Chapter 15

“The man I pretend to be
peeled back like skin.
What stayed
was the thing with teeth.
The thing that never forgets
what it feels like to tear.“

Nathan’s POV

“Come in,” I held out my hand and watched her perched at the edge of the pool, her hair tangled, my shirt consuming her sweet figure, her lips curved into the kind of carefree smile you don’t get to see twice. I watched her, and she watched me back like I was something worth staring at.

She whispered something about not wearing anything beneath my shirt, about not wanting to ruin it. She’s so cute, as if I gave a fuck about fabric when she was the only thing I wanted clinging to me.

“It doesn’t matter.” My palm stayed steady, waiting, always waiting for her. I seem to wait for her a lot, though I’d never waited for anyone before her.

She bit her lower lip, the softest hesitation flashing in her eyes, then slid her fingers into mine. I gave her no time and yanked her into the pool with me. I needed her to know that there shouldn’t be hesitation with me, only certainty.

The pool swallowed her scream, then gave it back to me as laughter, bubbling and breathless against my chest. She squirmed in my hold, pushing at me, “Nathan!” she gasped, but she wasn’t scared. She looked so happy, so light, floating just like I was.

I wrapped her tighter, pulled her closer.

“Got you,” I murmured, my mouth close to her ear, and for a moment, I forgot the world had teeth, forgot it had a grudge against me. For a heartbeat, I let myself believe that maybe drowning could feel like this, her warm arms locking around me, her pulse bleeding into mine, and her scent curling through me.

And that, in all its peacefulness…it terrified me.

I don’t do fear, I’ve never done fear, but somehow she’s teaching it to me, drip by drip, like poison she’s injecting into my veins.

This feeling, it terrified me more than anything, more than the new lung breathing for me in my chest, even more than my father’s voice still prowling the halls of my skull; it’s worse than this second chance at life I never asked for.

It terrified me, because I’ve never wanted to keep anything this badly.

For once since I’ve met her, I didn’t want to ruin her, or break her, or open her up from the inside out and watch how she bled. For the first time, I wanted to keep her, keep her intact, keep her with me…not forever, because I might never get that, but for as long as I can. I really did. Would she want that too?

Her eyes narrowed playfully, and I did what I knew best, I leaned in and kissed her beautiful mouth. I reminded her that despite all of this, I was the wolf in this story, and I will always be. I am not the victim, no, she was my victim.

It’s laughable, isn’t it?

Because what do you name it when the wolf would rather starve than see his red riding hood walk away? You see, the thing is, he doesn’t starve because he can’t hunt. The wolf starves because he refuses to eat the only prey he ever liked.

“And that would make you my red riding hood?” I asked her, tilting my head, testing if she’d surrender and step willingly into my jaws.

She shook her head, “More like the grandma. Because one of these days, you’re going to eat me alive.”

Her unexpected answer cracked something inside me. A genuine laugh tore up from my chest, spilling out of me like I was a little boy again. I tipped my head back and let it out. God, she was impossible. God, she was so fucking adorable.

I looked back at her, and for a split second, I let myself believe I was allowed to keep her. That the world could give me this one thing, just this one thing. I’ve never asked for more. I never would.

“Well then,” I murmured, “you’re the sexiest grandmother in existence.”

My fingers loosened around her waist because if I held on any longer, I might do something, “Now let’s swim,” I added, “before I end up fucking you underwater.”

With that, I fully broke contact and let go of her. She let out the faintest yelp at the loss of my hold, so I glanced back, my smile all playful and teasing, “What’s that? Scared of some water, princess?”

She shook her head, a silly defiance on her lips. “No. I’ve always loved swimming.”

At first, I believed her. I even turned, ready to put distance between us, to cool the fever before I dragged her to the bed and tore her apart again, but there was something…a shift in the air.

I might not feel fear the way normal people do, but I can smell it. I can taste it. It’s my favourite scent on a prey, the pulse before the kill, the quiver before the collapse. Usually, it feeds me, pleases me, but…but not now, because now, I felt it radiate off her in waves.

