Haven by Claire Kent

Maybe Jackson would be different if he were in love. If he were in a relationship. Or if the world outside this room hadn’t fallen into violent chaos, hadn’t become a constant war we have no choice but to fight. Maybe he would take his time. Be softer. Gentler. Maybe he would smile or even laugh.
Maybe I would be different too.
Maybe I wouldn’t need his hungry eyes and demanding hands in the dark.
But this is how we are together every time.
He’s not my friend or my boyfriend, but sometimes I go to his room after the sun goes down. I need to. Not for sweet words or soft kisses but because his arms, like the flickering light of that one candle, are the only things that can hold back the night.