Chapter 47

“I survived what was done to me.
I buried it.
I let it live.
But if the world ever touches her,
I won’t let it survive me.“

Nathan’s POV

I shouldn’t have told her.

I shouldn’t have said a word. I should’ve kept it buried where it belonged, six feet under, rotting, nameless, untouched.

But I didn’t. I split myself open and handed her the worst part of me.

What is this…regret, maybe? No, it feels worse than that. It feels like I peeled my own skin open, and now the air is too sharp, too cold, cutting into something that was never meant to be exposed.

I don’t feel better.

I feel like him, that…little kid, the one I buried, the one I turned into something else just to survive, something useful because he was a liability.

The memory was crawling under my skin again, breathing through me, dragging every second with it like it never ended.

I hate it.

I fucking hate it.

I was so caught up in it, the bitter taste of it, the way it sat too real on my tongue, too close to my heart, too alive, that I didn’t even notice Aylin at first.

Her hand was still in mine, too still, her fingers…they stopped moving, not a squeeze or a twitch, no instinct to hold on or pull away. Just resting there like she forgot what to do with them.

Then, I watched it happen in real time.

The way her pupils flickered, like something was rearranging behind them. The way her lips parted, not to speak, but as if the simple act of breathing suddenly required effort. The way her chest rose heavier, trying to inhale too much of me at once.

Silent tears slipped down her cheeks, furiously.

I don’t know when they started. There were just too many of them, falling, scrolling, chasing each other down her skin. A few gathered at the curve of her lips, hung there, trembled, then…fell.

My hand twitched.

I wanted to—

Fuck.

I wanted to brush them, kiss them away, erase them like I erase everything else.

Her fingers tightened over my hand suddenly, and her breath hitched once…before it broke. A sound tore out of her, a breathless gasp or a whimper, something that cut her throat on the way out, and then…she crashed into me.

It came out of nowhere.

Too fast.

So desperate.

Her body slammed against mine, the force of it knocking me back into the cushion as she climbed into my lap. She felt so much smaller, folded in on herself, as if the world had suddenly grown too big and she didn’t fit in it anymore.

Her hands grabbed onto the back of my hoodie, fisting the fabric so tightly it wrinkled under her grip, dragging me closer and closer, as if she needed me inside her lungs just to breathe.

Her face buried into my shoulder, into the crook of my neck, her tears soaking into my skin, “You were…you were only eleven,” She whispered it, in realization, like that number alone held the weight of everything.

My hand hovered near her, suspended in the air, my limbs lagging before they wrapped around her, “Aylin—”

Her fingers tangled into my hair, gripping, holding me in place, or holding onto me so she wouldn’t fall apart completely. “You were a child,” she whispered, and that wasn’t just sadness in her voice.

It was rage wrapped in grief.

“I’m not anymore,” I said.

She pulled back just enough to look at me. Her fingers slid from my hair, down my neck, then settled on my face like if she let go, I’d disappear back into whatever darkness I came from.

Her face was so close, so red from her tears, wet, wrecked. Her eyes…fuck, more broken than when she disappears into her own memories.

Because this time?

She was breaking for me. I didn’t want that.

“I’m—” her voice cracked, “I’m so sorry.”

I shook my head immediately.

No.

No, no, no.

That was not hers to carry.

My hand came up, wiping at the tears that kept coming back faster than I could erase them, “It’s nothing—”

She nodded, “It is,” she whispered, breath shaking, “it is, Nathan, it is—oh my god—” She shook her head, “I had no idea, I didn’t…I didn’t know, I am so sorry,” her grip on my face tightened, “you shouldn’t have…you shouldn’t have had to survive that, you were, you were just—”

She couldn’t even say it again, the word itself too cruel.

“I’m so sorry,” she repeated, apologizing for something she couldn’t fix, something she couldn’t reach, “I shouldn’t have asked, I shouldn’t have forced you to tell me anything, I shouldn’t have made you remember and relive that, I shouldn’t have—God, I’m so sorry—”

I cupped her face, forcing her to stay still, to stay present, because she was slipping, unraveling right in front of me.

“Aylin, please…” I whispered, not sure what I was asking for.

For her to stop?

For her not to feel it this much?

For her not to look at me like that?

She shook her head, “I should be strong for you, I know I should, I know I should, but I can’t, I can’t…I wish I were strong enough for you, strong like you, I wish I could just—”

Her chest rose, fell…hard, her eyes darkening, her jaw clenching, “I wish I could kill them all, I want to kill them all, everyone that ever hurt you, I want them gone, I want them dead, and if they are already dead, I want them back so we can kill them all over again, every single one of them, anyone who ever touched you, anyone who ever thought they had the right—”

Her breath hitched violently.

Her fingers dug into the collar of my hoodie so hard the fabric stretched under her grip.

“For all of this,” she whispered, her voice cracking, breaking open again as her hand slid from my collar to my chest, pressing there, like she could feel every scar buried under my skin, “for everything they did to you, for every scar they left on you…”

“I want to rip them apart.”

Her jaw clenched tightly, and her eyes burned. That green of hers, it didn’t look soft anymore. It looked like a forest being ripped out by its roots, torn apart, wild and unforgiving.

“I hate them, I hate them so much, I hate everyone that had a hand in you getting hurt. I hate your father, and I hate Natalie, and I hate Nikolas because they weren’t there to protect you…”

Her words tangled, dissolved into breathless, shattered sounds.