I paused for a second and watched her. She was floating there, trying to play it light, but there was a flicker in her eyes, a tightness in her shoulders, and then her breath clipped sharply. She looked around, her gaze drifting in loss, as if she was trapped and searching for something, an exit, maybe?

I stilled in the water, my previous smile dying on my lips as I watched her silently struggle with something I couldn’t see. Her throat bobbed, her chest heaved, up and down. She brought her hand to her neck, her fingers clawing at the skin, as if she were trying to remove something that wasn’t there. She pressed her eyes shut, and her breath grew more ragged, her energy shifted a hundred eighty, and I knew I must interfere.

“Aylin?” I said, my voice steady, but I wasn’t, as I cut through the water toward her. When I was near, my hand instantly reached for her arm, but she gasped like I’d burned her and tore herself from my grip.

What the hell…

She brought her other hand up, reaching for her neck again, her fingers and nails clawing at the skin, as if trying to pry away invisible hands from around her throat. The skin turned red, the bruises blooming.

My jaw locked, and I grabbed her wrist, prying her hand down hard. “Aylin, you are hurting yourself!” I shot out, reaching for her other hand, but instead of listening, instead of acknowledging me with a look, she thrashed, trying to wrench free.

“Leave me,” she grated out, her voice choked, raw, and I fucking understood nothing.

“Aylin, what happened?” I said, my grip on her hand growing tighter, scared she’d pull it back and hurt herself again. The redness on her neck grew bloodier, her nails breaking skin, a thin line of crimson rising to the surface.

She still refused to look at me, her gaze was around, on the water, on her hands in my grip. She groaned in pain, and her kicks grew uneven, frantic, as if the pool had turned into a rip current, trying to drag her under. “Leave me, let me go!” She snapped, breathless, angry, and frustrated.

With my tight grip on her arm, I yanked her in, her body crashing against my chest, water sloshing between us. “I won’t,” I rasped, her wrist locked in one hand, my other hand sliding to her face, fingers gripping her cheek, forcing her eyes up to mine.

“Hey…princess, look at me,” I said, my voice a tad softer, like maybe if I bent for once she’d hear me, and she’d come back from wherever the fuck she’d gone.

I tilted her head right, and her eyes fell into mine, but they were so different, it was almost like she was looking but not seeing me.

“What’s wrong?” I asked.

Her chest heaved again, brushing mine with every exhale and inhale, “I need to get out of here,” She murmured. Her eyes fell back on my tight grip on her hands. She groaned, a fiery little thing as she struggled away, and when she failed to break free, she moved her legs and fucking kicked me under the water.

My eyes widened, and my grip loosened just enough for her to push herself back. “I need to get out,” She repeated, not to me, but to herself, and before she’d manage to escape again, I pulled her back to me. “I’ll get you out if you just stay in one fucking place,” I grated, but she fought me harder, legs kicking, arms slapping, nails clawing.

With every pull, she pushed, and the water violently crashed between us, “Ayli…Aylin, stay put for god’s sake!” I snapped, not sure what to do, because I didn’t fucking understand any of this. She didn’t seem afraid of the water, no, she moved in it like she knew it too well. It was something else that’s chasing her, that she’s running from, a memory, maybe?

She managed to scratch my neck in her attempt to break free. Not gonna lie, it fucking burned. I realized being gentle won’t get me anywhere here, so I gripped her waist, hard, my fingers digging deep enough to bruise, my other hand snapping around her wrists like a cuff. I pinned her against me, containing her, refusing to let her tear herself apart.

She panted against my chest, her face red, her green eyes wild. The closest I’d seen her like this was when I revealed every little detail I knew about her life. But this wasn’t just fire, wasn’t fury…it was survival. She was fighting ghosts, not me, but she made me her battlefield anyway.

