Chapter 20
Sevastyan
I can’t find a comfortable position. My flesh stings constantly, and only the cool compresses make it all bearable. A soft voice soothes the pangs inside me, and the movement of the bed when another body settles next to me proves I might not be dying on my own.
Drifting in and out of consciousness, I’m like a boat in the middle of the ocean.
Aimless.
Broken.
Lost.
I might sink at any moment, but the light beckons me closer, and when my eyes finally open to a blurry world, I’m in the panic room. Alone.
My chest empties as I blink, attempting to clear my vision, but even once that happens, I see no trace of Victor.
Is the sharp sting in my chest disappointment, or were my lungs damaged by the fire?
I can’t even remember how I got here, but considering how much everything hurts, Victor might have dragged me here as his last favor.
I suppose I should be glad I’m not yet being arrested .
A sob builds in my aching chest when I recall the devastation in my studio, the burning paintings, sketches going up in smoke. My phone is probably gone too, so any photos I had of Victor, the only tangible memories of his presence in my life, are lost forever.
Like he was never here at all.
I should be glad I’m alive instead of accepting these waves of sorrow, but it’s hard to be glad of anything when I’m in so much pain. Something taps against plastic, and when the noise doesn’t relent, I force my eyes open, looking for the source.
A moan escapes my mouth at the sight of Ratimir watching me from his cage, but as much as I want to touch him and feel his soft nose against flesh, I can’t bring myself to move yet.
Guilt immediately sets in, because he might have worried seeing me lying here like a corpse.
He and I are a team. He brought Victor to me, and if it wasn’t for him, my life here would have been excruciatingly empty.
It’s only fair that I take care of him too.
I flinch when the heavy metal door opens abruptly. My eyelids are swollen, but I can just about see… Victor. His ginger mane is unmistakable. He’s got some kind of tray in his hands, and smiles at me softly .
This must be a dream.
I should say something, even if his presence here is a figment of my imagination, but my painfully dry throat constricts, and I roll to my side, coughing and moaning from the pain of it.
“I know, my darling, I know,” Victor says and scoots toward the bed with a cup. The straw attached to it slides between my lips. “Drink some water for now. You don’t have to speak if you don’t feel ready. I got some soft bread with jam you can chew on.”
I’d be greedy for any liquid, and the cool water feels like nectar, soothing my aching insides. It’s only now that the headache really hits me too. I must be dehydrated, but as Victor places his hand on the edge of the bed, I reach for it.
My skin stings from the movement, and I stall at the sight of bandages covering every bit of flesh on show, but I still touch him, seeking the warmth of another body, the proof that he’s still here, that he didn’t use his opportunity to run.
Victor smiles and strokes me so gently it’s like being touched by a passing kitten. “It’s okay, I’m here for you. Do you need the bucket?”
I now vaguely recall I’ve woken up before. And that I’ve peed into a bucket he’s cleaned more than once. I think I also vomited at some point. Even as dazed as I still am, I’m hit by a truckload of embarrassment.
This isn’t how I want my partner to see me. And why would he do any of that labour in the first place? I trapped him here. I destroyed his chances for an artistic career, even if unintentionally.
Why is he still here?
“I’m sorry...”
He kneels by the bed, holding the cup for me so I can have another sip. “What for? Do you need more painkillers?” Victor strokes my leg through the thick blanket. At least it helps me realize that I’m not burned there.
“That you have to do... this,” I whisper, coughing when my lips fill with a coppery flavor. “You stayed?”
“Of course. I said you can trust me,” he says, but there is no trace of reproach in his voice. Only softness. I don’t know if I deserve such kindness, but I’m in no position to say no.
I nod. “How long since—”
“It’s been four days. I know it’s hard to tell without windows.”
Four days.
Four days he’s been feeding and watering me, and cleaning up after me. He doesn’t deserve this. That is not the life I promised him before the attack left me incapacitated and my studio—
“The paintings,” I say sharply, moving so fast the skin on my bandaged chest stings. But my legs are fine. Surely I can—
I stumble as soon as my feet hit the floor and I try to get up, but Victor is there, right at my side, holding me up. His face no longer holds a smile.
