Breaking Point

This is just my random babbling but...

The other day I was on instagram and I saw those cute little lingery bras for like A cups. They were so cute. Then I looked in the comments and everyone was debating that big boobs are better than small boobs and vice versa. Then I came across this one comment that said, "Small boobs are better. Much more classy."

😕😕😕 Ummm... I was like, how are smaller boobs classy then I thought of a much better way to phrase it; how in the hell are boobs classy in the first place!? So women who had breast cancer and had to remove their boobs, what would you call them?

I'm just sayin that everyone is beautiful and everyone is made different. These people are taking things way too far. The size of your chest doesn't and can't determine how classy a woman is. Pissin me off.

End of babbling. 😘😘😘

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^ And my thoughts still stand.

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When I wake up, my bladder's all kinds of full.

My room's dark and the moon is high in the night sky. I only know that because it's the only source of light shining through the open curtains drawn by the french doors leading to my balcony. The doors are cracked open, but I don't remember leaving them like that. I think back, long and hard for a second, before coming to the conclusion that I probably had.

It's when I move a little that I feel the grip. I stop and look down and my face heat up at the sight.

Why is he still here? I think. I'm more than sure my dad kicked him out a couple of hours ago.

My eyes drift back to the balcony and I shake my head. He is not that crazy.

Currently, Arthur's using me as a human pillow--the moonlight shining across his back. The light's glistening off his hair, and I desperately want to see what he looks like with it illuminating his face. I'm laying on my side and his face is pressing into my stomach with his arms around my waist in a tight embrace. My hurt leg is hitched over his torso and my other sandwiched between both of his. I don't even know how he got into my bed and wrapped around me like this without me waking up. Something must seriously be wrong with me.

What has my body heating up, however, is the deathly grip his large hand has on my behind.

He really wants that lawsuit and it shows.

I start moving again, trying to get out of his death grip but he just squeezes me tighter. My face gets hotter when that action includes his hand on my butt. His palm is open against my backside as if he's trying to hold it all in his hand.

Sickeningly, I smile. He has small hands then if he thinks that's going to happen.

Feeling a little more confident, I reach down to run my fingers through his dark hair, smoothing the knots that had formed. He snuggles his face deeper into my stomach seconds later and I know he's awake. "Arthur, get up. Where'd you even come from? You know breaking and entering is illegal, right?"

He grumbles into my skin and press my fist to my mouth to stop from laughing at the feeling. Arthur looks up at me without moving his face from my stomach and I can see the mischief in his expression.

He moves away a little with a smirk to ask, "You're ticklish?" It sounds more of a statement, but I don't dare answer either way.

I wipe all traces of humor from my face and shake my head, hoping he'll buy it. He doesn't.

He leans in again and nips at my skin with his teeth. It takes everything in me not to let out a loud shriek and my hand shoots out to push his head away.

He grins at me. "Liar." Then he keeps biting my belly. His teeth pulling at the same spot as I try to keep my laughs to a low volume while trying to push his head away.

"S-Stop, I w-wanna pee!" I whisper-shout.

Arthur stops and stares at me. He's breathtaking at this angle, with the white light shining across his face and glinting off the ring in his bottom lip. I really want to take his picture. It will most likely do great for my photography class. He's a work of art.

"That was very attractive." He smirks at me, but I knew he's being sarcastic and a tease. He gives me another squeeze and my face feels like it's on fire when I realize his hands never moved from where they were before. At this point, my face might as well end up with a permanent blush. Since he came into my life, I haven't gone five minutes without blushing in his presence.

"Um..." I try wiggling out of his embrace only for him to squeeze my butt again, informing me that I'm doing nothing but pushing it back in his hand.

Throwing my head back into my pillow, I stare up at the dark ceiling and let out a loud sigh. I like what he's doing, but I need to pee. My gaze drops back down to him and he's already staring up at me, tugging his lips ring between his teeth.

I let out another sigh because it's getting harder for me to act like I'm neutral about this whole thing.

Okay, Grace, you're in your parents' house. This is not the time or place. What's wrong with you?

"I really have to pee..." I mutter, staring at him, but I'm thinking about a lot of other things I will rather be doing.

He chuckles, and my skin warms where his breath hits my stomach. He nips at the skin again, causing me to let out a low squeal and jerk away. He lets out a breathy laugh and says, "Okay."

He gets up and helps me up--without lifting me this time--and guides me to my bathroom. He leads me all the way to my toilet, as if I don't know where it is, then stands there.