“I wish I was there,” she cried, the words breaking into hiccups, her breath catching on every syllable, her eyes squeezing shut as her forehead dropped against mine, “I wish I could’ve stopped it, I wish I could’ve taken it from you, I wish—”

She choked on the words.

“I wish it was me instead—”

“No.”

I shot out loudly, the word ripping out of me.

The numbness, that dead quiet that had wrapped around me since I dragged that memory back to life, shattered.

Something else took its place.

Something so fucking ugly.

“No, fuck, Aylin—don’t, don’t you ever say that!” I snapped, my hands tightening on her face, firm enough to stop her from even thinking it again.

My thumb dragged over her wet cheeks, catching tears I couldn’t keep up with. “When I even had the slightest thought that something like that might’ve happened to you, I nearly fucking lost it.”

That thought?

It didn’t sit.

It didn’t exist.

It mutated…turned into something violent, something starving, something that crawled up my spine and sank its teeth into whatever part of me still felt human.

Something catastrophic.

If it had turned out to be true, I wouldn’t have left anything standing. I would’ve drowned the darkness in its own bloodstain.

I would’ve taken the world apart at its seams, peeled it open layer by layer until it gave me everything, every face, every breath, every second they thought they could exist after her.

I would’ve buried the devils before they found her, choked the shadows before they touched her skin, snapped the spine of anything that even thought her name wrong.

For her, I wanted to be the thing that ruins everything…so nothing ever ruins her.

In this moment, in this exact moment, it hit me.

It sank in like a blade I didn’t see coming.

I realized…I wouldn’t have done any of that for myself. I didn’t. I survived what was done to me. Buried it. Turned it into something I could live with.

But for her, for a what-if scenario? I was ready to end the world. The rage that consumed me at the thought of something happening to her, it burned brighter, louder, and more violently than anything I ever felt for what actually happened to me.

Fuck.

Fuckkk.

I could deny it, run from it, pretend it wasn’t there, but fuck it, I love her so much. I was so deeply in love with her, it was going to be my end, my ruin, and death.

Nothing good could ever come from a feeling this intense.

She sniffled, her small body trembling in my hold, her red, tear-filled eyes looking into mine like she wanted to avenge me, protect me, end this world for me too. “I can’t stand this, I can’t stand knowing you went through that alone, I can’t, Nathan. It’s killing me.”

Her hand came up, brushing through my hair, then down to my cheek, under my eyes, like she was searching for something that should be there.

Something broken.

Something undone.

Her gaze followed every movement, memorizing, grieving, feeling it in a way I never allowed myself to. I brought my hand to hers, wrapping her trembling fingers in mine, and brought them to my lips.

“It was a long time ago, Aylin,” I mumbled against her skin, “I don’t think about it anymore. I don’t care for it. It didn’t fully shape who I am today, but it had something to do with it…maybe it was something I had to go through, to learn that I could defend myself, that I could hurt people back if they hurt me.”

I never asked why it happened.

Never asked what it did to me.

Never cared enough to trace the damage, to see where it started and where it ended.

“I only cared about one thing, that it never happened again, that no one ever got close enough to try, that I learned how to hurt back,” I added.

She shook her head, like she was physically rejecting every word I said, like they tasted wrong in her mouth just hearing them.

Her gaze dropped to my neck, to the collar of my shirt, her fingers twitching over the fabric, her lashes heavy with tears she kept trying to blink away, sniffling brokenly every now and then.

My jaw ticked, my grip on her waist tightening just slightly, “Aylin, I don’t want you to pity me—”

Her head snapped up immediately, her eyes widening, and she shook her head, “What I am feeling is not pity, Nathan, it feels…it feels like my heart is breaking apart,” She pressed her hand to her chest, “It’s burning in here. I feel like I want to scream at the world, I feel this…rage, this urge that I’ve never felt before.”

Her fingers curled into her shirt, gripping the fabric like she could tear through it and rip the feeling out, “I feel helpless and powerless that I can’t do anything…I feel so weak that I keep crying, breaking down, and you’re calming me down when it should be the other way around, when—”

She squeezed her eyes shut, shaking her head like she was trying to shut it all off, “I am sorry, I am trying to get it together, but…I am sorry.”

I slid my hand up to her neck, my fingers curling there, guiding her closer to me.

She folded into me instantly, breath leaving her in a soft rush as she folded into my chest. Her body curled into mine, her arms wrapping around my waist, gripping the fabric at my back. She hugged me tightly, too tightly.

My hand moved slowly over her back, gently caressed the back of her neck, and cradled her head.

A couple of minutes passed in complete silence. I had no words to say, and she was trying to gather herself together, so I let her.

She edged back slightly, but her body didn’t fully leave mine. She looked at my face. Her tears had stopped, but her eyes were still shattered.

“Did you ever tell anyone?” she asked softly.

I shook my head, “This is the first time I said it out loud,” I mumbled, “Christian…knows, not because I talked about it, but he was the only one who saw the state I was in when I went back home.”

She gazed into my eyes, her chest rising and falling as she breathed. Her hand kept coming back to my face, my cheek, my hair, again and again, light, almost hesitant, like she needed to confirm I was still here.

“Are you mad at me?”

My brows pulled together, and I shook my head, “No, why would I be?”

