Fucked #2
Dom grips his elbows, arms crossed tightly over his chest, and I realize it’s because he’s scared to put his hands on me.
Scared to hurt me again. It makes my heart ache, and I shift to sit on the bed beside him, tossing one end of the quilt out to cover his shoulders.
I don’t take his hand or touch his knee, not wanting to push him, but I press against his side.
I don’t want him to be afraid to touch me.
He trembles but doesn’t pull away. The silence between us stretches, but it takes me a moment to wrap my head around all he’s said. I can almost feel the dread rolling off of him as he waits for my response.
The way he talks about his magic makes it sound like it’s... alive. But magic isn’t some wild thing. Every text, every book in the library says that magic is an energy to be channeled. And yet I can’t explain away the presence of the burns on my wrists.
Finally, I ask, “What happened in the silver, Dom?”
He opens his mouth, but it’s like he can’t find the words.
“I-I don’t even know how to describe it.
” He swallows, eyes unfocused as if he’s seeing something very far away.
“It... felt like I’d gone mad. I-I saw things I can’t explain.
Heard things that I can’t forget. It felt like I’d brushed against Quietus and saw what lay after. ”
A chill rushes through me. Quietus is what everyone east of Cairish calls death. A deity, an entire realm unto itself. But what could possibly lay after death?
“But that’s the silver, right? It’s supposed to fuck with your head,” Dom says with a humorless laugh. “What I can’t wrap my head around is what happened after I got out.”
My stomach twists as he gets to his feet, as if he just can’t stand to stay still. “What happened?”
Dom lets out a shuddering breath as he presses his palms against his eyes. “When I got the silver off me, Thaddius was there. He was coming to help me, and I just...”
“Just, what?”
“I was so fucking scared and angry. It was like I wasn’t me anymore. Like something else had slipped under my skin, and I just...” He swears, teeth grit as his hands tighten in his hair. “I attacked him. I wanted to - to hurt him. I did hurt him even if he won’t say it. And now I’ve hurt you, too.”
He falls quiet, his gaze unfocused as he stares blankly ahead. He looks so lost, and I push my own roiling emotions aside as I stand to meet him.
“Dom, look at me.”
He lets out a shuddering breath before he pulls his gaze to me. His red-rimmed eyes are full of fear, and when I go to grab his hands, he tries to shy away. I don’t let him as I step forward, pressing my lips to his.
He freezes, a strange shiver rushing through him. Yet something in him relaxes before he slowly, cautiously lifts his hands to cup my face. I drape my arms behind his neck, heedless of my burned wrists. I don’t let him pull away even as our lips part.
“Thank you for telling me,” I say quietly. I don’t want to discount how difficult this must have been for him, but a part of me is hurt that he let me hold onto this guilt for so long. “I understand why you didn’t, but you could have saved me a lot of grief by telling me sooner.”
Dom winces, his eyes pinching shut. “I-I know. I was afraid.”
“And now? Are you still afraid?” I ask gently.
He lets out a long, shuddering breath as he nods. “I don’t know what to do. I haven’t gone into the silver in months, and yet I-I’m hearing things, seeing things that aren’t there.”
“Dom, you went through hell and back at the Tower,” I say gently.
He shakes his head. “What if it’s been happening since before the Tower?”
Fear tangles around my heart. “When?”
He can’t seem to meet my eye. “Right after I left. A woman approached me at the back of the caravan. Told me to go home.” He shakes his head, brows knit with frustration.
“I-I thought it was a dream, but it happened again on the road. Was even stronger in Laodeiros. And when I was trapped in the silver at the Tower... I could almost feel whatever was saying it. Like it was just barely out of reach.”
I stay quiet, afraid to say anything that will make him stop. Dom swears as he buries his face against my neck. “And now, I am home, but it’s only getting louder. I dream it, hear it all the time, even when I’m awake.”
The fear in his voice wraps around my heart and squeezes. It’s no wonder he thinks he’s losing his mind. Some small, fearful part of me even wonders if he’s right.
He seems to read my thoughts as he pulls back, that tension resting in his shoulders again. His voice is hollow as he asks, “Do you think I’m crazy?”
All at once, I realize why he’s been reluctant to talk about the Tower. Everything he’s told me has been a leap of faith to believe but... I do. The proof is burned around my wrists.
“No, love. I don’t know what you’re experiencing, but madness isn’t it.”
Yet even as I say it, I realize something. Each new impossibility he tells me slots cleanly into the thoughts I’ve had about him since he first started at the Crux.
Everyone, everyone has an adjustment period when starting to learn magic, but not Dom.
He dove into it like a fish into water. Everyone struggles with certain schools, has limits they won’t cross, but not Dom.
His only fault is that he can fall into a spell too deeply - deeper than anyone I’ve ever seen.
The thought has crossed my mind before, but the burns on my wrists put it into a new light. It’s like Dom was made to do magic.
“You’re an incredible sort of wizard, Dom.”
He lets out a shuddering breath. “Wish that wasn’t true. I could stand to be... just a normal kind of wizard.”
I gently lead him back to the bed, and he follows me without protest as I push him to sit. Then, I go to grab the healer’s kit from his closet. His spells are tucked away in the back, hanging from a hook on the wall, but as I look them over, there’s not a darkened spell among them.
The mystery of where that magic came from won’t get solved tonight, but I tuck it in the back of my mind before I open the healer’s kit. I’m no beginner at dealing with casting room mishaps, so I make quick work of putting burn salve over my blistered wrists.
Dom comes to help, grabbing a roll of clean bandages that he carefully wraps around my wrists. His fingers are gentle as he ties the bandages, his warm hand squeezing mine when he’s finished.
“What do you want to do, love?” I ask as I study his face.
He lets out a long breath before saying, “I want to try to go back to sleep, but it doesn’t feel right to ask you to stay with me.”
I hum before I push him back to the bed. “I’ve given myself worse burns on accident. I’m not afraid.”
“Olbric -”
“Hush,” I say gently as I join him, dragging the rumpled quilt up to cover us both.
Dom looks at me, his eyes wide and pleading. “What if it happens again? I-I don’t want to hurt you.”
My hand presses against his chest before I lean forward to deliver a gentle kiss. “You would be hard-pressed to hurt me in a way that wasn’t welcome. I know the risks, and I’m staying anyway. Sleep,” I order gently.
Dom searches my face, his brow pinched with worry, but I smooth it away as I catch his lips again.
I make this one linger, exploring his mouth with my tongue before I nibble his lower lip gently.
He lets out a long sigh, his body slowly relaxing.
When I finally pull back, I don’t go far as I nestle against his chest.
I doze to the feeling of his fingers stroking through my hair, my blinks getting longer and longer. Yet when my eyes flicker open sometime later, I’m alone in his bed, and the spot he had occupied has long gone cold.