“I’m sorry I hurt you,” he says, lip quivering as his words tumble out in a rush. “I shouldn’t have hidden everything, and I’m sorry I did, and I’m sorry I had to let them take you. I’m sorry it took me so long to find you, and I just—”
“Xeni, you need to breathe,” I whisper, cupping his face to ground him.
He scrambles into my lap like he’s seeking shelter, and he feels so small against me.
“I’msorry,” he rasps, lips grazing my neck in feather-light touches. “About all of it. I didn’t know what else to do, and I’m sorry.”
I wrap my arms around him tighter, one hand stroking his back in slow, soothing passes as his body trembles against mine.
“It’s okay,” I whisper into his hair, pressing a kiss there. “It’s all going to be okay. Let’s get you clean, alright? You’ll feel better after a shower.”
He nods with a shuddering inhale, still curled against me, and I give him another minute of stillness as I run my fingers along his spine. Carefully, I guide him off my lap and help him stand, and he’s dazed as he allows me to unlace his boots and unzip his pants. They get tossed aside into a heap, and I tug him out of the shower as I start the water.
Even bruised and filthy, with his shoulders slumped forward and his hair a matted mess, he’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.
I remember the first time I laid eyes on him.
I was terrified, stepping into Ljómur after being grabbed out of school and ordered to work for the military. Everything was strange—sterile and unfamiliar.
I didn’t know a soul.
Xeni was across the room talking to another medic, and it felt like I was under a spell. I was mesmerized by his easy smile and flowing hair, and when he saw me staring, I sensed something hiding underneath those pale eyes.
He was beautifully sad.
A piece of modern art trapped within the confines of a Renaissance painting.
Vivid, wild, and free on the inside, but muted into something socially acceptable on the outside.
Reluctantly tamed.
I’d seen the explosion of color living inside his eyes. Had wanted more of it in my life, mess be damned.
We’d always been such a beautiful mess.
He watches as I undress, letting his gaze roam my body. It’s intimate but not wanting. He surveys the dips and curves like he’s memorizing how it’s changed since we were last strippedbare like this. Our fingers lace as I help him into the shower, and once we’re under the spray, I glance up at him.
Blood specks create macabre freckles across his pale face, while darker clots pool along the edge of his eyepatch. The reminders of the night’s trauma are stark on his skin, and I reach up with both hands to slide the patch off so I can wash them away.
“No,” he pleads in a whisper as he seizes my wrists, his fear ringing louder than the sirens outside.
“We need to get you clean, Xen.” I stroke my thumbs across his cheeks, wiping away streaks of dried blood.
He doesn’t release me. “I don’t want you to see.”
“Why not?”
He pauses, lip pinched between his teeth until the skin blanches, and his gaze darts to the droplets of water trickling down the tiles.
“I only ever wanted to be perfect for you,” he admits quietly. His single eye darts to mine for a fleeting second before dropping to stare at my chest. “Now I can’t be.”
Something fundamental inside me shatters at the confession, because I understand its roots. Xeni never hid his difficult childhood from me, but now?
Knowing who his father was, and the impossible standards he could never meet?
It’s no wonder he needs so much reassurance.
“Do you trust me?” I ask, thumb brushing the edge of a scar that shows under the patch.