“Because I made you talk about it,” She mumbled in shame, wishing she hadn’t pushed me.

I tucked her hair behind her ear and shook my head, “I told you, it happened a long time ago, it doesn’t matter anymore.”

“Don’t reduce it to something so little, Nathan. It is not little, not by a long shot,” She shook her head, “I do that too. I shrink things, I bury them, I pretend they’re smaller than they are so I can breathe around them.”

She smoothed the still-damp strands of my hair back, “But it doesn’t make them go away. It just…waits, and then it catches up to you when you least expect it. I don’t want that to happen to you.”

My jaw tightened at the truth behind every word, and she gently massaged the muscle, brushing her thumb over it, easing the tension.

“I promise I’ll never bring it up again, but if you feel like there is something else you want to say, something you never got to say out loud,” her voice was so low, like a soothing melody, her gentle caresses over my face almost had me sagging into the cushion, “You can tell me.”

I gazed down at her, at her wet lashes, red-rimmed eyes, and her head now resting near my shoulder, looking up at me.

There was too much in her gaze.

Too much feeling.

Too much depth.

It burned.

Matched something in my chest, I just learned its name.

I didn’t realize I was speaking till I heard myself.

“I got kidnapped a couple of times after that one, but they just physically hurt me, nothing more,” I muttered, “I recently learned that all of those kidnappings were my father’s doing, or rather…plan. To roughen me up, strengthen me, and turn me into something useful.”

My jaw tightened. “He manipulated everything back then, and I used to think Nikolas was the one behind it.”

Her brows pulled together, “But…wasn’t he dead?” she asked softly. “How did he arrange all of that?”

A humorless breath slipped out of me, “That’s the thing about Isaac,” I murmured. “Even dead, he still wanted to win. He planned everything to the last detail.”

A house of cards he built with precision, and all he had to do was flick the right card, and the whole thing would come tumbling down.

Her jaw tightened as she absorbed every word, the rageful fury darkening her eyes once again. I brushed my hand at the top of her cheek, grounding myself with her touch, her scent, her mere presence.

“The thing that I never asked out loud, didn’t even let myself think it all the way through,” I muttered, my stomach tumbling uncomfortably, “Did he…did he arrange for…that too?”

The words tasted like poison, something I’ve been carrying without looking at, finally turning its head toward me.

I shrugged helplessly, “Too bad he is dead, and I will never get an answer for that.”

Maybe that’s the worst part, not the not knowing…the never.

She lifted her head from over my shoulder, her hand dropping from my face, hovering near my collarbone, “What do you think the answer to that is?”

Her question triggered more memories, and images flickered in my head.

Quiet ones.

Soft ones.

Peaceful ones, the kind that didn’t belong next to the memory I’ve unearthed.

“I know that…he cared about me, loved me, I know he did, it couldn’t have been an act, the way he treated me, took care of me, stayed awake nursing me when my sickness got too much…that man would’ve never planned for something like this, he wouldn’t put me in that type of pain…”

My throat got clogged up by something I had no name for.

“I think…I think he just entrusted me with the wrong people,” I shook my head, “He wouldn’t have planned for that…there is no way.”

Aylin’s eyes became glassy again, her expression turning broken, and she nodded before she brushed her hand beneath my eye…brushing away the single tear that slipped by without me noticing it.

“Then there it is, that’s your answer,” she whispered.

She urged me to cling to that version of the answer, to the thin, fragile line between him being a heartless monster and him being something I could still recognize.

Because if I let it slip, if I let myself believe the other possibility, it wouldn’t just haunt me.

It would unmake me.

I nodded my head and echoed back, “That’s my answer.”

⊹˚₊‧────────────‧₊˚⊹

I grasped the wooden rails of the porch, my fingers curling tight around them, my body leaning forward like I could force the air back into myself if I angled it right. My eyelids fell shut, shutting everything out as I tried to drag oxygen back into my lungs.

I’ve been feeling rather…breathless since…well, since my mind did a little trip down memory lane.

We stayed on that couch for far too long, Aylin in my arms, curled into me, clinging to me, mostly silent. We said a few words here and there, but never brought the topic back up again, and to that, I was grateful. I had to get rid of my body and mind of those remnants soon.

I needed to strip it out of my system before it rooted itself deeper than it already had.

My jaw tightened, and my grip on the wood followed. “Come on, lung, do your fucking job,” I grumbled under my breath, urging the useless organ to breathe, “Come on.”

I inhaled sharply, but it caught halfway, something inside me resisting it.

I forced it again, deeper this time.

I could feel the restless energy pumping through my veins, the all-too-familiar bursts, scratching at my nerves, ready to tear through and make me do something reckless. I hated it when it happened, hated it when I lost control over my body.

It climbed up my spine, settled behind my ribs, coiled tight, waiting.

Violence usually worked. It burned it out, drained it, but violence wasn’t exactly an option right now.

I needed—

“Nathan?” Aylin’s whispered word had me turn around, watching as she stepped outside, hugging herself against the cold.

“Yeah?”

“Everything okay?” She mumbled, coming to a stop next to me, her worried eyes going around, then back to me, probably addressing how I snuck out here when she was in the bathroom.

I gazed at her for a long second and figured out another way to let go of this restless energy.

“Do you wanna come with me?”

Her brows pulled closer, “Uh…yeah, but to where?”

I liked that she agreed first, then asked where.

