36 #2
For some reason those words summon the plane and the flight of terror. A different set of words with the same meaning.
Stay with me. That’s all you need to do right now. Just… stay. With me.
All this time I’ve been nursing the fury and the fear, but they were the same ones pulling at him.
I bend closer, forehead brushing his. And in that moment, I wonder if those chains are the only thing holding him together.
Shifting back onto my heels, my gaze stays fixed on him – on the man who believes iron makes him safe. On the man who thinks he’s too broken to be loved. Then I lower my eyes to the camera still hanging from my neck.
I may not be able to explain the difference to him. But perhaps I can make him see where it happened.
‘Can I show you something?’ I whisper, lifting the display and turning it to face him. My thumb grazes the rewind button.
The small screen throws pale light across his face. ‘This is not proof that it was right,’ I note quietly as I push back through the clip. ‘Though there are many truths in here. Ones I didn’t notice myself at the time.’
I roll the frame back to the beginning, showing the shower, the spray, my hand, his…
‘This part,’ I say softly, keeping my eyes on him instead of the footage, ‘this was not you taking from me. I chose pieces of this. Can you see the difference?’
His eyes flick to me briefly, then go back to the display.
‘Do you see me hurting here?’ I ask. Stop the footage on the moment I told him to touch himself.
‘I asked for this.’ I move it forward again, to where I went to my knees.
‘This was my choice, too. And this?’ I watch his eyes as the lids half-close at the part when he let me taste him. ‘This was yours.’
His mouth parts but nothing comes. I watch his throat swallowing everything back.
Removing the camera entirely, I set it on the floor beside us, his gaze moored to it.
I reach for his face again – very slowly so he has time to refuse – then take it between my hands after his shoulders sink.
‘You scared me today,’ I whisper. His body tightens, but I keep my voice low and soft. ‘I need you to hear that first.’
He lowers his chin as he looks ahead into the darkness.
‘You came back before you made it worse. That matters,’ I murmur, pressing my forehead to his as he closes his eyes upon contact.
‘You made a choice.’
I want to tell him more. Something that, perhaps, belongs with the other truths I keep in the dark corners of my mind: that I didn’t entirely hate it.
He takes in a breath. It remains in his throat. As he stirs, I pull back just enough to look at him fully. ‘Hey… Keep looking at me,’ I say, this time brushing the tip of my thumb over the seam of his mouth, tracing a shiver there. His lids flutter open again, just barely.
‘Being with someone isn’t wrong,’ I say. ‘Sharing affection—’
‘Affection?’ he cuts in, a bitter laugh curling through his breath. ‘I’m feral.’ His face falls. Pain returning in full force. ‘Violent. Out of control. I don’t know how else I can—’
The way he says it doesn’t sound right in his voice. It sounds more like an echo – someone else’s poison staining the words.
‘You should have killed me.’
I clench my teeth.
‘I was desperate. I wasn’t thinking straight. I’m sorry.’
I reach inside myself and grab onto the shameful heat that I’ve always suppressed around him. Every time he touched me. Every time he almost touched me. Every time he looked at me.
And I find my own demons baring their teeth.
He had taken me. Frightened me. Made this cabin a cage, made obedience into care, made my body learn the shape of his rules. I could look at him and see only that. The captor. The danger. The frost-born monster.
But I have also seen his hands turn gentle. Seen him feed me. Seen the intelligence behind both his words and silence.
And the restraint. One that cost him dearly as he fought not to become what the world had already set into stone. I’ve seen him carry blankets for a child, feed the animals, fight wolves.
The choice bleeds into light without me having to make it. It doesn’t excuse him for anything. But it makes me stop mistaking trauma for bad simply because fear makes the simpler story easier to hold.
‘Sharing violence,’ I murmur then, careful with every word as my nose grazes the side of his, ‘with someone who asks for it – wants it – isn’t wrong either.’
His breath stutters.
Stills.
‘But it has to be chosen, Elias. Not taken.’
His chest doesn’t rise for a beat as his eyes search mine, desperate for a lie, a trap, a reason to pull away.
Air begins coursing through him after a moment.
I draw back just enough to kiss one closed eyelid. Gently.
‘Show me what frightens you, but not like today – not without a way back,’ I breathe against his mouth. ‘Teach me violence that doesn’t hurt,’ I offer, ‘and I’ll teach you gentleness that isn’t weakness.’
A soft kiss – his lips part for me.
‘I’ll take on your demons.’ My words echo a little too loud – like a prayer and a curse in one. ‘But you’ll have to take on mine, too.’