1 - Mixed Feelings

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I am woken up by the strong rays of sun that penetrate through my window

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I am woken up by the strong rays of sun that penetrate through my window. 

Abby's body is moulded to mine while she sleeps peacefully, with her head resting on my chest. 

Usually, I love having her like this but it's too hot this morning. Even if it's still early, I'm a sweaty mess and her body heat only adds to my discomfort. Especially after last night.

It happens more times than I'd like to admit. And deep down there's a part of me that's happy I'll leave for college today because I don't know if I could go through this almost every single day.

I mean, I am sure we will argue even more once I'm there but the fact that we're not going to be close physically brings me some weird kind of comfort. 

It gives me some mixed feelings. Because it shouldn't bring me comfort. I feel extremely guilty about it because I love this girl to death.

However, it's a never-ending cycle. We argue. I lose my temper and yell at her. She cries and I feel guilty. Then I apologize and we end up making love.

I know it's become toxic over the last couple of years but she's also my best friend and I love her.

So, I'll do everything in my power to make this work. To try and make her happy, the best I can. That's what I've been taught to do in a relationship, that's what my parents do.

I aim to have a relationship like they have. To be as in love and dedicated as they are.

I need to get up and make breakfast, staying here and wallowing will only worsen my mood.

With a sigh, I disentangle myself from her. Slowly, so she doesn't wake up.

Holding her head, I put my pillow underneath so it supports her, just like my chest was doing a minute ago. And she didn't even stir.

I put on some shorts and a t-shirt before leaving the bedroom. Usually, I walk around the house in boxers. The only woman in the house is my mom, and she doesn't mind it, but Abby does. She doesn't like me walking around almost naked so, I got used to dressing something.

As I come down the stairs, heading to the kitchen, I see some movement from the corner of my eye and notice my dad groaning on the couch.

Did he sleep there or has he just arrived from the hospital? I thought he had a few days off to help out with my moving.

Automatically I walk up to him and touch his shoulder, to see if he is awake or sleeping. He opens his eyes slightly startled but it vanishes as soon as he sees me.

"Good morning son," He mumbles, rubbing his eyes.

"Why are you down here? Was there a night emergency at the hospital?" 

"No, ahm, your mom had a nightmare and I came down here."

Mom sometimes has them. 

It happened way more often when I was younger. But after dad found us when I was six, her nightmares reduced a lot, to the point they almost disappeared. The only situations  I remember she had them, after that,  were during March or Jeremy and Wilder's pregnancies. The hormones took a toll on her. Dad had to sleep on the couch almost every single day, back then.

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