I shrugged, “Just to have some fresh air.”

“Freezing cold air? Yeah, sure,” She muttered playfully.

My lips twitched, “Inside, in the closet near the door, there is a big brown bag, bring it and come to the garage,” I said, already turning around. She flashed me a clueless look, but nodded her head nevertheless and walked back inside.

I pushed into the garage, flicked the lights on, and walked straight to my motorcycle. I ran a hand over it, checking it out of habit. Oh, it’s been a while.

I tapped the handlebars lightly. “Miss me?” I muttered under my breath.

When Aylin joined me, she dropped the bag to the ground, her eyes warily drifting around before landing on my bike, and she visibly recoiled.

“We are going with your…car, right?” She muttered, hopeful.

I shook my head, “Nope, I’ve been ignoring this baby for far too long,” I said, patting the seat, “Need to take her for a walk.”

Aylin frowned, “It.”

“What?”

“It’s an it, not a her,” She corrected me, her eyebrow raising, “and definitely not a…baby.”

My brows pulled together as I stared at her for a second. When it clicked, I couldn’t hold back my chuckle. I threw my head back, and a low laugh slipped out of me. Oh fuck, that felt good.

“You’re not jealous of my bike, are you?” I asked, still grinning as I looked at her.

She flashed me a flat look and crossed her arms over her chest, “No.”

I turned back to my bike, brushing off invisible dust, “Baby number two, my baby number one is kind of jealous of you, so you need to show her a good time tonight.”

Aylin scoffed. “Unbelievable,” she muttered, stepping closer, her shoes echoing lightly against the concrete. “Stop calling it a baby. It’s literally just metal.”

“Shush,” I mumbled, shooting her a dignified look as I reached forward and covered the handlebars, like I was covering the bike’s ears. “She’s sensitive and has more personality than most people I know, like—I don’t know—someone named Chase.”

Aylin huffed out loud, throwing her hands in the air in frustration.

“I’m sure she does,” she narrowed her eyes at me, “Can she also talk back and annoy you?”

“Tragically, no,” I tsked, then smiled, “which is why I still keep you around.”

Her mouth fell open slightly, then she shoved at my arm. I chuckled again and threw her a wink, trying to fall back into the version of myself I preferred.

She shook her head, muttering something under her breath before kicking the bag lightly toward me. “What’s in there, anyway?”

I bent down, unzipping it, and pulled out the leather bike jacket I’ve gotten her. It was black and had pink and white stripes on the side. I walked closer and held it up. She looked at it, then back at me, ever so confused.

I slid one arm of the jacket open for her. “Put your arm in,” I murmured. She hesitated for half a second, then slipped her arm through.

I moved behind her, guiding the other sleeve over her shoulder, my fingers brushing against her arm as I adjusted it, pulling the jacket into place.

She looked down at herself, brought her hand up, and ran her fingers over the stripes. Fuck me, she looked perfect. I pulled out the gloves too, which had similar patterns, the same pink and white details stitched along the edges.

“Give me your hands,” I said, extending mine forward.

“Did you get me the whole gear or something?” She asked, shocked as she slid her hand into mine.

“Yup,” I said as I pulled the glove over her fingers slowly, adjusting it, tugging it into place, my thumb brushing over her knuckles as I secured it. “You are always going to ride with me, so I need you to be safe,” I added, tightening the straps.

“Always?” She echoed in absolute horror as her wary eyes flickered back to my bike like it was a monster that would devour her. Wrong, I will. “You want to kill me, is that it?”

I leaned closer and pecked her cheek, my lips lingering longer, “We’ll die together then, there isn’t anything more poetic than that, is there?” I said, throwing her a wink as I pulled back.

“So romantic,” She huffed under her breath as I reached for the helmet, the one with the same pink-white pattern.

Her eyes fell on it, and her lips twitched, betraying her, “Did you get all of them pink on purpose?”

I nodded, one hand holding the helmet while the other moved to her hair, gently brushing it away from her neck, smoothing it back. “You told me once it’s your favorite color,” I said as I slipped the helmet over her head carefully, adjusting it, my fingers grazing her jaw as I fixed the strap under her chin, not too tight.

When I was done, I leaned back slightly, taking her in.

My lips curved up, “You look so fucking hot, I could just eat you up right now.”

“If I let you eat me, would you drop the whole ride and we go back inside and guarantee we’ll live to see tomorrow?” She asked ever so adorably, her teeth digging nervously into her lower lip.

I chuckled, “Nice try.”

My hand came up, tapping lightly under her chin before sliding the visor down.

“I am going to eat you, and we are going on this ride, no backing off, princess,” I said as I grabbed my jacket and helmet, swung onto the bike, then glanced back at her with that same crooked smile as I extended my hand.

She stepped closer, hesitated, just for a second, then placed her hand in mine.

I hauled her up, pulling her into place behind me. I took both her arms and wrapped them around my waist, adjusting her grip until it felt right.

“Do you trust me?” I asked.

She hummed softly against my back. “Unfortunately for me, I do.”

I brushed my fingers over her gloved hand, tightening it slightly around me.

“Then don’t let go,” I said, starting the engine, the low rumble vibrating through both of us.

“And princess, I don’t mean just tonight.”

⊹˚₊‧────────────‧₊˚⊹

Aylin’s POV

This was a very bad idea.

No, correction…this was the worst, most catastrophically stupid idea I have ever agreed to in my entire life.

