Chapter 49 #3
His arms clutch around me tighter, desperate, and I don’t let go.
I hold him through it all, through every wave of tears until his sobs quiet into hiccups, until exhaustion drags him under.
And I carry him up to the bedroom. He falls asleep wound around me, clinging like I’m the only thing tethering him, and I don’t move.
***
Hours pass with him asleep in my arms, his face pressed into me, his breath soft and steady against my chest. He looks peaceful, and I’m grateful that his sleep isn’t haunted.
My hand runs slowly through his hair as I stare up at the ceiling, thoughts circling, heavy and sharp.
My fingers drift, brushing along the curve of his ear, and my chest tightens.
I’d removed his hearing aids as soon as I had laid him on the bed.
Now, as my fingers trace his ears carefully, delicately, I feel him stir.
He shifts faintly, body tensing before he exhales and softens again.
He’s Awake. I know it by the rhythm of his breathing.
He doesn’t speak, and neither do I. I let the silence sit, safe and warm, knowing he needs it.
After a long while, I shift. Carefully, I ease him back from my chest and hover above him—not crushing, just close enough to cage him in, close enough to look at him.
His cheeks are still flushed from earlier tears, but now there’s a blush warming them. His eyes flick up to mine before darting away, his face turning like he’s too shy, too raw to let me see him, like the weight of my gaze might undo him again.
I don’t let him hide. My hand finds his jaw, slow, careful, tilting his face back until his eyes meet mine. His lashes flutter, his lips part, but whatever words linger there die before they can leave him.
God, everything about him is so fucking beautiful.
So fragile, and yet unbreakable. Five days without him felt like drowning, like walking through air too thin to breathe.
The bed was cold, the house empty, every second dragging like a knife.
But now that he’s here in my bed, my space, my arms, I swear I’ll never let him go again. I won’t put us through that pain again.
“Stop looking at me like that,” he mumbles, voice barely above a whisper, his hands twitch, like he wants to cover his face, but I catch them before he can.
He opens his mouth, hesitates, then closes it again, trapping his bottom lip between his teeth. I raise a brow, waiting, but he just shakes his head, eyes darting away like the words are too heavy to speak.
Gently, I free his lip from his teeth with my thumb, tracing the soft curve of it. He shudders beneath the touch, his breath catching, and when his eyes meet mine again, there’s a thousand emotions swirling there—longing, sadness, exhaustion, something deeper I can’t even name.
I kiss his forehead, slow and lingering. Then his cheeks. Then the tip of his nose. Each touch is a promise that I’m here, that he’s safe, that the world can’t touch him as long as I’m holding him.
That’s when his stomach betrays him with a loud, sudden grumble.
My brow lifts, and when I look at him, his face is painted with sheepish embarrassment. His blush deepens, and despite the heaviness of everything, it tugs a quiet smile out of me.
“Sorry,” he murmurs, voice small but honest. His eyes flick up, meeting mine with a vulnerability that squeezes my chest. “But I’m… really, really hungry.”
The words are simple, almost fragile. I pull back just a little, and for a moment, I just watch him breathe, watch him come back to himself, and my heart aches with tenderness that he’s asking for something as simple as food despite everything that happened earlier.
I reach over to the nightstand, grab his hearing aids, and hand them to him gently. He takes them, fumbling a little before sliding them into place. I wait until he blinks a few times, adjusting to the faint hum of sound returning.
“I can order from that restaurant you like,” I say once I see him settle. “Or do you want sushi instead?”
He shakes his head, his voice still small but clearer now. “None of them.”
I study him, tilting my head. His expression is quiet, but there’s a softness in it that makes my chest ache.
“You want me to cook for you?” I ask softly
His eyes lift to mine, and there’s a spark in them I haven’t seen ever since he got here. Not joy, not entirely, but a lightness, like the weight pressing down on him has shifted just a little. His lips part, and he nods.
“Yes… please.”
Something warm unfurls in my chest, tightening and softening all at once. He doesn’t even know what that does to me—that this boy who barely lets anyone close finds comfort in my hands, my food, my care.
“Alright then,” I say, and before he can protest, I slip an arm under his back and another under his legs, scooping him up in one smooth motion.
He gasps, startled, but he doesn’t push me away. Instead, his arms loop around my neck, and he buries his face into the curve of it, his breath ghosting hot against my skin.
I press a kiss against his temple as I hold him closer. “Let’s go make something for you to eat.”