Chapter 9 Damien #2
I stare at the back of his head, at the hair he still dyes blue, and I think about all the nights I’ve spent wishing I could go back and undo everything. But wishing doesn’t do shit. There’s nothing I can say that won’t sound hollow when he’s still carrying four years of silence.
I close the gap between us and step in front of him before I can talk myself out of it.
My hands come up, cupping his face, thumbs sweeping gently against his jaw.
His skin is cold from the night air, but his cheeks are hot, flushed with anger or embarrassment.
There’s a shake in his breath, and my own heart stutters in response.
“I know I don’t get to ask for forgiveness,” I whisper. “I don’t even deserve this moment, let alone five more minutes. But I didn’t leave because of you.” I bite the already torn inside of my cheek again, searching his eyes for a flicker of belief. “You were—you still are—the best person I know.”
He looks up at me with those mismatched eyes that used to make my chest ache and still do, but now it’s worse. I can clearly see all the cracks I left in him. I can feel how hard he’s trying not to cry.
“Mien—”
“I missed you every single day I was gone. Every single fucking day, I woke up wishing I didn’t leave,” I swallow, the lump in my throat almost too big to get around. “I missed your voice. Your laugh. The way you used to look at me. I missed you, Blue.”
He inhales sharply, the sound gutting me all over again.
“But I was a coward,” I admit, because he deserves the truth even if it ruins me. “I stayed away because I thought that was better than breaking you. But I swear to you, I never meant to hurt you.”
His brow furrows, and he stares at me as if he’s trying to find a lie in there somewhere, trying to dissect the parts that might be excuses.
I don’t blame him. I’d do the same if I were in his shoes.
He’s spent four years trying to understand why I left, and all I’ve given him so far is half-truths and silence.
“I don’t get it,” he says finally.
I lower my hands, but not all the way—one thumb tracing gently over the pulse at his neck. “I know, and I’m sorry. I know my reasons aren’t enough right now, and I know it doesn’t fix anything. One day, if you’ll let me, I’ll explain everything. All of it.”
He opens his mouth, and I know he wants to push for the truth, but I can’t give it. Not yet. Not without risking him.
“I’m sorry,” I say instead, as if those two words could wipe it all away. “I know that’s not enough, and I know it’s too late, but I am so fucking sorry for leaving, Blue.”
He nods, but I know it’s going to take more than that. And when he steps away from me and leans forward slightly, resting his arms on the railing again, I do the same.
Close but not touching. Two ghosts sharing the same deck, trying to relearn the shape of each other in silence.
My chest is still burning, raw from words I shouldn’t have said and truths I still can’t give. I let myself watch him openly, seeing all the small ways he’s changed and all the ways he’s still the boy I left behind.
He’s biting his lower lip, that nervous habit he picked up when he was fifteen and never managed to break. I know he’s not okay, but he’s trying. He’s still here, still letting me stand close, even though I’ve given him every reason to turn away.
“I still hate parties,” he mumbles, voice half-lost in the night air. “Too loud. Too many people talking at once, and everyone always stares.”
The honesty in his voice almost floors me. For a second, I want to reach for him again, tuck a hand behind his neck, pull him in, and let him hide. But I keep my hands to myself. I have to earn it if I’m ever going to get to have it again.
I manage a quiet laugh, the sound coming out rough. “Because of your eyes?”
He shrugs, staring at the dark lawn. “That’s part of it. People say they’re pretty, but it’s not a compliment when it feels like I’m on display.”
A sharp, protective anger flares up in my chest, but I tamp it down.
“They are pretty, but I get it. You used to disappear into the garage during your mom’s fundraisers.
I’d have to go looking for you, but I’d always find you curled up behind those boxes with your headphones on, pretending you couldn’t hear me calling. ”
He smiles at that, and it’s his genuine smile. I let myself take it in, memorizing the shape of it, the way his mouth curves, the way it makes his eyes go brighter for a second.
“I still do,” he says, voice warmer now. He glances over at me, the tension in his shoulders easing just a little. “Hide, I mean. Not always the garage, but… wherever I can find a place to breathe.”
A beat passes, his hand moving just a little closer to mine on the rail. Then, softer than before, he asks, “You want to hide with me?”
I look at him, and for a moment, I forget to breathe. It’s the first olive branch he’s offered since I saw him again, the first crack in all the armor he’s built since I left. And god, I want to take it.
I’d follow him anywhere, even if it’s only to the quietest corner of his world, just for the chance to be let in again. Even if I have to keep the rest of the story locked behind my teeth for now, I’d follow him.
Every time.