Her eyes fell on my neck, where I am sure she drew blood out with her nails, “I knew you liked it rough, princess,” I rasped, not an ounce of humor left in my voice, “but not like this.”

She looked at me, right at me, but fuck…it felt like she didn’t know me.

“I’ll get you out of here, but you need to stop fighting and pushing me away, okay?” I said, word by word, as if feeding them to her. God, it felt like I was speaking a foreign language, and trying to make her understand me, “I’ll let go of your wrists now, but you won’t fight me, deal?”

She kept looking at me, just breathing, in and out, silently. She didn’t give me an answer, so I took her silence as a yes.

Cautiously, I eased my hold on her wrists. She drew in a deep breath, and when she didn’t immediately lash out, I shifted my grip to her waist, pulling her with me through the water until the edge of the pool rose behind her. She let me move her around, fucking-finally, she let me.

I hauled her out first, then climbed after, dripping onto the deck. She pulled herself up, slowly and unsteadily, on her two feet. She shivered, her arms moving to wrap around herself, and her lower lip trembled against the cold. Her body shook slightly, her eyes still open, she was awake, but I was a hundred percent sure she was not here with me now.

I reached for the towel draped on the chair, never taking my eyes off her. Every move I made was slow and calculated, like she might snap again, slip back into that abyss I couldn’t follow. My fingers went to the buttons of my shirt on her body. Each one I undid, I watched her eyes, studied every flicker, waiting for the break.

My shirt clung to her, soaked through, and molded to her skin. I peeled it away gently, letting it fall heavy and wet at her feet. She flinched at the loss of it, at the coldness, but didn’t resist me or any of my touches. I quickly wrapped the towel around her shoulders, securing it across her chest, pulling it tight and pulling her closer.

I was drenched too, the water still trailing down my skin, but I didn’t give a fuck. All I cared about was getting her warm, getting her breathing steady. I reached for her hand, tugged softly to lead her inside, but she wouldn’t move. Her feet stayed rooted, her head turned toward the cliff, her eyes locked somewhere far away.

So I did what I always do when she resists, I took her choice.

I bent, swept her up into my arms, and felt the instant shift in her body language. She relaxed almost immediately, like her body recognized me even when her mind didn’t. Her lashes lowered, her cheek pressing against my chest as she snuggled closer and deeper into me, her breaths slowing as if my heart was the only rhythm she trusted. I was too worked up over her current state to enjoy that fact.

I carried her inside, dripping across the cabin floor, guiding her back to the bed. She felt smaller like this, breakable in a way I never wanted her to be. And in that moment, I realized, this was the crack I’d always seen in her, the darkness in her that pulled me in, the mess in her eyes that I thought I wanted to unravel. I used to believe I’d enjoy watching her fall apart, but seeing her like this?

I fucking hated it.

I lowered her onto the bed, meaning to pull away, but her fingers caught me, clutching my bicep as she tried to drag me back with a strength she didn’t have.

I looked at her face, and her eyes found mine, and fuck, she looked wrecked, half here, half somewhere else, but still wanting me near for some unknown reason. My lips curved because even lost in her own head, my princess still reached for me.

So I stayed.

I sank into the bed beside her. I edged my hand closer to her face and brushed the wet strands of hair from her face, my knuckles grazing the top of her cheek. “What just happened, Aylin?” I asked, my voice quieter than I meant it to be, like I was afraid the wrong tone would shatter her.

She didn’t answer. Her eyes drifted lower, to my mouth, my neck, before it landed on my chest. She moved her hand from my arm and reached for my chest. Her fingers fluttered, light as moth wings, tracing one old scar, then another, painting shapes with her fingertips only she could see.

Her lips parted, the words spilling out softly, brokenly, not to me but to the air between us, “No one believed me.”

I brushed her cheek, my thumb trailing to the corner of her mouth. I leaned closer until I could taste the tremor of her breath. “I believe you,” I whispered, meaning every word, “Tell me.”

