Finding Home In A Person
Finding Home In A Person fear stories
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sloanad
sloanad Community member
Autoplay OFF   •   4 years ago
A story about finding someone you love so much that they become your home.

Finding Home In A Person

“I don’t want to be like her,” the words bubble past my lips before I can stop them. But he doesn't flinch, just grasps my hand in his with silent solidarity. “You could never–“

“I could.” That was the problem. I could see all of our similar traits winding together like a parasitic vine. Like water-colors blending together on paper.

It wouldn’t take too much for me to wind up like her. Just a little resentment. Some alcohol. Addiction.

“No. You couldn’t,” he smiles. “Because you are too kind. Because you don’t want to be resentful. Because you want to be good. That’s why you would never be like her.

Just because you share some genes with her does not make you a bad person. You are not a bad person, Madeline.”

“But I could be, Derrick. I could be, that’s the point,” I snap. “I am half her. I share her DNA. It’s there inside of me, and the statistics are against me.”

“When have statistics ever stopped you before?” He tugs on a strand of my hair, his breath fogging my glasses. “Only about 2 percent of the population have red hair, and only 17 have blue eyes."

"The fact that you exist is a fucking miracle, Maddie."

"And the fact that I met you— fuck, Maddie… statistically speaking it was more likely for me to be struck by lightening than to have run across you."

"So why are you so worried about the statistics. Don’t you know that your life can be anything you want it to."

"An alcoholic isn’t an alcoholic because of their genes, its because they let themselves fall down that path. It’s all about the choices you make, Maddie."

"If you don’t want to be an alcoholic, then avoid alcohol. Use it sparsely. Don’t drink when your sad. Don’t rely on how it makes you feel.” He smiles, so sure of himself its intoxicating.

“But what if I feel too much.”

“Then scream. Shout off of the top of a mountain. Keep a journal. Talk to me. Find something, or someone you love and invest your time in cultivating those good feelings."

"Don’t dwell on the bad or it will find a way to suffocate you.” I shift backward, unable to look him in the eyes for fear of what I’ll see when I say my next words. How he’ll react.

If I’ll loose him too. “What if I’m scared of how I feel, of letting myself feel that way about you.”

“Hypothetically,” I can hear the grin on his lips. “I would say you have no reason to be scared. Hypothetically, I feel the same about you— minus the fear.”

“What?” I snap my eyes onto his, examining every line on his face, trying to figure out if what he’s saying could possibly be true.

“Hypothetically speaking, why would you like someone like me?” He tucks a strand of hair behind my ear, leaning closer.

“Because you are kind, and honest, and you have the most beautiful laugh in the world. Because you love my stupid jokes, and you make me laugh."

"Because you might not be perfect, but you’re perfect for me.”

“Hypothetically?”

“No,” he says. “Not hypothetically. I’m not going to lie about how I feel.” And for a moment I forget about the fear, I forget about being afraid, and the future.

For a moment I’m just a girl with shaky hands, and sweaty palms, trying to figure out if it’d be weird if I kissed him. Do I just grab him by the face, and pull him in.

Or, do I wait for him to make the move. Or— But before I could do anything his hands are on my waist, pulling me closer.

And, with s squeak I meet his eyes, his lips hovering in front of mine, waiting. I close the gap.

And it isn’t fireworks, or tingles. I don’t hear explosions… No… It’s much better than all that crap. Just a radiating warmth.

Feeling more comfortable around someone else than I ever have before. He feels like home.

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