Yet here I was, on the back of a motorcycle with Nathan, clinging to him like my life depended on it.

Which…it probably did.

But here’s the thing. Nathan could’ve asked me to jump into the ocean in the middle of the night, and I would’ve probably done it. I would’ve done anything to see his smile again, and he smiled, and the rest of the world held no weight against that beautiful smile.

The whole stupid world could collapse around me, and I’d still choose that smile.

Every time.

So yes, bad idea. Still doing it, though.

I barely had time to take a proper breath before the bike lunged forward, faster, as he sped in between cars like a madman, which, honestly, he was, a madman through and through, but what would that make me?

“Ah—!” I yelped, my arms tightening instinctively around his waist, pressing myself into his back like that would somehow keep me alive.

God.

God, this was a bad idea.

The cold air hit my face, sharp even through the helmet, rushing past me as the engine roared beneath us.

“Nathan!” I half-shouted, half-panicked into his back, my voice muffled by the helmet as I held onto him tighter.

He didn’t slow down. Instead, I felt him shift slightly under me, relaxing, like he was settling into it, like this was where he belonged.

Like chaos was his most natural state.

“You said you trust me,” he called back, his voice carried by the wind, amused, completely unbothered.

“I do,” I yelled back, my grip tightening even more, “But I also like this thing called staying alive!”

A low laugh rumbled through him, and I felt it.

Through his back.

Through my chest.

My lips curved up involuntarily because he sounded free. The tension I saw earlier, the darkness, and the heavy weight, well, it wasn’t gone…but it wasn’t suffocating him anymore.

Somehow, that made this worth it, even if I died, which I still might, by the way. Very likely, actually.

I squeezed my eyes shut for a second, then opened them again, because apparently I like suffering.

Big mistake.

Nathan—being the absolute menace slash adrenaline junkie that he is—let go of the handlebars.

My soul left my body.

“Nathan, stop it!” I shouted, my arms tightening around him like I could fuse myself to his spine and survive impact.

“But it’s so much fun,” he called back, completely unbothered.

“It won’t be fun if we crash and I lose my arms and legs!”

He grabbed the handlebars again, finally, and I think I saw my life flash back into my body. “So dramatic,” He said with a click of his tongue, so I smacked his chest.

He caught my hand immediately, pulling it against him, pressing it flat over his beating heart, so rhythmic, so in control, “You feel that?”

“My very poor life choices catching up to me? Yeah, I feel it, crystal clear!”

He chuckled, the warm sound vibrating through both of us. His grip on my hand tightened slightly, his thumb brushing over my knuckles through the glove. “Relax,” he murmured, “You’re with me, I’d never let anything happen to you.”

“If you slow down a notch, I might actually be able to relax,” I grumbled.

And, miracle of miracles, he did, just enough. The speed dipped slightly, the wind easing, my shoulders loosening as I took a proper breath for the first time since I agreed to this insane plan.

“Oh, thank god—”

I didn’t even finish the sentence before he twisted the handlebars and the bike surged forward, even faster than before.

My chest slammed into his back, my arms snapping around him like a reflex.

“I think I like it better when you’re clinging to me,” he called back, far too pleased with himself.

I groaned loudly, scrambling to adjust my grip, my hands grabbing whatever they could.

“Princess, touching my dick is only going to get me more fired up, though, and that will definitely lead to our imminent death.”

My eyes widened behind the visor, and I yanked my hand back. Jesus Christ.

“Mm,” he hummed, “preferred it where it previously was, though.”

“Focus on the road,” I shot out and smacked his shoulder.

“I’d rather focus on you,” He caught my arm and wrapped it again around his waist. “Now, if I promise not to kill us, would you promise to spend the rest of your long, peaceful life with me?”

“Seriously, Nathan? Now?”

“What? They say near-death experiences bring people closer. I’m just being efficient,” He said, “Besides, even if we die, I’d marry you in the afterlife too, be certain.”

I gulped down, the bike’s speed sending my heart into overdrive, “That’s…not comforting.”

“It’s romantic,” he corrected.

“It’s unhinged.”

“Same thing.”

“Do you even hear yourself?” I muttered.

“Always,” he said. “I just don’t see the problem. I sound so wise all the time.”

I huffed out loudly, my headache spiking. He had a talent for that.

“Do you know Orpheus’s story?” he asked, out of the blue.

“Who’s that?”

He huffed out an annoyed breath, “Okay, you uncultured American, gotta blame the education system, not you, anyway…”

“I hate you sometimes.”

“No, you don’t,” He said, “Anyway, our mate, Orpheus, he loved this girl, Eurydice, but not in a normal way. In a ruin-me, follow-you-into-death kind of way, so when she actually died, he didn’t accept it, walked straight into the underworld to get her back.”

“That sounds…very healthy,” I said in mockery.

“Shush, I am imparting wisdom, listen. Anyway, our tragic idiot Orpheus played music so good it made even death hesitate, made the gods listen, and made the whole damn underworld go quiet just to hear him.”

The bike sped up slightly, and I tightened my hold around him, if that was even possible anymore.

“So, they gave her back,” he continued, his voice almost thoughtful now. “On one condition, though.”

“What’s that?”

“He couldn’t look at her until they reached the surface.”

“Hmm, and?”

Nathan tilted his head slightly, stealing a quick glance at me, “He looked.”