She didn’t, she didn’t speak; instead, she kept tracing, her hand wandering to the biggest scar, the freshest one. Her fingers lingered there, soft against the place where I was sewn back to life. Then, slowly, painfully, her gaze lifted up to my face.

There it was, a flicker; I caught it. A glimmer of her, clawing her way back to me.

Our faces were too close, her breath brushing my lips, her chest heaving against mine. Her gaze fell to my mouth, her own parted on instinct, and then, unexpectedly, she lifted her head a fraction and pressed her lips to my own.

God, I nearly whimpered. Her movements were so soft, so fragile, so vulnerable, it cracked something within my chest. My eyes fell shut, my body betraying me as I returned the kiss, just as tenderly.

Her hand slid from my chest to my neck, her fingers threading into the back of my hair, pulling me closer, deepening the kiss. Her mouth pressed harder, more certain, as if she needed to anchor herself in me the way I was already drowning in her.

I kissed her back, gently, desperately, letting her lead, letting her pull, letting her steal. For the first time, I wasn’t the wolf. For the first time, I was the prey, because I was ready to let her do to me whatever she pleased. I just wanted her back.

Her low whimper melted against my mouth, a sound that crawled under my skin and rooted itself in my bones. I kissed her deeper, slower, my lips drinking her, trying to erase what happened minutes and seconds ago. My hands slid down, mapping the curve of her neck, the fragile rise of her collarbone. I tugged the towel loose, brushing it aside until only her silky skin answered me.

She arched into me, a soft moan spilling free from her lips, every sound dragging me closer, closer, until I thought I might crawl inside her just to keep them for myself.  Her hand caught mine, and she guided it lower her body with a certainty that made my lips twist against hers in a smirk. My wicked little princess, always braver than she should be.

She let my hand reach between her legs and touch her where she burned. “Aylin,” I groaned against her lips, my fingers brushing her sensitive clit, before they sank deeper into warm, wet skin, and the sound she made nearly undid me. Every brush drew another cry, another tremor, her body pressing deeper and deeper into the mattress.

My lips trailed lower, tasting the salt of water on her skin, tracing fire down the line of her throat as my fingers moved inside her, in a rhythm I knew she loved. I knew the map of her body now. I’d memorized it, the places that made her shiver, the ones that made her cry out, the ones that made her fall apart in my hands. But her mind? That was still a locked door, a room barricaded against me. And fuck if I wouldn’t strip it open, tear it apart, until every secret she thought she could hide was laid bare.

She writhed beneath me as my fingers pulsated inside of her, filling her, pushing her to the edge of her pleasure. Her eyes closed shut, and her head tipped back, her hair spilling wild across the pillow, her lips parted, her cheeks flushed.

I couldn’t look away. God, I really couldn’t. She was my favorite thing in this world, watching her break apart like this was a high I’d never touched, not even when I chased death. She really made me fragile…fragile in ways I should’ve despised, and yet I let her, again and again, I let her drag me down, deeper and deeper into this abyss.

Her chest rose and fell in a frantic rhythm, her body trembling under my hand like I’d set her veins on fire. I bent, pressed my mouth to her jaw, the corner of her lips, whispering her name, watching her unravel for me.

And then…she shattered, so blissfully, such a beautiful, ruined sound that nearly wrecked me.

“Oh my god…” Her cry broke the air, broke me with it, but…but it wasn’t my name she gave, “…Chase.”

My hand froze.

My breath stilled…it hit a wall, and stopped.

For a heartbeat I couldn’t move, couldn’t think…

The air left me, there was no oxygen left, almost like she had pushed me under the water I just saved her from.

The blood rushed fast, so fucking fast to my head, so fast. I felt dizzy. I felt the hotness creep in and out of my skin. Blood hammered in my ears. My vision smudged at the edges, hot and bright and wrong. Something beneath my ribs started to unclench and claw outward, a raw animal with teeth I hadn’t fed.

I couldn’t fucking think, just stared down at the girl who had undone me, my princess, my prey, my ruin, the thing that made me stupid and soft, moaning another man’s name at the height of what I thought was us.

