Page 75 of Love is Strange
“I’m just gonna go to bed. It’s late anyway and I’ll be better in the morning,” he says indifferently as he damn near stomps the entire way back toward our bedroom.
I set my drink on the coffee table and sigh as I lay down on the couch. Talking to him is obviously out of the question now, so I’ll just watch the rest of this movie by myself and pray that I don’t have any nightmares.
Although I don’t think anything could possibly scare me more than Icarus when he’s in a bad mood.
Chapter Seven
"Mm.”
I roll over onto my side and wrap my arms around myself. I blink lazily a few times before I open my eyes and find myself staring at the back of the couch.
“What?” I mumble in confusion as I turn onto my back and glance up at the living room ceiling. It takes me a moment to focus but I understand why I’m out here now.
Icarus left me on the couch after he went to bed.
I yawn, stretching my arms over my head before I push myself to a seated position and rub my hands over my face in an attempt to wake myself up completely.
He’s still pissed, otherwise he would have turned off the television and carried me to bed. Instead, I’m sitting in a dark living room that’s illuminated by the DVD title menu on loop and I’m feeling a little alone right now.
I reach for the remote and turn off the movie, then the television before I get up and walk over toward the closet. Pulling the door open, I push myself up onto my tiptoes and run my hands blindly along the top shelf.
I know there’s a spare blanket in there somewhere, but since Icarus is the one that stocks the damn thing, and he’s about a foot taller than me, he’s the only one that can reach the fucking thing without struggling.
I almost admit defeat when I decide to go into the kitchen for my chair. I’ll carry it back and push it as close as I can, I should be able to get a better reach that way. I feel quite proud of myself for not giving up like I normally would. But in those instances, I can always ask Rus to get what I can’t reach but that’s not plausible this time.
I walk as quietly as I can across the carpet until I reach the hardwood flooring in the kitchen. I smile as I look down at it because it’s something that Icarus put in himself, and he’s quite proud of it. Of course, he’s always been amazing with his hands—in and out of bed.
I shake my head fondly as I take my steps into the kitchen, sighing when I think about how much easier it would be right now if I could just crawl into our bed, but he needs his space and I need mine. I won’t force him to love me when he’s obviously hurt about my insinuation like I wouldn’t force him to love me in any of my angry moments toward him.
A raging sea and an ancient mountain destined to crash against each other for eternity because of how deeply they love one another, unwilling to destroy the other.
That sums up my life with Icarus and I wouldn’t change it for anything in the world.
“Oh my God!”
My voice catches in my throat as I take an impulsive step backwards. I had been so lost in my own thoughts I didn’t notice I wasn’t alone.
“Rus? Are you … are you okay?” I ask the shadow leaning against the wall. The only thing dividing the space between him and my chair is the window that I like to spend my time catching glimpses of the outside world through and for some reason, I feel uneasy.
He doesn’t answer me.
The silence is enough to jar my soul, but I won’t walk away from him because I’m not like everyone else he’s ever known in his life.
“Rus?” I ask again.
He lets out an odd sound—something reminiscent of a growl and sigh before he finally acknowledges that I’m in the room with him.
“Ella, can I tell you something?” he asks in a low tone, one I don’t quite recognize.
“You can tell me anything,” I reply as bravely as I can.
My insides are screaming at me; trying to warn me that something’s wrong, but I don’t listen because I’m too intoxicated by the love I feel for him to even realize that I may be in danger for the first time since falling in love with him.
“I’m scared,” he says quietly as he moves to my chair and sits down. He drops his face into his hands and lets out a shuddering breath, causing me to walk quickly into the room and wrap an arm protectively around his shoulders.
“Of what?” I ask softly.
“Of losing you,” he replies in a strained voice.