He faced forward again with a quiet breath. “So he lost her all over again.”

My brain was trying to process why he’s telling me this tragic story while actively risking our lives.

“And what’s exactly the lesson here?” I asked.

“Think about it, that’ll be your homework,” He said casually, “you’ll tell me what the lesson is here.”

I huffed out a laugh despite myself at this crazy man. “In another life, you would’ve been an English professor, wouldn’t you?”

“Huh, sounds about right,” He said, utterly amused, “I like that actually…wait, wait, would that make you my student, though? Please be my student, we’d have a forbidden affair, it sounds so hot in my head.”

I couldn’t help it, I laughed, the sound slipping out of me, washing away the fear. For a second, I forgot the bike, the road, the speed…even forgot the way my heart had been aching ever since he told me everything.

“You’d give me the highest grades though,” I said, my hand pressing lightly against his chest, running over gently, as I leaned into him, “right?”

“Nah, no cheating, so when you get a bad grade, I’ll take you into my office and spank you…okay, now I am getting hard, which is not very ideal at the moment,” He huffed a breath, “Alright, let’s go back to our dude Orpheus,” He said. “What do you think of him?”

My fingers drifted over his chest, down his stomach, tracing the lines beneath the fabric without thinking. “Well, if he just waited a little longer, he wouldn’t have failed, wouldn’t have lost her, so if anything, that makes him impatient…and kind of weak.”

Nathan hummed, “No, not really.”

“You don’t think so?”

“He didn’t look back because he was weak; he looked back because he needed to know she was still there,” He answered. “You see, he was so close. All he had to do was believe in her, believe she was behind him, but that one moment of doubt, that need to check, cost him everything.”

I felt it, the way this stopped being some…random Greek mythology, the way it turned into something else, something about us.

Thick silence wrapped around us after that, so heavy and alive with everything we didn’t say.

Is that how he felt? Did he think I wouldn’t be there? That I’d slip away when he wasn’t looking, disappear the second he dared to trust it?

Did he think he had to turn around, had to check, just to make sure I hadn’t already left him behind?

“By the way,” he added, trying to sound playful, like he hadn’t just said something that rewired my brain, “if you die, I’m coming to get you back.”

I blinked. “Nathan—”

“I’m serious,” he said. “I’d walk into heaven, argue with whoever’s in charge, probably piss them off, and bring you back, so I kind of need you to promise you’ll be there, right behind me, following me.” His voice dipped, “So I don’t have to look back…and lose you.”

I leaned forward, resting my head against his back, my arms wrapping around him tighter, my heart falling apart all over again, “I promise, I’ll always be behind you. I’ll follow you everywhere.”

I’ll fight this goddamn disease and forbid it from ruining him or us.

He brushed my hand soothingly and fell silent again. I pressed my eyes shut, fighting off tears that never stopped today, like something inside me didn’t know how to carry what he had lived through.

I felt it everywhere still, every piece he refused to feel, every part he buried and dismissed.

It settled into me, into places I didn’t know existed, turning into something unbearable, grief that wasn’t mine, rage that had nowhere to go, and love that didn’t know how to fix any of it.

The bike slowed after a while, swerving right, pulling me out of it before I could drown in him completely. “I need to stop for petrol,” Nathan explained.

“For…what?” I asked, still half somewhere else.

He huffed out an annoyed breath, “God, you uneducated American,” he mocked, his tone dripping with judgment. “Petrol.”

“It’s called gas,” I grumbled, ready to smack him.

He scoffed, “No, it’s not, gas is a state of matter. What I’m about to put in this bike is liquid. Therefore…petrol.”

I pointed at the station as he pulled in, “Look—look right there. It literally says gas station.”

He huffed out, “It’s a petrol station.”

I smacked his shoulder again, “Gas.”

He scoffed again, then switched into an exaggerated American accent, “Oh my gawd, I need to pump my motor with gaas—”

I smacked him harder. “Stop mocking me!”

“I am not mocking, it’s an actual impression of what you people sound like, revolting.” 

“Did you call me revolting, you stuck-up Brit?”

He steadied the bike and swung off in one smooth motion, “No, Americans are,” He said, pulling off his helmet, shaking his hair out, dark, messy, and slightly damp. He ran a hand through it, making it worse in the best way.

Jesus christ, paired with the leather jacket, the reckless edge still clinging to him, he looked like every fantasy I’d never even dared to admit to myself.

“And since you’ll be taking my nationality when we get married, you’ll be a stuck-up Brit like me,” He added with a smile, ever so casually.

My heart did a stupid little thing. Crazy, he is just so crazy.

I tried to ignore him and swung a leg over to get off the bike, but my legs weren’t exactly steady considering the fear of god he put in me while speeding like a maniac. He caught me quickly, wrapping his arm around my waist to keep me upright.

“You okay there?” he murmured.

“Just—” I swallowed, my fingers fumbling with the helmet straps, “trying to catch my breath.”

He assisted me and pulled it off, resting it over the bike before he smoothed down my hair, tucking it behind my ear. His head tilted as he gazed at me, “Mm, I’ve been trying to catch mine too since the day I met you.”

My face heated up instantly, always betraying me around him, “Stop flirting, you already have me.”

He chuckled softly, leaned down, and pecked my lips, “I am not flirting, it’s the truth.”