“I know. It’s… a travesty, what’s been done. Maybe you should rest more until you assess the damage. I moved everything that was salvageable to the living room. Some of the sketchbooks were in drawers, so they didn’t even get all that wet.”
But I need to know. Now that my mind’s back from the sea of nothingness it has floated in for the better part of the week, I can’t just stay uncertain.
“So it’s bad. But not all was lost... right?
” I ask, attempting to get up, but the moment my knees straighten, the inside of my skull fills with spiraling lead, and I collapse back to the bed.
“Fuck...” I mumble when my injured arm gets trapped under my body, but Victor is there to help. It doesn’t make the pain any better.
“Not all, but…” Victor won’t look into my eyes.
A part of me still can’t believe he’s here, that I’m not all alone in this mess, but the persistent fear over my work takes over.
“Most of the large canvases are at least damaged. Some burned completely and there was nothing to salvage, including the one you were working on.”
A wave of emotion crashes into me, and no matter how desperately I cling to its surface, trying to ride it rather than sink, I’m so very weak.
Somehow, the agony of knowing that so many of the works I chose to keep rather than exhibit, because of their personal value are gone forever is so much worse than the physical pain from the burns.
A sob leaves my aching throat, and I slump forward, feeling it gush out of me along with the blood somewhere in my stinging throat.
I shouldn’t cry.
This moment of weakness is embarrassing enough, but the wave of grief dwarfs me, and I can’t come up for air.
Victor is right at my side, trying to soothe me with his gentle touch. As if I’m a child, not a man who’s handled life on his own for years.
“I know, I know…” he coos, kissing the bandage on my face. “At least those who did it got what they deserved. I’ve got your phone, so we have a lot of the photos of it all.”
That’s good news, but I’m still sobbing, pathetically perched on the edge of the bed while Victor attempts to soothe me. “The bodies... do they need to be moved?” I mumble, hoping the change of topic will tamper this sentimental breakdown.
Victor clears his throat. “I got rid of them all. Just the guy in the spikes, he… he’s heavy, and I couldn’t pull him off, so I locked the floor there for now.
You must have done the seal very well, because it doesn’t smell.
The police came to ask about the explosion, but I managed to talk them out of even coming in.
I apologized that it was one of the painting chemicals stored incorrectly and they swallowed that with no issue. ”
He… talked to the police ? And instead of turning me in as a killer and abductor, Victor covered my tracks? Disposed of the bodies? Cleaned the mess and took care of me while I was unconscious?
“Why?” I ask softly .
“What do you mean? I needed to make sure they don’t come in.”
Is the sex really that good?
I mean yes, it was amazing, but—
“You don’t hate me anymore,” I fill in, swallowing, because the meaning behind his presence sinks in even before he answers.
He likes it here.
He likes... me.
“What? Seva…” His eyes meet mine with so much intensity it’s as though he’s burrowing inside my soul.
“Of course I don’t. I… I love you. It might sound crazy to you, but I know it.
You turned my life upside down, but for the better.
When I’m with you, things that used to be black and white appear in Technicolor.
I didn’t even know I was the one dead inside before I met you. I don’t need anyone else. Only you.”
A heavy weight settles on my chest, because all I want is to pull him close. Do I love him too? Will I in the future? Such things were never on the horizon, and I buried them so deep that now, faced with a declaration so pure and honest, it seems any response might spoil it.
But I want him to be happy.
I want him safe.
And he can’t be for as long as he remains at my side.
“You should...think of your future. My enemies will come for me, and next time you might be the one who gets hurt.”
“I don’t care,” he says matter-of-factly, once more kissing my face through the bandage. “This is what I want. There is no one more precious to me in this world. There is no future for me outside of you.”
My heart beats faster as if trying to tell me what my brain cannot process. Just like he was obsessed with his delusional revenge, he is now obsessed with me alone, and I can’t deny how enticing his intensity is. I’ve never met anyone more passionate, filled with more fire.
I don’t get to answer, because a phone rings and Victor gets up to grab it.
“It’s your agent. Do you want to talk to him?”
That sounds like the last fucking thing on my to-do list, so I shake my head and glare at my bandaged hands. How bad are my injuries, really? Will I even be able to hold a brush again?
To my bewilderment, Victor answers my phone, and starts talking to my agent as if they’ve already gotten acquainted.