when my eyes meet his, he nods in understanding.

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