When he pulled back, his arm loosened from around me, and I felt unsteady again, “I’ll go pay for the pet…the gas,” He corrected himself, flashing me a knowing look, “and be back.”

He slipped inside, and I leaned back against the bike, exhaling slowly, trying to gather whatever was left of my sanity. It’s been one hell of a day, alright.

I pushed myself off the bike, about to head inside myself, when the door opened, and Nathan stepped back out.

“I’ll just get something and be back,” I said quickly.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” he said, already turning back toward the door. “I’ll get it.”

I shook my head, stepping in front of him. “No, no—you go pump your…petrol,” I emphasized, “I’ll be back.”

He narrowed his eyes at me, “What are you getting?”

I went for the oldest trick in the book, “Uh, just girl stuff.”

His brows pulled together, suspicion written all over his face. “Girl stuff? What girl stuff could possibly be found in a petrol station?”

I shot him a glare. “God, usually guys get scared when I say girl stuff. Why are you so goddamn curious?”

“Why would I be scared—” he started, then paused, “Wait…hold the fuck on, which guys have you been saying this to?”

I threw my hands in the air. “Oh my god—I meant in general!” I shoved him away. “Just go, go, you’re so goddamn infuriating.”

Thankfully, he went back outside, grumbling more nonsense. I slipped inside, grabbed what I needed, and paid up quickly.

My eyes flickered, almost involuntarily, over the tattoos creeping up the cashier’s arms and stretching toward his neck, way too many, way too loud. I grimaced, imagining how painful that had to be, but then…I recalled the one single tattoo on Nathan’s back, right below his shoulder blade, a line of words.

I sneak a peek at it every now and then, but never really understood it.

I shook the thought away and stepped back outside. Nathan was all done, he eyed me suspiciously first before he held up a bag he had previously gotten from inside.

He lifted one of the cans, “Uh, I got us…matcha sparkling water,” He grimaced, “I bet it’s gonna taste like shit and grass, but what can I do, must get used to your tasteless American habits.”

“Stop it,” I grumbled, walking closer, trying not to smile or shove him to the ground.

He chuckled, pushing off the bike, then nodded toward the road ahead, toward a turn off to the side, it curved away from the main road, quieter, darker, and leading somewhere more secluded, “Let’s go stop there, it looks peaceful.”

I agreed without question, getting on the bike behind him as he took us there. He parked at the edge of it, the engine dying down into a low silence.

We got off, leaning against the bike as I looked ahead.

There was a railing and, beneath us, a lake of sorts. The sky stretched over the water like dark ink, the moon sitting high and full, its reflection breaking softly with the faintest ripples, so very beautiful.

The cold bit at my face, but the jacket he gave me kept the rest of me warm, wrapped, and protected.

Nathan cracked open my can and handed it to me. I took a sip and hummed in satisfaction at the bubbly taste. He took a sip and grimaced immediately, wincing like he’d been punched. He glared down at it, then took another sip, forcing himself to drink it for some reason.

My lips twitched as I leaned forward toward the railing, setting the can down. My hand dug into my pocket, and I pulled out the cigarette pack I just bought.

Nathan’s eyes fell on it, “Since when do you smoke?” he asked, the line between his brows tightening.

“I don’t,” I said simply, tearing it open and pulling one out.

Then I walked over and tossed the rest of the pack straight into the nearby trash. “But since you’ve kept your promise and never smoked again, which you shouldn’t ever,” I pointed out sternly, shooting him a look.

“Anyway, I’ll let you have this one, just this one, also we’ll both share it, and it’ll be the last one you smoke ever, deal?”

I didn’t wait for his answer and placed the cigarette between my lips.

I looked up at him, “Light me up, baby.”

He chuckled, the sound husky and warm, throwing his head back in that innocent boyish way that makes my stomach twist and flutter.

“Fuck me, you are so adorable,” He said, running his thumb over his lower lip as if to stop himself from smiling too much.

I wanted him to smile only, to tease me and annoy me, misbehave as much as he wanted, ruin the world and me, anything…anything but that…horrible memory.

“Come on,” I muttered around the cigarette between my lips, my voice slightly muffled.

He chuckled again as he reached for the bike, popping the seat open and pulling out a lighter.

He edged closer to me, flicking the flame, moving it closer to the cigarette in my mouth, “You look so hot like this, like I’ve corrupted you somehow, ruined you, and left my indeniable mark on you.”

“You did, you are such a bad influence,” I said, and inhaled the poison.

Wrong.

Very wrong. Bad idea, indeed.

The smoke hit my throat and burned. I choked immediately, pulling the cigarette away, coughing as smoke escaped my lips in uneven puffs.

“Jesus—” I rasped, waving it away, “this is horrible. How do you even like this?”

His eyebrows pulled together, “Yeah, so hot indeed,” He mocked me, and I punched his arm, trying to recover still as I coughed.

“Okay, you amateur, come here,” His fingers fisted the lapels of my jacket and pulled me closer so abruptly I yelped, stumbling into him, “I’ll show you how it’s done.”

My breath caught as I looked up at him, and his gaze fell to my lips. “Keep your lips parted,” He said. His other hand took the cigarette from my hand, and my lips parted instinctively as I stared up at him, my pulse so loud in my ears.

God—

He was so bad for me.

So dangerously, beautifully wrong.