I lift an eyebrow at him--a silent gesture for him to leave. He doesn't. He continues to stand there, staring. Then something hit me. I look up at my shower curtain which has multiple lace bras hanging over the top of it. This is why I didn't him in here earlier.

I try really hard to stop the heat crawling up my neck and burning my ears, but I fail. Why am I blushing so much these days!? Oh I know, because I've never gotten this kind of attention before and no one's ever been in my bathroom when I have underwear all over the place!

I bet he thinks I'm the one that buys them. He's wrong. Every time my mother goes shopping she comes back with at least two sets of ungodly underwear from wherever she gets them. I never ask her to buy them, she just does, but I can't say I don't like them. They feel nice. The first time she bought me some and told me to try them on, I was more than embarrassed, but they were pretty so I did. I felt like I was sinning over and over again as I modeled them for her. Mostly the bras, because those things can be very uncomfortable and she has a sixth sense on how to tell if I'm not feeling it or they're not sitting like they're supposed to.

As much as I appreciate it, I felt like God was looking down at me and shaking his head in disapproval each time. After a while, I got used to it.

She'd said that she thought I was 'too shy' to buy underwear like that for myself and she was right. Who can blame me! I've never seen myself wearing anything like that. Not so soon anyway. I've always said that I'd try it when I started college so that I can feel more womanly then, but my mom beat me to it.

"Sexy." Arthur voices and I look over at him as blankly as I can but tingles were running up and down my spine.

Get it together, Grace!

"Get out," I say after making sure my voice will come out steady.

He lets out a low chuckle. The sound does things to my body and I feel dirty. I'm going to have to pray longer than usual tonight.

He walks out of the bathroom and closes the door behind him. A long sigh leaves my lips the second he does, and I refrain from banging my head against the wall.

When I'm done, I wash my hands and stare at myself in the mirror above the sink.

I'm not ugly.  At least, not from my point of view. My face is chubby--it's always been--and I like it. I like the way my hair frames my face perfectly and stops right at my shoulders. It gets longer after I straighten my curls, and stretches a few inches down my back. I like the way my eyes sparkle when the light hits them just right. I like me.

"You're beautiful, Gorgeous." Arthur's voice carries from the doorway.

I grip the edge of the sink and bring one of my hands up to clutch my chest, my heart beating erratically. I take a couple of breaths to calm myself then turn to glare at him.

"Would you at least give me a warning?"

A smile stretches across his face but he doesn't answer.

"What if I wasn't done?" I retort.

I limp my way past him, out of the bathroom, and toward my bed. I'm about to crawl on top of it but stop. Brief moments of what had happened today comes back to me, especially what happened after school. I can't push away the overwhelming urge to ask him one question.

"Did you know?" I turn to look at him. He's closer than I expect, but I don't dwell on it.

When he speaks his tone and expression are curious. "Know what?"

"That he was cheating on me?" I whisper. I have a feeling he did.

I didn't want to know the truth that John was, but I needed to know... if Arthur knew. If I was the only one who didn't know.

It takes him a while to respond, and when he does, it's barely audible. "I've heard rumors."

It hurts all over again. Not as much as it did at first, but there's no denying the slight pang in my chest. I frown, my eyebrows furrowing. "Was it me?" I ask, more to myself than him.

I know I wasn't what John wanted, but I can't not question why he hadn't just broken up with me in the first place instead of hurting me like this. It would've saved us wasted time and me feeling the way I do now. And him humiliating himself trying to convince me otherwise.

"No, it's not you." His voice is low with defense and anger. "It was never you." He reaches up and moves my hair from my face gently.

"I've never done anything bad." I look up at him. I'm sure he can see my conflict. I just need to understand. "I always tried to make him comfortable-"

"I know." He cuts me off and pulls me closer. "You were perfect. He never deserved you, Gorgeous."

I move away from him and sit on the edge of my bed. The soft surface dips under me. I drop my face in my hands, trying to stop myself from going down this road. Now right now--not with Arthur standing right there. But the thoughts keep coming anyway.

What did I ever do to him for him to dislike me that much that he'll go that far? I never made him feel alone. I helped him when he was struggling, I'd buy him coffee in the morning when we were on our way to school, I cooked for him, gave him massages when he was stressed out about anything--anything at all!--and this is what I get? I guess that's what they mean when they say that high school changes people. Or is it college? Either way, it sucks.

The worse part is, he wasn't always the way he was. Whenever we were alone we were fine. We were great actually. He'd help me cook, help me with homework, take me out, and even though it never went to drastic measures, we'd cuddle and just talk about anything. And he'd promise to stop treating me the way he did. Every time, he promised and every time, I believed him. But then, we went to school and all of that seemed to just erase from his memory and I was his desperate, clingy, fat girlfriend.

