Hey guys! Thank you for all the amazingly kind reviews. I'm sorry this took so long I was hoping to have this done and up by Friday or Saturday night, but I ended up going to a few parties instead. Hopefully I can get a few up this week.
I'm going to dedicate this drabble to kab16 for you had a chemistry test the other day and those are just horrible. How did it go, by the by?
I cheated with this drabble. My iPod was not on shuffle for this drabble. This song, for some reason, popped into my head and I automatically thought Juliet.
I don't really like playing by the rules anyways.
I hope you enjoy this one! :)
There is a house built out of stone
Wooden floors, walls and window sills
Tables and chairs worn by all of the dust
This is a place where I don't feel alone
This is a place where I feel at home
And I built a home
I Built a Home/Cinematic Orchestra
Home. She hasn't had a home since her parents divorced decades ago. Shuffled between parents, then college, then Edmund—that was a complete joke, that is unless his version of a home consisted of an emotionally damaged wife and several different mistresses—and then the Island—her own personal hell with Ben playing the role of sweet Satan. She'd like to say that her life was thoroughly fucked from the moment her family shattered, but she can't place all the blame on her parents. She supposes she could have tired a little harder, could have picked up the pieces and put them put them back together a little better, but it was a bit hard when you're whole entire view on relationships and life itself had been completely warped. Her whole life she had been determined to prove her parents wrong, to prove that two people can love each other and be meant to be together—at times she wished she hadn't tried so hard. She stayed with Edmund to prove them wrong—what a mistake that was. Then there was Goodwin, who she continued to have an affair with to prove them wrong, in the hopes that they were meant to be together and that he'd leave that horrid wife of his. Then there was Ben, who left her no reason to prove them wrong for the single undeniable fact that the relationship was completely one sided—that being his side only.
Then there was James. James. A man just like her—without a sense of belonging, without a home. He understood her—understood the pain a broken family could inflict upon the human psyche. She no longer had to prove them wrong, because with James they were wrong. She had met the man who she was truly meant to be with, the man who she loved more than life itself, the man who made her feel at home. Home.
She has never felt more at home than at this very moment. Together they lie in a sea of sheets—she is the vessel and ironically enough he is the captain, exploring every last bit of her. She can feel his rough hands caressing the soft skin of her thighs as his lips leave a tender trail of open mouthed kisses along her jaw line. It's as if with every kiss a word is spoken—you, kiss. belong, kiss. right, kiss. here, kiss—formulating a sentence she has always desired to hear. She doesn't think she has ever been this happy in her entire life. She has never felt this whole, this complete.
"Juliet, what's the matter?" She feels him abruptly halt his exploration and focuses her eyes on his worried pair. It only takes her a brief moment to realize she's crying—if there was any indication it would certainly be the hot tears cascading down her cheeks. His thumb is there in an instant—like always—to catch the escaping droplets.
"Its ju-, its nothing," she replies, forcing a smile that doesn't quite reach her eyes and glancing at anything besides Sawyer. She's not used to showing this kind of emotion—it was always frown upon by others.
"Juliet," his voice is exuding with concern as her name travels through the air, soft on his lips. It takes all the emotional strength within her to make eye contact, the connection that he's begging her for—and oh, how good he is a reeling her in with just one simple word, a name.
"I," she speaks with hesitation, opening and closing her mouth several times. She mulls over the words formulating in her head—she's never had this feeling, this feeling of security, of safety. The tears continue to trickle down her cheeks as she continues, "I feel like—I feel this is where I belong, where I'm supposed to be. I finally feel that this—" she smiles and laughs through the tears as she speaks the though, "I feel at home."
"I ain't ever had a home, 'til I met you." She knows. She knows that he understands—probably more than she realizes. Gently kissing her tears away, he continues, "You don't ever have to feel alone again, Jules. I love you, and I ain't going nowhere."
"I love you too, so much," she smiles through the seemingly relentless tears—no longer tears of sorrow, but rather tears of joy.
She never thought she'd feel at home in this hellhole, but she never realized all she truly needed to make a home was him.
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