The image, the thought alone, unstitched me.

And for the first time in a while, I didn’t know if I wanted to kill him, or her.

The door in my chest, the one that hid something human behind, she slammed it shut with one single word. She broke its lock with one fucking syllable.

I stumbled backward, away from her, away, away, from the bed. I knew…I knew that I needed to get the fuck out of here, because I was sure, if I stayed, I’d wrap my fingers around her throat and press and press, until I stole not just his name from her throat, but even the air from her lungs.

If I stayed, I’d kill her.

I was sure I would.

For a second, I was every fucking monster I’d ever sworn I was. I tasted metal on my tongue. I felt the pull…kill her, kill her, just kill her, it kept roaring through me like a maw of red hunger. I wanted to snap her neck, to press down until his name could never live on her tongue again. The need was so sharp, I nearly obeyed it.

I needed to get out…out, out of here.

I turned around so fucking fast. I had spare clothes in the closet, I didn’t care to dry myself first, I quickly threw on a pair of pants and a t-shirt before I grabbed my phone, my keys, and stumbled out of the cabin. I opened the door to my car and got in. I didn’t think, I didn’t look back, I fought the voice in my head that wanted me to go back inside and fucking spill her blood. I silenced it and roared the engine and took the fuck away.

I brought her here to overwrite the ghosts this place held, but she painted me a new fucking one.

See, I knew, somewhere deep down, I knew I could not keep her. After all, I wasn’t allowed nice things to play with.

⊹˚₊‧───────────────‧₊˚⊹

“You sure everything’s okay?” Adam’s voice echoed from the phone, and I rolled my eyes. I hated it when he didn’t just obey and started asking twenty questions.

“Yeah, just do as I said,” I cut him off and killed the line. I immediately turned off my phone before he’d attempt to call, or worse, she’d wake up and call me. They say silence is a weapon, and well, I am using it. I shoved the phone into my pocket, leaned back against the seat, stared at nothing, but somehow saw everything.

I drove for hours, with no destination at first, aimless, just blacktop and noise, trying to outrun the voices in my head. Well, it didn’t work. It took me a while before I made up my mind and headed to the airport. Nothing good ever comes from this cursed country anyway.

I called Adam after I booked my ticket to the UK. I asked him to go to the cabin, make sure he’s there when she’s up and around. I told him to take her back to the hotel, or wherever the fuck she wanted to go, just not near me.

The captain’s voice echoed in the aircraft as the plane started to take off, and all that did was remind me of the fact that fucking Chase was a pilot too. The colorful ideas started to form in my head. Plotting for his next plane to crash wouldn’t be too ruthless, would it? It wouldn’t. Who’d miss him anyway? A lot of fucking people apparently…

Damn you Lilly, always the obstacle between me and my revenge plans.

The flight, though short, did nothing to ease my nerves. Worse. It got me more agitated, shifting in my seat, all of my nerves prickling. I tried not to think of her, but couldn’t help it. My mind kept slipping, drifting back, to her, in that pool, thrashing against me, terrified of…something. I wanted to find that something and kill it.

Great. Here I go thinking about her again. Fuck.

It just…it wasn’t what I expected. Lilly told me how she always felt something was off with Aylin. I did too. I always saw that crack in her eyes, a secret she’s hiding, maybe even from herself, but…Okay, okay, enough thinking of her. I shook my head, stopping myself from overanalyzing.

I pressed the back of my head against the seat, my eyes pressed shut, and I tried not to think, but only the image of her flashed behind my lids, the way she clawed at her neck, hurting herself. Instinctively, my hand reached my throat, my finger tracing the red line she left behind on my skin.

I couldn’t help but recall her bruised arm and her bruised ankle, my mind overcaluclating, overthinking…maybe that’s how she got them, too, maybe this happens to her often, she blacks out, in a way. I shook my head, fuck, why can’t I stop thinking about her?

