I was onto my second movie in the living room before I finally succumbed to sleep, surrounded by a noticeably empty house and no closer to answers.
The faintest caress of fingers ghosted over my cheek, and I jolted awake, my sharp inhale shattering the silence
“Shit. Sorry, Evy, I didn’t mean to scare you.” My gaze shot up to his in the shock at being woken and if that wasn’t enough to bring me into consciousness, the reopened gash across Cooper’s brow certainly was.
My fingers reached up of their own accord, brushing the skin above the cut tenderly.
“Where have you been?” My question was a concerned whisper in the depths of the night.
Cooper shook his head subtly, a fatigue which wasn’t present yesterday marring his features.
“No where good.” He answered eventually, subconsciously leaning into my touch as he crouched beside the lounge where Iwas still laying. The light from the television illuminated the room, another movie having commenced while I was asleep, meaning I’d been out here a while, and it was probably closer to sunrise than yesterday.
“You’ve been fighting again.” Somehow, the camouflage of the night made voicing the statement easier and to his credit, he nodded once confirming what I already knew.
“Why?” I asked as I sat up, making room for him on the lounge next to me which I indicated with a slight tilt of my head. Like all those times as kids, it was always easier to talk when we sat side by side, the darkness a comforting companion.
He ran a hand through his hair, sighing deeply as he pushed himself up to standing before the lounge dipped under his weight. His warmth moved through me instantly, the air of his heaped frame sinking into the cushions bringing the calm I’d been searching for all night. I waited patiently, scanning his side profile for any other visible injuries and other than the purplish bruise darkening across his stubbled jaw, he appeared okay. He was still wearing the clothes he’d worn to the distillery, only now there was a tinge of sweat to his otherwise masculine scent.
Reaching forward he flicked the TV off, the room falling into a still darkness. My eyes took a while to adjust, and I held my breath unsure if he was going to answer but just as I built the courage to repeat my question, he spoke.
“Because I always have.” His response was so simple yet weighted with an emotion I couldn’t label at this ungodly hour. Although, it could have been the middle of the day with how awake I now was sitting this close to him, desperate for whatever he would share.
“You fight for fun?” The confusion was clear in my tone and his breath left his nose in a telling release.
“No, not for fun.” He reached across, patting over my leg searchingly before encasing my hand with his own. Other than my hand which moved with his own to rest atop his thigh, I was frozen. The power he had over me was something I couldn’texplain. No matter how much time passed, my body sought his touch, like fire to oxygen.
“Then why?” I hoped my voice didn’t give away how nervous I was. How I wished I could burrow myself onto his lap and seek answers to all the questions I’d wondered for so long. Settling instead for enjoying the way he interlocked our fingers in one hand and traced patterns on the top with his other.
Did he sense it too? That invisible thread which lingered between us. It was there even as children and while it weakened with time, I never did forget. Moments like this when we were alone without the need to pretend for anyone, gripped by the silence of the night, it felt all consuming.
“Because it’s all I’ve ever known.” The admission sounded as though it took more from his soul than six words ever should.
“It’s what I’ve always done when things felt too much. Sometimes I fight to express and others to suppress, but always because - because if I don’titwill take over.”
“What will take over?”
“The violence.”
My heart ached, traitorous tears welling at the desolate tone of his voice, but I swallowed them down. I didn’t want to risk doing anything that might cause him to stop talking, so I just shuffled closer. Up close he was warm, smelled like leather and remnants of cologne, but importantly, he seemed to sink into my proximity.
“Where do you fight?” I asked, thinking it was safer to start with the easier, more logical questions.
“A gymnasium downtown,” he confessed, his thumb tracing my own in a circular motion I swore I could feel in my heart. “It’s a well-known gym, but it runs a little differently at night. The owner’s both a friend of my father’s and a cruel bastard.”
“And your dad doesn’t mind that you get hurt?”
“He doesn’t know. It was one of the alluring parts about Marcus’ offer. Didn’t need anything else for the old man to be disappointed about.”
“What triggered the need this time?” I was scared to know buteven more terrified he was going to say it was me. It was me who had led him into a situation that elicited such pain he felt the need to fight.
He didn’t answer for the longest time, and I thought I’d gone too far. Pried into a place too raw, too personal. Sebastian said he never let anyone in and even as children I remembered the way he avoided topics with an impish grin which was designed to distract its recipient from uncovering whatever it was he didn’t want them to know.
“Evangeline.” He sighed, his whispered use of my name was effortless, like it meant nothing. But I heard the ten letters loud and clear.
Ten.
Symmetrical, even, predictable - the complete opposite to the man in front of me.
