Landon
THE WAREHOUSE SMELLS OF dirt and blood as I cry out, my body shaking against the blunt force of the steel rod.
But I won’t, and I think they know that. I think they know torturing me is pointless, yet they’re enjoying it anyway.
“S-stop,” I plead, but my coercion has been forced down into the pit of my stomach, and I can’t access it.
“You know what to say to make it stop,” Boston chimes in just before his fist connects with my jaw.
“Tell us, or I’m bringing in backup,” Joseph informs me, and I glare, unwilling to show them weakness. To give in.
They can have my blood if they want it, but I won’t surrender anything else.
“Very well,” Cecilia says calmly. “Bring him in.”
Him? Why does that sound terrifying? Who are they hiding behind these dusty shelves?
I need to hold out. Someone is coming; I know plenty of people who would come to my rescue. My family, the police, and Nate.
“Landon.”
I must have conjured him from the depths of my mind, because that’s Nate’s voice, isn’t it?
But he’s not smiling at me. He’s not acting like a hero. NO, he’s holding a gun, resting the muzzle against my forehead.
“Nate?” I whisper, yanking at my restraints. “What are you doing?”
“Where is he?” Nate demands, and I shrink into the chair.
He looks beautiful, even now, but he doesn’t look like my Nate. No, he looks like that man I first met in the Chastain Castle kitchen. He looks resentful and annoyed.
“Don’t do this. You love me,” I whimper.
And Nate grins, something evil and sick as he cocks the gun. “Oh, do I?”
In a violent flash of pain, a shot rings out, and everything goes black.
I scream, shooting up in the bed as my body trembles and sweat drips down my neck. Oh, fuck. That one was bad.
That… that was a dream, right?
I peer around the room, finding myself still in Nate’s house. Our house.
Strong, calloused fingers wrap around my hand, and I flinch. My gaze snaps to the left, finding Nate blinking up at me with concerned, sleeping eyes.
“You alright?” he murmurs, yanking me back down until I’m on my side, facing him.
“Yeah, s-sorry,” I breathe out, shoving myself impossibly closer.
The dreams never leave me. I may be adjusting to my new life as a powerless loser, but the memories of that warehouse? They haunt me. Almost every night.
Nate hums, his fingers gliding through my hair as fog begins to coat the comforter pulled over us. My stars return, the rest of the room blacking out as I’m thrust back into that endless night.
“Here you go, sweet baby,” Nate says, his voice thick with sleep and something soft and kind.
I sigh, my trembling body finally starting to calm as the warmth of the stars sprinkles down onto me and the smell of Nate’s skin overcomes my senses.
“Does it ever get tiring?” I whisper, suddenly feeling a bit guilty for the lengths he has to go to just to keep me from falling apart. “Using illusion, I mean.”
Nate shifts, pulling me over his chest so that I can lie on his back. He looks more awake now, staring up at me in confusion.
“Keeping you safe and happy?” he asks. “No. It never gets tiring. Do you want to know what does?”
My brows furrow, and I peer down at him as I say, “What does?”
“You hogging the blankets. It’s fucking annoying.”
This earns a chuckle from me, and I drop my head to rest against his chest. Truth is, Nate steals the blankets, not me. But I don’t comment on it; instead, I burrow in closer and listen to his heartbeat.
Ba-dum, ba-dum, ba-dum.
It belongs to me now, this heart. And mine is his.
“Thank you,” I murmur, feeling his strong arms wrap around me.
“Sleep now, sweet baby. We can bitch at each other in the morning,” Nate replies.
And I do want to sleep. I want Nate to sleep.
But my mind… It’s reeling.
“In my dream, I could feel it,” I admit softly. “I could feel my coercion. And now, I feel… nothing.”
My eyes are becoming wet with tears, my throat hot and tight.
“Yeah?” Nate prompts.
“Yeah. It was right there, shoved down into my stomach, but still there.”
It’s silent for a moment, with just the two of us breathing in the star-filled room. But then Nate flips us, laying his body over mine like a comforting weighted blanket.
“Landon,” he says firmly, rubbing his fingertips through my hair and dragging it from my forehead. “You’ve endured so much. I can’t even imagine how cruel this new reality must feel. I see that, and I see you. But listen to what I’m about to say, alright? Listen and feel it.”
He waits, as if needing my acknowledgement to continue, so I nod, eyes wide and heart thundering.
Then, he says, “You are not shouldering this alone. Every day, for the rest of our lives, I will take half of the pain you carry and wear it as my own. I will shoulder the grief of what you’ve lost and the imbalance in your brain, and I will consider the task a privilege. Want to know why?”
My breath is caught in my throat, so as I reply, “Why?” it sounds shattered and a million miles away.
“Because it means you’re with me. Because that pain? It leads me back to you.”
His fingers rub at my skin, his body so warm and safe against mine. Nate is offering me a lifetime of never being alone again, right here on a silver platter. And I… I feel so lucky.
In the midst of his own anger and his own trauma, he is choosing to bear mine as well. One day, though I don’t know when, Nate woke up and chose me. Over all of his beliefs and all of his morals, he chose me.
We are two vicious, lonely men who were too restless to breathe easily. We watched the world pass by, experiencing everyone else’s happy endings while anticipating an end that didn’t offer us ours.
But not anymore. Because now, my pain leads him back to me, and his anger brings me to him.
The things that trouble us the most have become our anchor, a life raft. And I wouldn’t trade that for anything. Not coercion, and not a brain that functions properly.
I’d rather be a vicious beast with him, covered in starlight and primed for a fight. I’d rather that than any illusion of peace I could be gifted.
And isn’t that a wonderful revelation?