36. Aurora

THIRTY-SIX

AURORA

Let Me Love You, Glee Cast

Roe

Despite the ominous sky and the chill from the rain hitting my skin on this hot day, I’m running. Running through the feelings, the emotions. My old therapist used to say that crying was good for processing emotions. That it’s needed every now and then so as to not get clogged up in our systems. Well… I don’t even remember the last time I let myself feel so much, and it fucking sucks. I’m tired of this numbness inside but feeling this deep is breaking me apart. I’m tired of the black hole that consumes me every day but this flood of emotions is not any better. I just want to shut it all off.

A shower and now the rain, both to match my tears. It’s like the force that’s ripping me from the inside wants to be heard. Even the sky feels it. I let out a guttural scream and keep running, hoping the rain will wash me away with my tears.

Big, calloused hands take hold of my wrist from behind just as a broken sound leaves his mouth. “Aurora, please stop.” Not Roe or princesa. Aurora. He only calls me that when he needs to get his point across. When he needs me to hear him.

That’s the thing: I hear him loud and clear. I always do. I need him to understand that’s not the issue. He doesn ’ t have to say more for me to know that I ’ m hurting him. But I don ’ t know how to make it stop. How do you stop your heart from shattering completely? From losing the last piece of hope it has left at a life of contentment? From taking with it one of the purest souls you’ve ever met?

“Sh, sh, sh, it’s okay, princesa, let it out. Lean on me, let me help you with the load.” That’s when I notice that my silent tears have turned into agonizing sobs. I bury my face in his chest, letting him console me; once again giving up on trying to fight whatever this is that I have against him helping me, because it’s just not working.

I don’t even know where my brain is at until the words come out of my mouth cascading into a desperate fall. “I can’t, Saint,” I say in a broken supplication, “Don’t you get it? You will die, too. I’d rather not have you at all than lose you too. I wouldn’t be able to survive that.” I cover my mouth in an attempt to stifle my sobs. “I won’t survive you dying, too.”

“Nothing you do can harm me more than you pushing me away, amor.” Love ; four letters that I am terrified of and that I swore I would never say again. Can I actually be in love with him? Is this what this is? Love?

“Let me in. Let me show you I can hold you. Hold both your joy and your pain. Hold your wins and your losses. Let me prove to you that you’re worthy. Give me time to convince you that I can love you the way you should be loved. The way you deserve. Your past doesn’t scare me, princesa. If anything, it just makes me want to hold you tighter. What you’ve been through. It doesn’t make you less,” he urges, kissing my head before continuing, “it makes you stronger. Una guerrera? 1 . Una campeona? 2 . Una muestra de que todo se puede? 3 .”

I have no clue what any of that means, but it sure sounds like he believes in me; like he truly wants to be a part of my fucked-up life.

I wrap my arms around this gentle giant. The solid rock of a man who I somehow hated only a short time ago. He rubs my head gently and has not moved an inch, no matter how hard I squeeze. The rain falling over us, soaking us both, and his body flushed against mine is helping me settle. He’s helping me ground myself and is making me less and less overstimulated. Like this is all the sensory input I need to be balanced. Just his arms and the rain, in the middle of the damn trail.

He grabs my face with his perfect hands, tilting my face to look at him, but I keep my eyes closed. This is too much. Too much to feel, too much to handle.

“Mirame, princesa,” he says. Look at me . My favorite phrase from him. He rubs his knuckles against my chin, kissing my forehead, eyelids, and temple. And when I open my eyes, his beautiful whiskey irises are full of an emotion I have not seen looking at me in so long.

“I love you, Aurora. Loving you won’t kill me, but you not letting me in might. Please don’t shut the door.” Saint’s eyes are trained on mine as both hands cup my face. His heartbeat under the palm of my hands is steady, settling mine down. Grounding me again. He lowers his head and brushes his lips against mine. His breath a soft caress, making me break into goosebumps while he whispers, “Te amo, princesa. I’m not going anywhere.”

Saint’s lips crash to mine, but not with the same hunger that he usually has for me. This kiss is slow and tender, full of emotion. He takes his time, his lips molding against mine, perfectly in tune with my heart. I really hope he means what he says because I don’t think I could survive after him; not with the way he’s kissing me and the way his hands are holding me. Like I’m made of porcelain and he’s afraid he’ll break me. Like his lips have all the secrets to my worries and like his soul is gently caressing mine. Suddenly there’s too much space between us and the rain that was soothing one minute ago is now making my shoulders tense and my eyes roam on the space. He must sense that tension and picks me up, not breaking the kiss once, and walks us backward under an oak tree in the middle of the Saint Mary’s trail to shield us from the rain.

