Chapter 25
Vincent
Charlie – I had to remember that’s what he preferred to be called – ate almost half of the serving in the bowl. It was better than I expected. I mentally made a note to make a protein shake later for him.
“Would you like to get cleaned up?” I stood from the chair slowly.
I had a feeling the last time Charlie got a shower was the day he left this house, which was close to a week. If he wasn’t up to taking a bath, a wet warm cloth would work for now until he was ready.
He nodded. It was a tiny tip of his head, but an answer all the same.
I beamed, hoping that my emotions would encourage Charlie to show more of his. Relax him, too.
I knew the road to earning his trust would be a long one. One I was willing to work and wait on for however long I needed to.
“I’ll get the water going, then I can help you if you need it.”
“Okay, Sir.” A soft reply passed his lips.
I glanced at him one more time before heading towards the bathroom. He didn’t hold himself so tight, his shoulders slightly more relaxed than when I had first walked into this room.
His eyes were shadowed in dark circles, hiding his youthful face. But with time, that would fade. I’d make sure of it.
I ran the bath, letting the Epsom salts dissolve into the water, steam curling up in soft ribbons. I placed soap, towels, and a clean washcloth within reach.
I stood for a moment, scanning the setup, making sure I hadn’t missed anything. Then I returned to the room. Charlie was just easing himself off the bed. I stopped in the doorway, every instinct screaming to close the distance and carry him the rest of the way.
But I didn’t. He needed to move on his own. Even if it costs him.
His feet touched the floor, slow and uncertain. Each step looked like it took everything he had—like gravity was heavier for him than it was for the rest of us.
When he reached me, I slipped an arm around his waist, steadying him.
“Let me help you,” I said quietly.
He didn’t pull away, nor did he lean into me like the other times when he was so out of it.
I guided him into the bathroom slowly, one arm steady around his waist. The steam had already filled the space, curling around us like a veil. The salts had melted into the water, softening the air with something faintly herbal.
Charlie hesitated at the edge of the tub. His eyes flicked to the water, then to me.
I didn’t rush him. I stood beside the tub, hands open, voice low. “I’ve got you,” I said. “We’ll go slow.”
He nodded—barely. Eyes wide, mind spinning with thoughts that he wasn’t ready to speak out loud.
With a tighter grip on my hand, he lifted one leg, then the other, into the water.
His skin was marked, bruises blooming like old ink, the carved V still angry on his shoulder. I didn’t look away. I didn’t let the decorations grow the fury that was simmering underneath my skin.
He winced as the heat touched him, but didn’t pull back.
I held his hand until he was seated, knees drawn up, arms wrapped around himself.
Then I sat beside the tub, silent. Not watching. Just present. Because sometimes, presence was the only thing that didn’t hurt.
The silences bloomed, letting him relax as the water reached close to the top. I reached over, turning off the taps, the bathroom growing almost too quiet.
“Would you like me to wash you down? Or do you prefer to do it?”
Charlie's eyes flashed open, like he hadn’t realized they had slipped closed. He tilted his head at me, the question bouncing around his head.
I waited him out. Well, I tried to.
After two full minutes had passed, he shrugged his shoulders as though he couldn’t read what I wanted of him.
Grabbing the cloth that sat on the top of the pile of towels, I dipped it into the warm water. Then, I coated it with body wash before handing it over to Charlie. Who, in turn, just stared at it for half a minute before slowly, ever so slowly, reaching out to take it.
Then, his eyes bounced from me to the rag, like he didn’t know how to use it.
Had he ever had a bath before?
I gave him a soft smile, standing to get another washrag. I did the same thing, wetting it and soaping it up before slowly taking it across the back of his neck and shoulders.
“I’ll do your back; you do your front.”
Finally, as I dipped the rag into the water and let the water trail over his back, he began to wash his front. His movements were unsure, jerky in spots.
“I used to give my brother, Micha, a bath. I’d helped my mom wash him down.
He’d be a lot more wiggly than you are right now.
He’d make a mess all over the floor, and I’d have to be quick to clean it up so Father didn’t notice.
” I talked as I ran the cloth gently over the dried blood on his back, letting it wash away.
“Micha loved baths.” He loved many things, and I missed those moments.
