I feel… seen.
I slide off the bed slowly, testing my balance before I take a step toward him. The floor is cool under my bare feet, grounding in a way I didn’t realize I needed. He doesn’t move. Doesn’t close the distance. Doesn’t reach for me. He lets me come to him.
That matters.
Every step feels deliberate, like I’m crossing something invisible that I can’t go back over once I’ve made the choice. I stop right in front of him. Close enough that I can feel the heat of his body. Close enough that I can see the faint bruise forming along his jaw from earlier, the split at the corner of his lip that he hasn’t bothered to clean up completely. Close enough that I can see the moment his breathing shifts. He’s waiting. Not pushing. Not taking. Waiting.
I don’t give myself time to overthink it. I lift my arms and wrap them around him. It’s instinct. Not cautious. Not hesitant. I press into him like my body already knows where it fits.
For half a second, he goes completely still. Then his arms come around me. Slow. Controlled. But once they’re there, they tighten just enough to pull me in closer, like he’s grounding himself as much as he is me. His chest is solid against mine. Warm. Steady in a way I’m not.
I breathe him in without meaning to.Leather. Soap. Something darker underneath that I don’t have a name for but recognize anyway.
Safe.
The word slips in before I can stop it.
I tilt my head slightly, just enough to look up at him.
His eyes are already on me. Locked. Focused in that way that makes everything else feel like it fades out around us.
I don’t ask. I don’t wait. I rise up onto my toes and press my mouth to his. Soft. Not like the first time. Not desperate. Not breaking. Intentional. The kiss is gentle in a way that doesn’t fit anything else about him, but he doesn’t pull away. His hand slides up my back, fingers spreading slightly like he’s anchoring me there.
He kisses me back. Careful. Controlled. Like he’s holding something in check instead of letting it take over. It’s intimate in a way that makes my chest tighten. Not because I’m afraid. Because I’m not. Because I feel too much.
I pull back first, but I don’t move away. My forehead rests lightly against his chest for a second before I drop my gaze, trying to find the words that have been building since he walked out of this room. “You were right,” I say quietly.
His body tenses under my hands.
I swallow, forcing the rest out before I lose it. “I shouldn’t have gone out. I shouldn’t have pushed you.” My fingers curl slightly into his shirt, gripping without meaning to. “You told me it wasn’t safe and I—” I shake my head, the words coming faster now, tighter. “I didn’t listen. I thought I knew better. I thought I could just… go back to normal for a night and it would be fine.”
His hold on me tightens. Not enough to hurt. Enough to ground me.
“I shouldn’t have gone outside,” I continue, the words rushing now, spilling over each other. “I should’ve stayed where you could see me. I should’ve—”
“Stop.” The word cuts through everything. Low. Sharp. Final.
I freeze. My heart is pounding too fast, my thoughts tripping over themselves, but I look up at him anyway.
He’s already looking down at me. His jaw is tight. Eyes darker than they were a second ago. “You don’t get to put that on yourself,” he says.
I blink. “But—”
“No.” His voice drops further, harder now. “You don’t blame yourself for the monsters in this world.”
The words hit harder than anything I just said. I swallow, my throat suddenly tight. “I should’ve listened to you.”
“You made a choice,” he replies. “They made one too.” There’s something dangerous in the way he says that. Something colder. “You going out didn’t put a knife in your throat,” he continues. “Them deciding to do that did.”
My chest rises sharply with a breath I didn’t realize I was holding. I shake my head anyway. “I just… I can’t stop hearing it.”
His hands still. Not pulling away. Not loosening.
“The voice,” I say, my words quieter now, like saying them too loud will bring it back. “In the alley.”
Something in him goes rigid. Completely. “What voice?” he asks. There’s no softness in the question. No room to soften it.
I hesitate for half a second, and then I say it anyway. “He said…” I close my eyes briefly, hearing it again whether I want to or not. “I bet you thought that dumbass biker could keep you safe.”