When the plane landed and I was out of the airport, I got into the car and drove toward my destination without second-guessing. You see, my body runs on impulse when my head’s a mess. I had reached his block, parked the car, and was walking up to his door before I’d even decided to.

I rang the bell, and it took Christian all of ten seconds to answer. He opened the door, and his brows pulled tight when he saw me. “Nathan?”

“Hey.” I smiled, then shoved past him and into the flat like I owned the place.

“What the—” he mumbled, turning on his heel, still in shock at my sudden presence, watching me invade his space.

He shut the door and followed, still blinking. “When did you even get here?”

I glanced at him, “Just now.” I was already in his kitchen, opening cabinets like I lived there. “Got anything to drink?” Slam. Another door open. “Or smoke?” Slam. “Something really strong would be preferable.”

“Wha…” Christian paused in the doorway, his confused gaze flickering all over me as I casually and chaotically moved inside his kitchen, aimlessly opening and closing cabinets. “You didn’t tell me you’re coming?”

I threw him a look over my shoulder. “Yeah, well, you showed up unannounced at my door too,” I rummaged through his fridge, found nothing interesting, boring. I slammed it shut, “Consider this fair play.”

I went to the last cabinet on the side, opened it, and found two bottles inside. I pulled one out and scowled, “Wine?” I grumbled, turning my head and glaring at my friend, “What are you, a girl?”

He pinched the bridge of his nose, still trying to catch up with me. “You know I don’t drink much when I have work.”

I glared at him, “Useless.” I gurmbled and popped the cork anyway, poured a glass to the brim, and downed half in one go. I gagged. “Who the fuck likes wine, anyway?” I winced at the taste, “It’s just rotten grape juice in a fancy bottle.”

I glared back at the bottle. I’ll need at least ten of those if I want to really stop thinking of her. Maybe. Probably not.

I left the half-filled glass on the counter, red drops splashing across the clean surface. Christian sighed like I had just pushed all of his buttons. He stepped in, closed the bottle, stashed it away, and wiped the mess with a cloth. He was always a neat freak. I don’t know how I became friends with him. I was chaotic in every sense; he wasn’t.

When he was done, he turned to look at me, his eyes questioning my current state, “What happened?”

I shrugged and moved. I needed to keep moving. I walked out of the kitchen and into the living room. “Why do you figure something happened?” I reached his bookcase and went through the books stashed in there, all arranged in boring order. I picked up one, opened it up, closed it, and carelessly stashed it back. I picked up another, then another—history, philosophy, business…ugh, so boring.

My eyes snagged one of his miniature figures on the shelf. There was a tiny motorbike, a long-nosed ponichio, and a grim little Batman. I fished Batman off the shelf and played with his arm until it snapped. The sound was a small, delicious little crack. I smiled; the sound was stupidly satisfying.

Christian grumbled something before I heard his angry footsteps get closer.

He shoved me away, “Will you stop messing with my things?” he grumbled, arranging the books back in their boring order, before he fixed the action figures, but poor Batman, he had one arm left to fight crimes. Gotham’s fucked.

I let out a bored sigh and wandered around. I needed to keep my hands busy because my mind was a rabid thing that had to be outrun. “Nathan, seriously…what’s wrong?” Christian pressed.

“Nothing.” I let the lie hang heavy and then reached for his phone on the counter. My thumb brushed the screen, unlocking it and ready to go through his messages, maybe text Lilly a love letter. Christian cursed and snagged it back mid–swipe. “You only get this hyperactive if something’s happened,” he said, eyes narrowing with that exasperated patience he reserves for me. “I know you.”

He did know me, maybe that’s why, out of all the places, I came here.

“Tell me, what’s wrong?” He added, and I’d be blind to ignore that bit of worry that flashed in his eyes.

I looked at him long enough, probably too long, and then, ridiculous as it was, the light-bulb in my skull flared. “You know what? I could use your help in this,” I smiled, “Will you do me a favor?”