“We…don’t get baths.” His voice cracked, but he got the word out anyway.
“That’s a shame. Baths are relaxing.” I thought so, anyway.
“It’s….nice?” Well, at least he wasn’t unhappy about being in one, so that was a plus.
“Can I wash your hair?” I asked after a bit. “Or you can, if you want.”
“You, Sir.” He didn’t look at me as he answered, but his voice was even.
There were so many things I could tell him. Like how I enjoyed giving another a bath like this. Like how I didn’t mind baths myself, liking the idea of an Omega, my Omega, to wash me from head to toe. Then I’d return the pleasure of it to them.
It wasn’t the time.
Instead, I instructed him to lean his head back a bit before running a cup of water over his hair. I loathed my hands with shampoo before running the suds through his hair, washing away the sweat and grime that had collected over the last few days.
Charlie hummed before catching himself and then stilling. I ignored it, not drawing attention to it.
In time, he’d learn that his noises were okay to make. I wanted to hear him.
I wanted to know him, inside and out.
After washing the soap off, the water, a milky brown color, helped him to stand and get out of the tub. He nearly fell forward, his foot hitting the side as he stepped over the rim.
“What’s your favorite flower?” I asked, taking a towel to collect the dots of water that trickled down his skin.
“Sunflowers.” The answer didn’t take long to come out, like maybe that’s what he was thinking about.
“Why those?” I trailed the towel up one leg, then down the other, before standing once more and doing the same to his arms.
“They’re free.”
So are you, I thought. But even those words were a lie. Omegas weren’t free. They had to be tied to an Alpha to have any rights, and even then, the Alphas had all the control over everything.
There would be people, mostly the government, who viewed Omegas as nothing but worthless spaces in society. They were nothing but pretty things to be used. I wanted to believe things would shift. That time would soften the edges.
But it wouldn’t be soon. Still, I’d give him whatever freedom I could.
“It’s too late in the season to plant anything now,” I said, gently toweling off his hair. “But come spring, you can line the trees with rows of them. As many as you want.”
He hesitated, then nodded. “If… yes, Sir.” There was a flicker of a smile, small, tired, but real.
I kept drying his hair, careful not to tug, getting as much water as I could without rushing him.
“Adrian’s waiting in the room,” I said, hearing the soft shuffle of feet and the occasional clink of something being set down. “He’ll help you dress before he heads out with his Alpha.”
Charlie nodded again, slower this time. His energy was fading fast. But he was still here.
Once again, I helped Charlie move out of the bathroom, one step at a time. He leaned on me more than he had before, his warmth soaking into my arm.
I stayed near the doorway, towel still damp in my hands, watching as Adrian moved around the room with quiet purpose, Charlie leaning against me before taking the first step away, unattended without me.
He didn’t speak at first, just laid out clothes on the edge of the bed, soft cotton, nothing that would irritate the healing skin.
Charlie sat on the mattress, shoulders slumped, eyes half-lidded with exhaustion.
Adrian knelt beside him, not touching yet. Just waiting.
I saw the hesitation in Charlie’s posture, the way his fingers curled into the blanket like he needed something to hold onto.
Adrian didn’t rush him. He simply said, “Can I help?”
Charlie nodded, barely. And Adrian moved slowly, narrating each step, lifting the shirt, guiding his arms through the sleeves, smoothing the fabric down with care.
For a moment, I didn’t feel the need to intervene.
Charlie didn’t flinch. Didn’t brace. He let Adrian help. And I stood there, watching the smallest kind of healing unfold in front of me.
It was a start.
Adrian pressed a kiss to Charlie’s head before tucking him into bed. Charlie, looking so small and lost in the world, curled up on the side that would be forever his, blanket pulled up to his chin, and breathed in deep.
“I’ll be back tomorrow. Moore says I can stay while he’s at work. We can make a day of it. Lots of movies to watch. Maybe some time outside.”
“Okay.” Charlie’s eyes fought to stay open, but there was life there. Hope, even.
A huge improvement to the lifeless look he had the last few days.
“We’ll have the best lazy day ever.” Adrian shot me a look over his shoulder that was harder to read than normal.
“Just don’t overwhelm him.” I wanted my Omega to rest; to heal. I could share, at least for a lazy day around the house.