I sighed, kicking at the blankets that trapped my feet. Rich groaned next to me as he muttered curse words. He pulled the blankets closer to him and curled into a slumber.
"I can't fucking do this." I hissed, closing my laptop and sliding it onto the bed side table. Rolling off the bed, I padded out of the room, walking to the kitchen and grabbing some water.
The lingering deadline of a poem I had no desire to write hung over me. I knew the assignment was due regardless if snow inhibited the teaching of class, the professor made that very clear. What she didn't make clear is that it would be do by the start of class, precisely 9:10am. I didn't get that memo until almost midnight after Rich and I spent the day snowed in and wrapped up in each other. I sighed, placing the glass on the counter and pushing my hands into the cool tile.
I watched the dead still of night out the kitchen window. The moon illuminating every shadow and secret the night had to offer. I saw the perfectly smooth snow in our neighbor's yard compared to ours. It was destroyed from the footprints of Rich and I, our attempts at a snow man, and so many snow angels. It wasn't until I felt hands on my hips that I was pulled from the captivating scene.
"Staring out a window won't write your poem any faster." Rich whispered as his large arms wrapped around the front of my body. I sunk into his touch, holding onto his arms and resting my head on his shoulder.
"I know, but it's so peaceful out there."
"And my bed was peaceful too until a little miss decided to storm out of it."
"Sorry." I sighed, turning so I was pressed against his chest. I looked up, studying his face. He let the facial hair grow in and his hair was disheveled. The brown eyes I loved so much were laced with sleep.
"Take a picture, it'll last longer." he winked, leaning in to kiss me. When my reaction was too weak to his liking, he pulled away, running his hands up my arms.
"You gonna tell me what's wrong or am I gonna have to use booze or sex?" He half joked. I tried to smile, but instead tears leaked out of my eyes.
"God, Rich. I can't do this." I broke down in his arms.
His hold on me got stronger as I cried my way to a calm. With every hiccup and gasp for breath, he was there to lay a kiss on my forehead, or help me slide my way onto the floor so I could sit down. Rich leaned me against the cabinets, forcing my legs to cross Indian style. His longer legs were bent, standing on either side of me and blocking me in while he held my hands and promised the world.
"I don't want to write this fucking poem, go to class tomorrow, get that fucking degree that won't mean shit in 4 years anyways." I cried out. "I hate this life I forced myself into, Rich."
"Kid, damn it." He breathed out, using the pet name I hated.
"Rich," I whispered, calming myself down. "I just want to be enough, for you, me, my family, our-" I paused. "our family, one day."
"You are more than enough, love. I look at you everyday and wonder how in the hell did some prick like me get a queen like you. I have never met someone so determined and passionate about everything as you are."
"This is so stupid, it's because I don't want to write a damn poem." I laughed, tears threatening to fall again.
"What's it about? Why is it stressing you out to this point?" He asked.
I looked at the man in front of me. One who had been in more fights than books I read, who had lost teeth and came home to me bloodied and bruised. The same man who would bring me flowers because he felt like it, or would scream to Adele as we drove around. I looked at my rock, my world, my lover.
"It's about my dad, Rich. I don't want to right about him." I whispered.
"You, of all people, can write about him. You can do this, okay? Don't let that skeezeball take away from your potential." Rich said, pulling me into his arms. I held onto him for dear life, his shirt balled up in my fists.
"I love you, Rich. I love you so damn much."
"I tend to have that affect on people."

Notes

If this sucks, I'm sorry. I just had the idea an I wanted to make it with Rich Clune because um hello new obsession. It's short, I know, but I am currently in the position of having to force a poem out of myself to email to my professor and I'm panicking.

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