I part my lips to respond, but a little Asian girl with pigtails runs toward us and bumps into Andrew’s leg. She looks up at us and makes a small bow, mumbling a small ‘sorry’ and rushes back to her parents.
She reminds me of my sister.
“What a cutie,” I remark and smile as her dad picks her up and carries her on his shoulders through the Oceanarium. “Don’t you think? Andrew?”
His entire body went more rigid than a pillar. I notice his frozen gaze and hand gripping the hem of my shirt. He stares blankly at theground, a slight tremble in his lips. I cup his cheeks before thinking it through and force him to look at me.
“Hey,” I murmur, tilting my head until our eyes finally meet. “What’s wrong?”
This sudden reaction to being bumped into is too strong to be normal. It’s closer to fear than surprise. He seems in shock and almost terrified as if he can’t assimilate the small collision.
Time for a distraction.
“Do you want to know where my scar is from?”I ask, attentively watching his reaction.
He blinks dazedly and nods hesitantly. “But that’s such a personal subject. I-I wouldn’t dare ask.”
“I’m offering.”
I caress his cheeks, sliding my hands slowly down his face, his neck, then his shoulders and arms, until I reach his hands. The stiffness in his body slowly evaporates under my touch, and I sense the ocean in me quiet down from the mere thought that I’m the one appeasing his torment. I let go of one of his hands to fold my sleeve up and reveal the white line scarring my skin.
“The story behind this scar is…odd and confusing. I don’t know where to begin.”
He gazes down at my arm, pain and regret latching onto his features. Emotions I don’t understand the root of.
Ihurt myself, not him, and yet his eyes convey more suffering that I ever thought was possible.
“Eight years ago, I attempted to take my life,” I say, swallowing the tightness in my throat. “I must admit it hadn’t been the first time, but the first was an accident. The second…I don’t remember exactly what happened. I recall driving to my hometown in Redmond a couple years earlier to kill myself, but I don’t remember much of that day.” I chuckle awkwardly but the discomfort of the topic fades when the tips of his fingers stroke the scar, and I shudder under his velvet touch. “I had an apartment in Seattle back in the day. My mental health was a wreck, and I remember the agony when I sat on that bathroom floor. That was the third time. Nothing else seemed to matter but to make this pain stop. So,” I exhale a shaky breath, “I did what I knew would rid me of that feeling. I grabbed a razor blade and slit my vein, watching the blood drip down my fingers and relief hit me like a tempest.”
I look up at him momentarily, gathering the courage to face the avalanche of repulsion awaiting me in those honey irises.
But when our eyes meet, all I see is an aching soul.
“I don’t remember why exactly I did it. I don’t remember much at all from that time, to be honest. My memory is flawed,” I admit shamefully. “All I know, is that I couldn’t take it anymore and death seemed like the only option, but…somehow I’m still here.”
He shudders and deflates against me. “Thank God you are. I don’t know what I would do if you weren’t.”
“Probably living your life peacefully.”
“That’s not true, Aoi,” he rebuts with a slight scowl. “So, you don’t remember what led up to your last attempt?”
“The doctor in charge of me had explained that memory loss wasn’t very uncommon after a traumatic event and that the memories should slowly come back. But they never did.” I huff. “Three years of my life disappeared as if they had never even existed.”
“Three years? You haven’t tried to remember?” he questions, trying to hold back his distress.
“Attempting to remember gives me massive headaches so I stopped altogether.”
He traces the scar with the tip of his fingers, leaving a trail of goosebumps behind. “I’m sorry you had to go through all of that on your own.”
“I wasn’t alone. I had my friends and uncle by my side. They took care of me in time of need and I’m eternally grateful for them.”
His expression breaks like ancient ceramic, and he drops a featherlight kiss on the fine, white line. A blush creeps up my cheeks, and I have to avert my gaze before I say or do something rash like kissing him.
I shouldn’t–no matter how much I want to.
“Even if you don’t remember a part of your life, you’re still whole,” he murmurs against my skin. “You deserve everything and more, my Paradise. I will never allow you to suffer again as long as I’m alive. I promise.”
The familiar stinging behind my eyes takes over as my throat constricts. Alarms blare in the back of my mind, demanding I keep my shield up and my blades sharp, but something stronger in me begs me to lower my guard just this once.