He placed the cigarette between his own lips, inhaled slowly, and then pulled it away. He tilted his head, edged closer, and blew the smoke into my mouth. Jesus fucking christ…I don’t know why my toes curled, why my stomach exploded, my breath stuttering. The world narrowed to him, everything fading into the background as he slammed his lips against mine.

The breathless sound that tore out of me on impact was weak, full of surrender.

He discarded the cigarette; I barely registered it hitting the ground before he crushed it under his shoe, stepping into me, pushing his body forward into mine till my spine slammed against the bike. His hand came to my head, bunching in my hair, holding me close as he devoured my mouth like he hadn’t touched me in years.

Like he’d been starving.

Like he’d waited too long.

Like he wasn’t going to stop.

The faint taste of smoke lingered between us, something addictive, curling through every breath I tried and failed to take.

My fingers clenched into his jacket, holding onto him, pulling him to me. I wanted him so deep in me I’d never be able to let him go. I wanted to throw away all of the old promises I’ve given myself. I wanted to tear down every wall I held high, unlearn every lesson I learned. I wanted to trash them and give everything in me to this man, every single piece, till I have none left.

He deepened the kiss just enough to make my head spin, just enough to blur the line between control and surrender, like he was always standing right there, on the edge of too much.

His tongue delved deeper, his teeth nibbled and pulled on my lower lip, pulling a soft, shameless sound out of me.

“Why do you taste like the best fucking thing in this world?” his voice sounded like a gravelly murmur against my mouth, erupting more goosebumps across my body.

“Fuck,” He groaned, pushing further into me, my back digging into the handlebars till it hurt, like he wanted to fuse into me, rip through me, “God fucking damn it, princess, I—”

He stopped, exhaling sharply, like he caught himself mid-fall. His fingers tightened in my hair before he pulled back just enough, like he was so close to falling down a hill but held himself back at the last second.

My eyelids fluttered open, gazing up at his wrecked eyes, so dark and light, gold and green clashing, sunlight bleeding through storm clouds, something alive and dangerous and starving.

I licked my lips, still tasting him, the smoke, everything tangled together.

“If this is what cigarettes taste like, then I am done for,” I mumbled, trying to pull him back from wherever he’d gone, “consider me addicted.”

His lips twitched slightly, and my shoulders sank. He loosened his grip on my head, smoothing my hair, brushing my cheek. I straightened up, but my body stayed so close to his.

My gaze dropped to the cigarette, now crushed and lifeless on the ground. “Why did you throw it away?”

He shook his head, “I don’t need it, I have you.”

My hand moved before I thought about it, slipping past his chest, around his side, over the leather of his jacket. “Nathan.”

“Hmm?”

“The tattoo on your back…” I traced the shape of it through the fabric, “What does it say?”

His eyes held mine, “Acheronta movebo,” the words rolled off his tongue fluently. Before I could ask more, he took my hand, guided it, slipped it under his jacket, under his shirt, pressing my palm against his bare skin.

My breath faltered as he dragged my fingers slowly across his warm back, letting me feel it instead of see it.

“Do you feel that?” he asked, his voice quieter now.

My eyebrows pulled closer as he gently dragged my fingertips over hot, smooth skin…but then, I felt it, a small part of the skin was slightly raised, rougher beneath my touch.

“It was the first scar I got,” he explained, “and in a way, the most painful one.”

Oh.

Which is why he chose that one in exact to cover up.

“Acheronta movebo,” He repeated the words, “It means I will raise hell.”

My lips parted in astoinshment and he clarified, “It comes from a saying, flectere si nequeo superos, acheronta movebo…it means, if I can’t bend the heavens, I will raise hell instead.”

Something dark unfurled in my chest, wrapping itself around my ribs, tightening with every second I stayed there, my hand still pressed against that one scar. He had many others, worse ones, deeper ones, scattered across his chest, but he chose the one he got on…that day.

“You won’t be doing it alone, I want in,” I said, brushing his skin softly, “If the world ever dares to hurt you again, then I want to be right there when it burns.”

His eyebrow lifted, amused, something warm flickering beneath it. “I really corrupted you, didn’t I?”

I shook my head, my smile softer this time. “I was already corrupted.”

He chuckled and leaned down, pecking my lips softly. I dragged my hand lower, settling it at his waist, still not ready to let him go.

“You know, I always wanted to get a tattoo, something small and meaningful,” my eyes lit up, “We should so get a matching one.”

His lips twitched, and the darkness in his gaze loosened, just enough to let something boyish slip through.

“I already know what I’d get,” he said.

I tilted my head, “What?”

He tapped his chest, right over his heart, “Over here, something like a moon.”

My brows pulled together. “A moon?”

He nodded, “Yeah, your name, Aylin, meaning the one who belongs to the moon, aka, you’ll belong here,” he tapped his heart again.

I huffed out a quiet laugh, sinking into him just a little more. “Mm…then I’ll get a wolf,” I said, glancing up at him. “So it can howl at the moon over your heart.”

He laughed, “Fuck, that’s perfect.” His arm tightened around me, like he didn’t trust the world not to take me if he loosened it.

“We are so meant to be, aren’t we?” he murmured.

I nodded my head, smiling, hoping the world won’t ruin this for us, “We so are.”

⊹˚₊‧───────────────────────‧₊˚⊹

Annddd it’s gonna be downhill from here on xD
You’ve been warned!

The next chapter is already up, scroll down, don’t miss it 🩶