That’s the thing about magnets, though. They find their way back together, even if they have to cut through other substances to do so. Sometimes the moon orbits the Earth from a farther distance, but it always returns, even if that means eclipsing the sun.
Elena and I may be destined, but what does it mean if that destiny includes the detriment of others? The obliteration of ourselves?
Is the guilt that swallows us warranted? Is it the punishment for our crimes? Or do we get a pass because we’re meant to be?Is happiness beyond this pain still possible? Or are we cemented in the gray reality we’ve seemed to create for ourselves?
The questions pound against my mind like the pattering of rain on a roof, fogging my brain as I finish the drive home. By the time I pull into the driveway and kill the engine, Elena is fully asleep.
I gently tap her shoulder, whispering her name, but she hardly stirs. Remembering what she’s like when she’s woken without proper rest, I decide it may be safer to carry her inside without waking her at all. Stepping out of the car, I’m quiet as I shut my door and round to her side, opening hers.
She whimpers as I reach over her body and unbuckle her before scooping one arm beneath her knees and the other around her back, pulling her from the seat and hoisting her into my arms. I shut the door with my foot and adjust her weight as I reach the front of the house to unlock it and get us inside.
She begins to fidget as I make my way up the staircase, groggily asking, “What’re you doing?”
“Didn’t want to wake you,” I whisper. “So, I thought I’d carry you to bed.”
She curls against my chest, placing a hand right over my heart. I know she means nothing by the gesture, but that doesn’t change the fact that I feel everything at the sight of it.
“But you hate me.”
I halt, pausing to look down at her. Elena’s eyes remain closed, her lips forming the perfect pout that makes my knees buckle, lashes fanning out over her soft cheeks. I can’t help but watch her in quiet restfulness as I reach her room.
“I wanted to hate you. But I don’t,” I admit softly as I lay her down upon the bed. “I needed to escape you. But I can’t.” Hovering over her, I trace the peaceful features of her face, brushing my thumb over her cheek. “You’re so deeply etched into the fabric of my being, the depths of my soul, that I find I’mincapable of doing anything but loving you.” I press my lips to the top of her head, whispering, “My favorite vice.”
I move to the end of the bed, unstrapping her heels and setting them on the floor. I know the dress will be uncomfortable to sleep in, but I don’t want to go so far as to undress her while she’s mostly asleep.
I toss the comforter over her shoulders, stealing a kiss against her forehead. I never allow myself to be so gentle—so affectionate—with her. Not for the sake of boundaries or because I don’t want it, but simply because it pains me to do so. To let myself believe, for even the briefest of moments, I could have her that way again.
It’s why I won’t kiss her. Why I don’t fuck her. I’ll tease us both with touch and taste, but the true connection of our souls is far too painful. There are too many secrets kept, too many words left unspoken, because the truth is, I don’t fucking trust her. I don’t know if it’s possible for that foundation to be rebuilt, and without it, Elena and I are nothing more than flesh and bone.
I straighten, and as I turn to leave her room, a small, soft hand snatches out to wrap around my wrist. I spin, finding two espresso-colored eyes blazing back at me. I don’t need to ask—the heat inside them tells me she heard every word that escaped my mouth.
“Stay,” she whispers.
“I can’t.” My tone is low and tortured. “I’ll never leave if I do.”
“So don’t.” Her tone is a plea. “Stay with me. Please.”
I pull my wrist from her grasp, sliding my palm up to hers and lacing our fingers together. “Not until you find yourself again, Elena. Not until you open up to me. I can’t stay until I know why you left. Why you were happier without me.”
“I was never happier without you, Augustus.” Her gaze is fixated on our hands. “Not for one moment.”
“Then why did you leave?”
Her throat bobs as she swallows, and she refuses to meet my eyes as she pulls her hand from mine and rolls over, murmuring into the darkness, “I don’t deserve happiness.”
More than her touch, more than her distance, more than the loss, more than the pondering of alternate realities, it’s that sentence that kills me. Like blades slicing through the center of my gravity, everything turns upside down.
How she could ever think such a thing about herself baffles me, makes me wonder if I haven’t done a good enough job throughout my life showing her that she deserves everything.
I pull off the blanket covering her, and she turns to face me again, brows knit in confusion.
“Take off your dress,” I demand before stalking over to her dresser, kicking my shoes off by the door. Opening the top drawer, I grab a pair of cotton shorts. I pull open the next two drawers before finally finding an oversized tee and grabbing that too.
When I return to the bed, she’s lying on her back, watching me curiously. She’s completely naked, but it’s not the playful tease I’m used to finding. It’s raw exposure—more than her body. It’s the unspoken understanding that I know her deeply enough to see her this way, to recognize the difference between moments of intimacy and those of vulnerability.
We’re silent as I loop the bottoms over her feet, sliding them up her legs and fastening them around her hips. She sits up slightly, just enough to lift her arms above her head as I drape the T-shirt over her. I step back, stripping out of my own clothes until I’m left in nothing but my boxers.
She moves over a few inches, and I crawl into bed behind her. I snake an arm over her waist, tugging her flush to my chest as I slip my other arm beneath her neck. She places her hand in my open palm, running the pad of her fingers along my own.