“Promise me you won’t leave me,” I plead between peppering kisses, not letting go of this man.

“I promise, princesa. If I could show you my heart I would, so you can see that it only beats for you,” he replies without hesitation. And I don’t know when we went from rivals to fuck buddies to this– whatever it is. I don’t have the brain capacity to figure it out. But tonight, I want to feel safe, loved, and cared for. I want to let this man in and let him show me how much he means those words.

“Then show me that you really mean it. Show me that you love me,” I insist. But when I think that he’ll just fuck me senseless, he does the unexpected and picks me up. Good thing I live a few blocks from the trail because this man knows going home is exactly what I need as he walks me there.

After we get in the house, he dries me with a towel, puts one of his shirts on me and places me on the couch delicately. He goes to the kitchen and comes back a few minutes later with hot cocoa. The fuck? He even added marshmallows on top. And maybe I don’t need a man. But Saint bringing me my comfort drink without knowing it? On the day all the tears that my body has been hoarding for almost a decade come out? Yeah. That might be exactly what I need.

“You know, when I said show me you love me, I was expecting you to rail me against the oak tree, not bring me home, wrap me up like a burrito and make me hot cocoa,” I joke, sipping on my drink and placing my feet on top of his legs.

Saint smiles lazily at me as he sits with his feet propped on my coffee table. “I always want to be inside of you. But when I told you I love you, Aurora, I didn’t mean I just love fucking you.”

I raise my eyebrows at him, and Saint laughs, raising his hands in surrender. “Don’t even start,” he quips, not dropping my gaze. “I didn’t say I don’t want to. We’ve talked about this; there’s not a minute in the day where I don’t want to be holding your body to mine. Not a moment passes that I don’t want to be inside of you, hearing the sweet sounds you make when I push you to feel everything.”

Well then, boy, okay. My whole body reacts to that statement and he’s only talking to me. Great, Roe, you ’ re more fucked than you thought.

“But what I need you to understand, princesa, is that you’re so worthy of love beyond your body. In case nobody has told you lately—and God I hope nobody has so I don’t have to punch a motherfucker—you’re sweet, funny, and kind. I know you mask your tenderness with...what is it that you call it? Badassery?”

I nod with a smile when he says that because I guess he pays more attention than I thought.

“I know you don’t want to hear it but I fell in love with you, Roe. Your little outbursts, random questions, lack of sleep, and the way you need very little from others yet you give wholeheartedly. I fell in love with your taste in music, your willingness to push through hard things to be the best you can be at everything you set your mind to, and yes, I fell in love with your body too.”

Saint reaches for my hands and brings one to his mouth, kissing my knuckles. “I fell for your artistry.”

He peppers kisses up my arm. “Your creativity and your tattoos too.”

He kisses my shoulder, neck, and my chin. “I fell in love with your soft skin, your heart, and how you don’t take shit from anyone.”

He kisses my temple and adds, “I fell in love with your beautiful blue eyes that remind me of my second favorite place in the world. I fell in love with your brain—” he taps on my temple and kisses my forehead “—even when your neuro-spiciness makes you forget to eat or to lock your door.”

Saint brings his hand to my chin again and rubs my bottom lip with his thumb. “I fell in love with your lips and the way you respond to my kisses.” His hand lowers to my chest as he continues, “And I fell in love with your heart. You’re not hollow, amor. You just have a tall wall, keeping your heart hostage. Protecting it after going through more pain than anyone should go through, let alone as a little girl.”

I set the mug down on the table, making it thud louder than I expected, and crawl over the couch to Saint, who’s surprised by this as much as I am. I sit on his lap and lay my head on his chest while saying, “Thank you, Saint.”

“For what, princesa?” he asks, his hand falling immediately to my back.

“For loving me, I guess,” I reply, my voice shaking. This is why I hate crying. One tear leads to a fucking series of emotions that I hate dealing with. “Saint, I—” I start but he stops me.

“I don’t want you to say something you’re not ready for, amor. Just be with me right now and promise me that you’ll try to stop pushing me away every time I’m getting closer to you. Let me love you.”

“But what if you?—”

“No ifs, buts, or maybes, princesa. Just,” he sighs, “let me love you. Everything else, we can figure out a day at a time, okay?” He kisses my head again and I don’t know why, but that gesture alone means more than he could ever know. Maybe he’s right, too; maybe I can just let him love me and we can try this a day at a time, and hope that he doesn’t get taken from me too.

1 ? guerrera: warrior

2 ? campeona: champion

3 ? Una muestra de que todo se puede: living proof that everything is possible