My chest is caving.

Arthur breaks me out of my state of misery with a hard voice. "Why does it matter, huh?" I look up at his cold glare and flinch. "Why does it matter so much to you when he treated you like absolute trash, Grace?" He tries to keep his voice down but I can tell he's overflowing with anger by the way his chest is heaving and his fists are clenched by his sides.

"Because he was my boyfriend." I glare right back at him.

He looks away, his jaw clenching then looks back at me and says, "Was. Not anymore."

I chew on my bottom lip, blinking away my tears. "Maybe so." I shrugged. "What? Am I supposed to forget my feelings for him, then? Yeah, he treated me like trash, but he wasn't always like that, so I just overlook what he did right? I just want to understand, Arthur. I can't just throw it all under a rug and act like it doesn't hurt."

I watched him force himself not to look at me as I bite my lip to stifle my cries. The last thing I want is my parents running in here right now, but I'm hurting. My head, my heart- everything just hurts.

I get that this makes him angry, but I can't ignore everything that I'm feeling. Not anymore. And not for anyone.

The tense silence goes on for probably a minute before I get up and half limp, half walk over to him. When I'm close to him, he takes a step back. I'm not going to lie and say that it doesn't sting and makes me feel stupid for even bringing up the topic. Everything was fine before I did. But I will not let myself think that way. My feelings matter, just as much as Arthur's, and if I'd knew it would've bothered him this much, I probably would've kept it to myself.

"Arthur," I say softly.

My chest is still heaving but only because I'm still forcing everything down. That's one of the rare things I hate about myself. I cry easily. I hate it. It makes me feel weak and helpless and dependent. I want to be strong but even when I will myself not to cry, I still do.

My eyes are almost overflowing with tears at this point and it's becoming impossible for me to hold them back anymore. I don't want Arthur to see me like this.

I gather myself as best as I can and try to speak. "I-I'm-" I have to stop and take a deep breath, "Sorry, that I upset yo-"

"I'm not upset." He grits out. His hands are still clenched tightly and his features hard under the white moonlight. He's still so handsome.

I don't point out that his body language is giving him away, and I start talking. "It's just one of those th-things that I always wanted to kn-know." I try to calm myself down, taking more deep breaths. "It just doesn't make any sense why he'd put up with me in the first place if..." I trail off, seeing him look down at his feet, shaking his head slightly. So, I change the direction. "I just want to know why he did that to me, that's all." I look up at him, and he hasn't lifted his gaze. "I just-" An uncontrollable sob breaks through me and I turn my back to him.

"Grace."

"N-No. Leave." I get out through my sobs. I've been holding this in for weeks. I never cried because I promised myself I wouldn't. Breaking up with him was the right thing to do. I'm sure of it, but this was my breaking point, and Arthur just happened to be here to see it.

"Only thing that pisses me off," Arthur says from behind me, "is that that asshole could look into those eyes and still had the nerve to treat you the way he did."

I let out an embarrassing hiccup, wrapping my arms around my middle and turning my head to wipe my face on my shoulder.

Hands slide to my waist and slowly turn me. I don't look up at him as my body shakes violently. Of all the times I'd been told I was weak, this is the ultimate proof of that. He places his hands on my face and tilts it up, staring into my eyes. I stare up at his blurred face through my wet lashes. Despite that, I can tell his expression is softer and the only trace of anger he's wearing isn't directed to me.

He wipes the tears from my face gently, brushing his fingers across my cheeks and moving my hair away from my face.

"You're strong, Grace." I let out another sob at his words. I shake my head at him. He's just saying that because I'm crying. He doesn't mean it. "Yes, you are." He whispers and kisses my forehead. I close my eyes and savor the feeling. "And right now, what you need is sleep."

He leans down and takes me in his arms. I didn't have enough energy to feel embarrassed or scared this time. I lay my head on his shoulder, my eyelids drooping tiredly. He places me down on the bed first and crawls in after, then makes sure that my injured ankle is carefully slung over his waist.

"Did you really break into my room, Arthur?" I whisper.

He doesn't answer right away, but his reply is nonchalant. "It's not that far a jump."

My dad's gonna strangle him.

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Sorry for the late update. I was just being a lazy lizard. I wanted to ask if you guys could check out my other books. They're kind of dark. Well, darker than this one. This book is all rainbows and unicorns compared to what I have in mind for the other ones. I'd appreciate it big time.

And also thank you guys so much for supporting. It means a lot to me. 😘😘😘 Thank you!!!