Waves of a Storm

For a minute, the heavy silence was unbroken even by the sound of breathing, because Clara seemed to have lost the ability to do that as well as utter a sentence.

A duration of time long enough to push those lingering insecurities to his head, fear crowding his heavy heart. The thought of the disgust she must be feeling dried his throat, and he suddenly felt vulnerable wearing nothing beneath the sheets.

He needed to find his pants and perhaps pick up the shattered pieces of his jacket along with his heart and...

"Will you be okay afterwards?"

He turned to the lips which had spoken in the softest whisper, and what he saw in her eyes weren't disgust.

It was he who didn't know what to say anymore, because he was grateful to have her and unsure of the answer himself. Over the past few days, the question had lingered in his head and he didn't have it all figured out yet.

And he was honest with her. "I don't know. I...I'm not confused about my feelings for her; I fucking hate her