He blinked, more confused than ever, “Yeah, sure?”

“Would you hop on the next train to France and, you know, kiss Lilly in front of Chase?”

He flashed me an incredulous look, “And why exactly would I do that?”

“To annoy him.” I shrugged, pacing back and forth because if my body stopped moving, my head would explode and implode. “Or you could help me kill him. Don’t you hate him like I do?” I added, “You know, I was thinking maybe we could arrange for his next flight out to crash, I mean, that would be the least harmful option, right?” I added, my brain was throbbing, not just my head, no, I could feel my brain cells hurt, “I mean, it would look like an accident, so I won’t have to justify to everyone why I killed him—”

“Nathan—”

“I am not done yet, listen to me, then you can sweep into Lilly’s life again, and—” I tried to keep on talking because if I stopped, my brain would hurt me more, and Christian would figure out exactly what happened.

He sucked in a deep breath and crossed his arms over his chest. “So,” His brow arched, “This is about that girl you’re seeing,” he stated. This fucker, I knew he’d figure it out.

“Which girl?” I said, my voice neutral.

“Chase’s ex-girlfriend,” he pointed it out, on purpose, trying to trigger me.

My jaw ticked, and the urge to get back on that plane, go to that cabin, and kill her intensified.

I shut my eyes, my temple throbbing. “Look, my head hurts,” I muttered, opening my eyes and glaring at him. “So, unless you want me to unload every ounce of this anger on you, you won’t mention her again. Capiche?”

He let out a resigned sigh, as if dealing with me was so exhausting. He was the exhausting one.

I looked around, “You know what, maybe…maybe if I write, it’ll help,” I drifted back toward his shelves, pawing through his things, feeling his blood pressure spike from across the room. “Aren’t you a professor? Don’t you have papers and pens? What the hell—oh, found it,” I pulled out a notebook and a pen before I slumped onto the couch.

Christian huffed out loudly before he moved behind me, crouching to collect the avalanche I’d knocked off, some student exams, books, and whatnot. He stacked everything back into place, each gesture a prayer to order.

I tilted my head at him. “You’re such a freak. How did we even become friends?”

He slanted me a look. “Beats me,” he grated out, then his eyebrow raised, “But yeah, right, how could I forget, you looked for me, found me, and clingy you forced me to become your friend.”

I rolled my eyes, “Shut up,” I shot out before I looked down at the empty page and pressed the pen’s tip to the whiteness. Sometimes that worked, to let the metaphors dance on paper, sometimes that silenced the loud voices in my brain.

My gaze bore into the emptiness of the sheet, needing the ink to bleed, but…no words came out. Fuck. I stared until my vision blurred. Nothing came. Just the roar inside me, the poison in my veins, pressing harder.

Christian lowered himself beside me. He didn’t say anything at first, he just sat there, watching me lose to the chaos I thought I could control.

I tipped my head back against the cushion, my eyes closing. “It’s not working.”

The crash hit me hard. Every muscle felt heavy, my body sinking, the fever of movement burning out. My chest ached like I’d run for miles and gotten nowhere. Christian reached, gently prying the notebook and pen from my hands. He set them aside, then slung his arm around my shoulder, tugging me closer to him. His hand cupped the side of my neck as my head dropped against his shoulder, needing some of his calmness to balance me out.

“My brain hurts,” I mumbled.

“I know.” His voice was quiet, “Try to sleep. It usually helps you cool down.”

I hummed and nodded, keeping my eyes closed, hoping I could outrun this like I used to.

“Christian?” I mumbled.

“Yeah?”

“Thanks.” The word felt small, but it was all I had. “You always pull me out of this. You know how I get when I’m angry.”

He exhaled, “No, Nathan, you don’t get like this when you’re angry,” He said. Then he bumped the side of his head against mine, playful and soft in a way only he could get away with. “You get like this when you’re in pain,” He let out a low breath and added, “You only get like this when you’ve been hurt.”

