California Dreamin'

“But this was the first time I was taking a risk, Dean. I was taking a chance. I was fighting alone and it was so scary. But it was also something that brought me out of my shell. Your love brought me out of my shell. I never would’ve imagined traveling out of state, let alone to California. I mean, I don’t like it that much but are you listening to what I’m saying? I live in California now. I live in a dorm, with people. I do everything by myself, on my own. It’s terrifying but isn’t that part of growing up?”

I smile at him and kiss his firm lips. “I grew up, Dean. I grew up because of it. Because you left. It hurt but I realized that some battles I had to fight on my own. You didn’t break your promise. You looked out for me even when you weren’t there. Sometimes it’s okay to be sad, you know. It’s okay to feel hurt. Because sometimes pain can create beautiful things. Sometimes pain can make you grow up. I grew up because of you.”

I run out of words and there are only breaths left between us, his and mine. Misty and slippery and warm. Hot even.

There’s only the rustle of our chests moving together as we stare at each other, in a large house with a tiny light in the entryway.

His cheek pulses underneath my palm, and then he’s taking his hands away from my face and putting them on my waist.

Before I can put two and two together, Dean has already lifted me off the ground and my thighs have already snaked themselves around his waist.

“Dean, what are you…” I trail off as he begins to walk inside. “What are you doing?”

By the time I finish my question, we’re halfway down the darkened hallway that leads to the back of the house with all the bedrooms.

Once again, we’re submerged in darkness—I don’t even know how he’s able to see where to go—but I feel as secure as ever. He has me plastered to his big, heavily breathing chest and I’ve tucked my nose on the side of his neck.

A second later we come into the light again. It’s buttery and yellow, much like the moon is when the night is deep and dark, and it’s coming from a small lamp on a nightstand.

We’re in his bedroom, I realize, standing by the edge of his bed.

My heart pounds in my chest and I squeeze my thighs that have suddenly gone all trembly. Breaking our hug, I take in his room.

Again, I’ve been here before, countless times.

But I’ve never seen it in the dark of the night. I’ve never seen his sheets messy or his dented pillow.

I’ve never seen the signs he leaves behind after he’s slept on his bed.

Although I don’t think he was sleeping at all. Not judging by the mayhem and chaos on his bed. The sheets are all tangled up, the pillows strewn about.

It’s like he was trying to get comfortable, but he couldn’t. It’s like he was tossing and turning and shifting, all alone in his bed.

Then my eyes fall on the heap of his travel clothes. They lie discarded and forgotten, like the empty pizza box.

My hands on his shoulders become a fist when I see what he probably had for dinner.

“Is that what you ate? Pizza?” I whisper, bringing my eyes to him.

He’s been watching me all this time.

Bathed in the buttery light of his nightlamp, Dean has been staring at me while I was staring at his room.

Belatedly I realize that he hasn’t spoken a single word. Not since I told him about what happened to me when I left. He simply lifted me off the ground and brought me into his room.

“Dean?”

Finally, he breaks his silence, as if my questions are distracting him from what the real issue is, from what he’s really thinking right now.

“Yeah. Pizza,” he murmurs, staring intently at me.

“I don’t like that.”

“You don’t?”

I shake my head, frowning. “No.”

“Why not?”

“Because you shouldn’t have to. You shouldn’t have to eat take-out, all alone in your big, dark house when Mom had cooked for you. When we all had dinner together. I don’t like you being alone.”

He smiles then, a tiny, sad smile. “But I’ve always been alone, Fallon. Ever since I was a kid. Ever since your dad found me at the cemetery on the day of my mom’s funeral. Even before that.”

I feel the pain of his words in my chest. So much so that it’s hard to breathe. But somehow, I manage to whisper, “You’re not alone, Dean. You’ve never been alone.”

“I didn’t know that,” he says softly, with a touch of awe in his voice. “I didn’t know that I wasn’t alone. That meeting with your dad was a stroke of fate. I had no idea that your dad finding me would lead me to find you. A girl who was born for me. A girl I watched grow up. A girl with so much strength and light and immense fucking love. Every day you stole a piece of my heart, Fallon. Every fucking day for as long as I can remember until there was nothing left in my chest. Until all my heart was gone. It was gone and it belonged to you. Every day I fought against it. I fought and battled and went to war with myself. Every day I cursed myself. I hated myself for these feelings. For years, I’d come to my big, dark house and lie awake in this bed, thinking that I’d stop seeing you, stop seeing your family. That I was betraying the only father figure I’ve known. I’m betraying the only mother I’ve known. But I could never do it. I could never distance myself and I’d hate myself even more for that. So I ran away. I ran to the other side of this country.