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Description
(www.youtube.com/watch?v=Js16_Q… Please listen while you read!)

Thump...thump...thump...

Despite the calming music filling the room, the artificial sounds emanating from your sound machine, all you perceived was the pounding of your own heart. Peeling aches coursed from the top of your head down into the base of your neck. Your spine cried out from the pressure of your horrid posture, constantly hunching over a book or a laptop. Piles of notecards scattered about your room. Pieces of paper both used and discarded were strewn about the floor.

Every inch was covered with your efforts and struggles.

This paper, this thesis, was more than just a simple piece of homework. Your future resided in this work. This would either set you with the college you so dreamed of or completely derail it. You spent every hour of every day since the beginning of the semester slaving on what you hoped would become a masterpiece.

And the work was taking its toll on you.

Rarely did you sleep. In fact, you couldn’t even remember the last time you slept in your bed, as you just as easily passed out for a couple of hours on the couch, your chair or even the floor.

But, the anxiety.

Oh, the anxiety.

That horrid feeling of terror and dread, the pounding of your heart, sweating, your stomach literally in knots, your lungs constantly begging for air, dizziness, tension hit you like a ton of bricks. You would have gladly traded in all the muscle aches in the world if it meant ridding yourself of these ghastly sensations.

But, you embraced it now. Everything you attempted, every remedy you utilized never eased the pain.

And you would live with it until you were finished.

With a harsh sigh, you stood up and stretched your limbs, listening to the occasional crack and pop.

“Ugh, disgusting,” you grumbled, shuffling over to your desk.

“Beep!” went your phone as soon as you switched it on.

“What? 15 new texts?”

Your thumb swiped over the keypad. Then, you entered the inbox.

They all came from the same person: your boyfriend, Asahi Azumane.

Your already pounding heart raced even faster, causing sweat to dabble your forehead.

“Hey, babe. Wishing you luck on your paper.”

“Hey, babe. Thinking about you.”

“I miss you.”

“When will you be free?”

“Hey, I haven’t heard from you yet.”

Tears brimmed at the corners of your eyes.

“Babe, are you okay? I’m worried about you.”

“Are you home, baby? Can I come visit?”

“Fuck!” you hissed and slapped a hand to your forehead. “He’s probably so pissed!”

Yet, you continued through the messages, until the notifications disappeared. Unable to take it anymore, you pushed aside your phone and rubbed your face. You two had only been dating a month and a half before you started working on your thesis. You were at least calling and texting everyday. But, as time progressed, and as your anxiety piled on, you withdrew yourself more and more, until you finally stopped talking. You never doubted your affection for him.

In fact, it was just the opposite.

He was all you thought about.

When thoughts concerning your thesis released you, you thought of him. You wondered how he was. You worried about him. You hoped for his well being. You cried because you ached for him so.

Yet, too scared were you to confront him. Being tortured by this burden, the last thing you desired was to become a black hole to him, nothing more than an emotional vampire, complaining about your struggles and worries when he suffered from his own.

And so you withdrew from him, at least, until you could finally breathe easy.

After swallowing the tightening lump in your throat and wiping a tear from your ear, you rose from the couch and paced the room a bit. Your head reeled about so much so, it made you dizzy.

Was this the wrong choice? Was this straining your relationship with him? Was this making things worse? Was he angry with you? Would he break up with you? Would this make push him into the arms of another woman?

Over and over again, these voices screamed at you. Your heart raced faster and faster still. Cold sweat dripped down the contours of your face. Your breaths came in shallower and shallower, until you were almost certain you were about to fall apart.

Clutching the side of your head, you inhaled ready to scream.

Knock. Knock.

You froze.

Knock. Knock.

The...the front door?

Gulping down the air, you scrambled over, brushing back your messy locks, panting just a little in hopes to attain your composure again.

With a trembling hand, you clasp the cold knob and pull it.

Soft pools of brown, messy dark hair, a tall frame covered in loose, athletic clothing: could it be?

“Hey, babe.”

Oh, how velvety his voice was. How much you missed that.

Your mouth hung open a moment as you drank in the sight of Asahi standing at the entrance. He took a minute to observe you too; the dark circles beneath your eyes, the hollows of your cheeks revealing your lack of nutrition and sleep, your back, curved as if the weight of the world pushed against your shoulders.

With a slight frown, he placed a large, calloused and heated palm against your cheek. Your heart jumped, but this time, a warm delight spread across your chest.

“I’ve missed you,” he muttered. “You look so tired.”

The chains locking the door snapped open. Without a second to even think, tears poured from your red eyes, and you threw your arms around his strong neck.

“I am,” you cried against his shoulder. “Fuck, I’ve missed you so damn much.”

He blinked adjusting to the shock of your actions. Then, he settled into you, stroking the back of your head.

“Then, why did you disappear like that?” disappointment and sadness riddled his voice, but you detected no sense of hostility.

“I’m sorry,” you whimpered, rubbing your face in his white shirt. “I’m so, so, so sorry. I have been so stressed out. I just didn’t want to wear you out. I was afraid you’d get annoyed with me or tired of me or-”

“Hush,” he whispered against your hair before pressing a kiss into your head. “I know how you feel, but I’m your boyfriend. You can say whatever you want to me. I won’t mind.”

You sighed and managed to drown back the tears in his scent and his love. Nestling into his embrace, you muttered,

“Thank you...”

He was always in your head since day one. He was your healing and your foundation, despite his own weaknesses.

And only he possessed the power to ease your troubles away.

