“He said he loved me,” she whispered, between sniffles, leaning back into his warmth. Ace didn’t like touch, didn’t do affection, so it was a little strange the way he’d wrapped himself around her, with an endearment in his words — she’d expected just a sidewise hug, a brief wrap of his arm around her shoulders.
She turned her head, and his face was /right there/, so she rested her forehead on his cheek. “‘m sorry,” she said, again. Her voice cracked in the middle. “I’ll just — I’m going to — ” She trailed off, because she didn’t want to move. She wanted to stay here, with his arms around her, safe.
“Sometimes, we say words that don’t mean a thing,” Ace spoke subconsciously. It came out as a dull mumble, an idle one. His mind was some other place, namely how good she smelt and how he molded perfectly around her, how she fit remarkably in his embrace, but still… there.
How strange.
“Whether it be to ourselves or others. Which is why I prefer to listen.”
Ace’s breath hitched in his throat when she spun around, his heart once again beginning to beat when she pressed her forehead to his cheek.
“No, you’re not,” he said, though it was almost obvious when she made no move to untangle herself from him.
She shifted just enough to bring a hand up and swipe at her tears, the other hand gripping at Ace’s shirt. Her throat ached with the effort of holding back more tears, and her head throbbed. “Ace, I — how do I even know who to believe?
“I believed him, and this — how many times — ” Her voice broke again. “I just want someone to care about me.”