⊹˚₊‧───────────────‧₊˚⊹

One week later…

Aylin’s POV

The week sped past like a blur, yet every single hour scraped against my fraying sanity. Work devoured most of my time, the long shifts, endless schedules, flights blurring into one another, yet even when exhaustion should’ve numbed me, my mind kept circling back to that day in the cabin.

The day I woke up alone.

The hours I’d lost, the ones that slipped straight out of my memory, haunted me like missing pages in a book. I tried to stitch them together, to make sense of them, but every attempt only tore me further open. It was like standing on the edge of a black hole, wondering what version of myself had been swallowed inside.

It was a sickness, so very painful. A slow acid that was eating me from the inside out. I was losing my mind, trying to understand, to remember, to comprehend what was happening. If I’d lost those hours, what else had I lost without noticing? How often was this happening? How much of myself had already slipped away?

I called him. God, I called Nathan that day more times than I can count. His phone was off, he was off the grid, unreachable. I tried again the next day, and the next, but got nothing. I haven’t seen him since, not once. It was not like him to disappear like this. I couldn’t understand what happened, why he left, why he wouldn’t pick up, why he was avoiding me…

Did I do something? What did I do?

Today, it’s the weekend, finally. I was back home from my endless flights. My body was bone-tired, my mind bruised, but I couldn’t keep circling like this. I needed answers.

I couldn’t live not knowing why.

That’s how I ended up at his house, knocking on his door, once, twice, and again. The sound kept echoing back at me with no answer. His car wasn’t in the driveway, but sometimes he kept it in the garage. I couldn’t tell if he was inside or not, and I was in too much pain to leave.

So I sat down on the porch, cold concrete against my palms, waiting for him to show up. I folded my arms against myself, the ache sitting heavy in my chest, and I tried to breathe.

Minutes slipped by, dissolved into an hour, then two. I stayed rooted there, too drained to move, too stubborn to let go. My limbs ached, my body refusing to rise even as my mind whispered I should.

Then a wet drop landed on my cheek. I blinked up at the sky, watching as the grey clouds pressed close, crowding together, then another drop fell, and another. It felt fitting.

I closed my eyes as the rain thickened, soaking into me, cold fingers against my skin. The first rain of the season, announcing the end of the summer and the beginning of fall.

I let the rain fall over me, dripping down my lashes, tangling in my hair, sliding over my lips, and that’s when I heard it, the low growl of an engine, the sweep of headlights cutting across the wet driveway. My body jolted upright, the ache in my limbs forgotten as his car rolled in.

I pushed myself up from the porch, unsteady, unbalanced, my palms slipping against the damp concrete. My heart slammed against my ribs as the car door opened.

Nathan stepped out, his broad frame cutting sharply against the falling rain. He closed the door, locked the car, then he turned around, and that’s when he halted to a sudden stop, that’s when he froze.

His gaze locked on mine, unmoving. His eyes traced over my face, flickering down, lingering on my rain-soaked hair, the drops sliding across my skin, as if he couldn’t decide if I was real or some ghost conjured up by him.

His hair got damp the longer he stood there, the drops falling over from his forehead, to his nose, down to his lips. His face was unreadable, and I thought if I saw him, I’d remember…that maybe it would all come back to me, but it didn’t.

God, I couldn’t breathe. Why?

He stood still for a long stretch of silence, the air between us strung tight, rain filling in the words neither of us could speak. My chest burned with everything I wanted to ask, but my lips refused to part.

That’s when his jaw ticked, the smallest shift breaking the stillness of his face. Then he moved toward me, step by step, slowly, calculated.

When his eyes finally met mine again, they were flat, unreadable, and harsh.

Then, came his voice, rough and sharp and cold, “What are you doing here?”

⊹˚₊‧───────────────────‧₊˚⊹

Author’s Note:

I hope you liked the chapter, please do vote and comment.

Aylin and Nathan are both messed-up in the head, which is why I think they work out so well xD

See ya soon 😉

Love ya ❤️‍🩹