Description
(www.youtube.com/watch?v=Js16_Q… Please listen while you read!)

Thump...thump...thump...

Despite the calming music filling the room, the artificial sounds emanating from your sound machine, all you perceived was the pounding of your own heart. Peeling aches coursed from the top of your head down into the base of your neck. Your spine cried out from the pressure of your horrid posture, constantly hunching over a book or a laptop. Piles of notecards scattered about your room. Pieces of paper both used and discarded were strewn about the floor.

Every inch was covered with your efforts and struggles.

This paper, this thesis, was more than just a simple piece of homework. Your future resided in this work. This would either set you with the college you so dreamed of or completely derail it. You spent every hour of every day since the beginning of the semester slaving on what you hoped would become a masterpiece.

And the work was taking its toll on you.

Rarely did you sleep. In fact, you couldn’t even remember the last time you slept in your bed, as you just as easily passed out for a couple of hours on the couch, your chair or even the floor.

But, the anxiety.

Oh, the anxiety.

That horrid feeling of terror and dread, the pounding of your heart, sweating, your stomach literally in knots, your lungs constantly begging for air, dizziness, tension hit you like a ton of bricks. You would have gladly traded in all the muscle aches in the world if it meant ridding yourself of these ghastly sensations.

But, you embraced it now. Everything you attempted, every remedy you utilized never eased the pain.

And you would live with it until you were finished.

With a harsh sigh, you stood up and stretched your limbs, listening to the occasional crack and pop.

“Ugh, disgusting,” you grumbled, shuffling over to your desk.

“Beep!” went your phone as soon as you switched it on.

“What? 15 new texts?”

Your thumb swiped over the keypad. Then, you entered the inbox.

They all came from the same person: your boyfriend, Asahi Azumane.

Your already pounding heart raced even faster, causing sweat to dabble your forehead.

“Hey, babe. Wishing you luck on your paper.”

“Hey, babe. Thinking about you.”

“I miss you.”

“When will you be free?”

“Hey, I haven’t heard from you yet.”

Tears brimmed at the corners of your eyes.

“Babe, are you okay? I’m worried about you.”

“Are you home, baby? Can I come visit?”

“Fuck!” you hissed and slapped a hand to your forehead. “He’s probably so pissed!”

Yet, you continued through the messages, until the notifications disappeared. Unable to take it anymore, you pushed aside your phone and rubbed your face. You two had only been dating a month and a half before you started working on your thesis. You were at least calling and texting everyday. But, as time progressed, and as your anxiety piled on, you withdrew yourself more and more, until you finally stopped talking. You never doubted your affection for him.

In fact, it was just the opposite.

He was all you thought about.

When thoughts concerning your thesis released you, you thought of him. You wondered how he was. You worried about him. You hoped for his well being. You cried because you ached for him so.

Yet, too scared were you to confront him. Being tortured by this burden, the last thing you desired was to become a black hole to him, nothing more than an emotional vampire, complaining about your struggles and worries when he suffered from his own.

And so you withdrew from him, at least, until you could finally breathe easy.

After swallowing the tightening lump in your throat and wiping a tear from your ear, you rose from the couch and paced the room a bit. Your head reeled about so much so, it made you dizzy.

Was this the wrong choice? Was this straining your relationship with him? Was this making things worse? Was he angry with you? Would he break up with you? Would this make push him into the arms of another woman?

Over and over again, these voices screamed at you. Your heart raced faster and faster still. Cold sweat dripped down the contours of your face. Your breaths came in shallower and shallower, until you were almost certain you were about to fall apart.

Clutching the side of your head, you inhaled ready to scream.

Knock. Knock.

You froze.

Knock. Knock.

The...the front door?

Gulping down the air, you scrambled over, brushing back your messy locks, panting just a little in hopes to attain your composure again.

With a trembling hand, you clasp the cold knob and pull it.

Soft pools of brown, messy dark hair, a tall frame covered in loose, athletic clothing: could it be?

“Hey, babe.”

Oh, how velvety his voice was. How much you missed that.

Your mouth hung open a moment as you drank in the sight of Asahi standing at the entrance. He took a minute to observe you too; the dark circles beneath your eyes, the hollows of your cheeks revealing your lack of nutrition and sleep, your back, curved as if the weight of the world pushed against your shoulders.

With a slight frown, he placed a large, calloused and heated palm against your cheek. Your heart jumped, but this time, a warm delight spread across your chest.

“I’ve missed you,” he muttered. “You look so tired.”

The chains locking the door snapped open. Without a second to even think, tears poured from your red eyes, and you threw your arms around his strong neck.

“I am,” you cried against his shoulder. “Fuck, I’ve missed you so damn much.”

He blinked adjusting to the shock of your actions. Then, he settled into you, stroking the back of your head.

“Then, why did you disappear like that?” disappointment and sadness riddled his voice, but you detected no sense of hostility.

“I’m sorry,” you whimpered, rubbing your face in his white shirt. “I’m so, so, so sorry. I have been so stressed out. I just didn’t want to wear you out. I was afraid you’d get annoyed with me or tired of me or-”

“Hush,” he whispered against your hair before pressing a kiss into your head. “I know how you feel, but I’m your boyfriend. You can say whatever you want to me. I won’t mind.”

You sighed and managed to drown back the tears in his scent and his love. Nestling into his embrace, you muttered,

“Thank you...”

He was always in your head since day one. He was your healing and your foundation, despite his own weaknesses.

And only he possessed the power to ease your troubles away.