Pitbabe S2, Chapter 8 pg4

 Pitbabe S2, Chapter 8 pg4

   “I do. I believe you,” I said, trying to keep myself together, forcing my tears to stop while desperately wanting to comfort the fragile Babe. I wouldn’t claim to be an expert at this, because that might imply I’m the one who puts him in this state the most. “I love you too, Babe.”

   “Even when you love me, you still talk to me like this. I don’t even want to imagine what it’d be like if you ever hated me.”

   “That day will never come. How could I ever hate you?”

   “You’d find reasons to hate me easily. I’m not exactly a saint.”

   “Babe…” I could only sigh, at a loss for how to make him feel better, short of finding a way to go back in time and slap myself from a few minutes ago. “I don’t hate you. I love you to death.”

   “I’m hot-headed, I’m loud…”

   “I love you for being like this.”

   “Selfish, a liar too.”

   “Love.”

   “Not speaking nicely.”

   “Love.”

   “Always giving you a headache.”

   “Love you, Babe… I’m here today because of love, all of it.”

   Someone once said the word “love” loses its value if we say it too often. I don’t know if that’s true or not, but I’m not the type to hold back my feelings just to make them special. For me, the word “love” isn’t special at all—it’s ordinary, common, like “eat,” “sleep,” or “walk.” What makes it special is the person in front of me, the one I give this word to every day.

   “Sorry for not listening,” I said, rubbing his head and kissing his ear and cheek repeatedly, hoping it could make up for some of the hurt feelings. “When I found out it was Willy… I got mad.”

   “I don’t get why you hate Willy so much.”

   “I don’t hate him.”

   “Swear.”

   “I just don’t like him meddling with you, Babe.”

   “I bet in the next race, you’ll tail Willy like crazy.”

   “Tail him? Me?” I snorted, suddenly feeling like a villain instead of just Babe’s silly Charlie, as usual. “I’ll lead him. How could someone like me trail behind him?”

   “But you lost to him once…”

   “Just in qualifying,” I cut in as Babe brought up my moment of shame, even chuckling in my ear. “We fought that day. I wasn’t focused.”

   “Are you saying it’s my fault?” Babe pulled out of the hug, staring at me like he was ready to fight.

   “No, I meant me. I wasn’t professional enough.”

   “Exactly, because even when we fought that day, I still won.”

   “That’s cause you’re a pro, Babe.”

   “No need to flatter.”

   “If I don’t flatter my boyfriend, who else am I supposed to flatter?”

   Everything seemed to calm down. Babe stood still, letting me hug him and hugging me back. He buried his face in my shoulder, wiping his tears on my shirt without hesitation, which I didn’t mind because I knew those tears were because of me. If I didn’t take some responsibility, it would be too much.

   “Sorry for lying,” Babe suddenly said after we stood hugging in silence for a while. “I was just scared you’d get mad.”

   “It’s okay,” I responded to his apology sincerely. I had to admit that Babe’s lie made things worse, but I didn’t want to bring it up and cause another fight. As long as he insisted it was nothing, I’d believe it was nothing. “But next time, no more lying, okay? Because I’ll catch you anyway, and that’ll make me even angrier.”

   “Then stop using your sense on me.”

   “Does that mean you’re going to lie again, Babe?”

   “No, I just feel it’s not fair.”

   “Don’t worry about that,” I chuckled softly. “I’ve never used my sense to catch your lies, Babe.”

   “Huh?”

   “When I said I caught you, I really did. You’re terrible at lying, Babe. Every single time.”

   Babe’s mouth hung open, and it was surprising that he didn’t realize he was bad at lying. I thought it was pretty obvious. Babe is straightforward, doesn’t hide his feelings, and most importantly, he’s not someone who likes to lie. Honestly, Babe doesn’t care enough about others to bother lying. He doesn’t care how others see him. So, every time he lies, it’s always to someone he cares about. And because he cares so much, he worries about hurting them. That worry, reflected in his expression and eyes, is what makes Babe the worst liar.

   “But it’s good, you know. Not lying is the best.”

   “Easy for you to say. You’re a smooth liar.”

   “Not exactly something to be proud of.”

   “They say smart people are good at lying,” Babe pouted, seemingly sulking as he thought he wasn’t that smart. “You’re the clearest example of that.”

   “Where’d you get that from?”

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