My eyes flicked to him. Narrowed slightly as I held my breath.
“Nothin’ happened... I couldn’t stop thinkin’ of you so I left... That was when you sent me your location.” He stole a glance in my direction and then looked down at his hands, rubbing his thumb across a faint red blister on the heel of his hand. “I don’t think I can function without you, and I know that sounds stupid, but I hate that it took me ruinin’ what we had to realize that.” Another frown as his throat bobbed. “But...if you want me gone, just say the word and you’ll never hear from me again... I only wanted to make sure you woke up.”
He didn't look up as he waited and braced himself. For someone with that much strength and height, I had never seen him look so small.
I didn't mean to pause for so long. Nerves and raw emotion were slowly weaving their way around my thoughts. It was hard to stay distant when all I wanted was to connect with him again.
My voice was quiet when I said, “Leaving doesn’t fix everything, Dean.”
His eyes found mine. The silvery blue was cloudier than usual as he looked up from beneath the strands of black hair that hung across his brow. Dark shadows clung to the skin beneath his eyes, and I wondered when he slept last.
Without a second to reconsider, I slowly reached my fingertips towards his face and delicately brushed the hair away from his forehead. He closed his eyes.
I remembered what he had done for me. Not only walking at a loaded gun but everything that followed. I remembered the panic in his eyes when he thought he was losing me, and the subtle urgency in his voice begging me to hold on. Those memories were enough for something to shift again; to move back into a place that felt more familiar.
I didn’t think I could function without him either.
“Stay,” I whispered, unable to speak through the emotion that overran my voice.
His eyes opened and concern riddled his face as he read whatever expression was on mine. I wanted to say more, tell him that I was still terrified and couldn’t shake the echo of that gunshot from my mind, but was hit with a more intense wave of emotion instead. Sadness, anger, and fear all raging forward at once. It cracked my voice to nothing but a whimper.
“Please stay. I can’t—”
It felt like a panic attack but came out as breathless, gut-wrenching tears and sobs that only brought me agony as my stitches pulled. I winced and cried as I curled forward, vaguely noticing the way the right side of the bed dipped before a pair of warm, rough hands cradled my face. Gently forcing me to keep my head up.
“I’m here. I’m here,” Dean crooned, stroking my cheeks with his thumbs as I clutched one of his wrists. My other arm was wrapped across my middle, where it felt like I was being torn from the inside out with every gasp for air.
“It hurts,” I said tightly. My chest heaved too rapidly. Each inhale only pulled the stitches taut, but I needed air. I squeezed my eyes a little tighter and held onto him to ground myself somehow. It wasn’t working and my breath shuddered sharply.
“Lily, look at me.” He took my other hand and pressed my fingers to the steady pulse in his neck.
My eyes opened again to find his level with mine.
The most beautiful pair of eyes I had ever seen.
I focused on what I could see, creating a list of details in my head to the drum of his pulse against my fingertips.
The light shade of blue in his irises was dusted with silver and gray flecks, framed with dark eyelashes and golden-brown skin. When he took a deep breath, I did the same. Over and over until the pain in my side gradually subsided to an ache more bearable.
Breathing was easier.
“That’s it,” he whispered.
I closed my eyes again once my head cleared, and lowered my fingers from his neck. My hand remained around his wrist though. A small part of me thought if I let go too soon, everything might unravel again.
For a little while, it felt like we were the only two people in the world.
“Lily...” His voice was gentle but firm as he brushed his thumb across my cheek. His touch felt a little more hesitant this time.
His expression was the same when I looked at him, finding him frowning slightly at himself before he withdrew. There was a silent argument going on inside his head. One that made him look torn about what he would say next.
My hand drifted from his wrist and down into his palm, where I gently squeezed to grab his attention in case he got lost in his thoughts and started making brash decisions for the both of us. I wasn’t even sure there was an us, but I still cared deeply for him.
“Tell me what you’re thinking,” I asked softly, wiping at my face with my other hand.
He was still looking at our hands as his eyebrows slanted upwards. “Even if it scares you?”
I was brought back to that morning in my bedroom when Dean was interrupted by the apartment fire alarm.
