𝐂𝐎𝐑𝐀𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐄, damiano david

━━𝟐𝟐.𝐓𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐨𝐨𝐬

Cold water enveloped my body and displaced the heat inside me.
Alex Turner's voice reached my ears, I had turned on some music before taking a shower. In the meantime, the album started again because I had been in the shower for so long.

A few hours had passed since the interview but the shock was still in my bones.
It felt as if with the clean water I could also drive away all the worries and doubts that plagued me, but of course that was nonsense.

When I finally got out of the shower and changed into a long-sleeved dress, the same problems were still there as before.

Of course the others knew about what had gone on in the interview. I could hardly keep it from them after I had come out of the room pale and shocked, even though Elle had advised me not to talk about it at all. She said we didn't know who the person was who told the press about my father, but I knew it wasn't one of my friends.

In fact, I suspected some passer-by who had seen the scene and sold the information to the press for money.

Damiano had been angry, Sophia was desperate and I was just exhausted.

The setting sun shone through the large window into my room, bathing it in orange light. It looked like I was in another world, a very beautiful sight.

Sighing, I packed some of my things into a big bag, clothes, toothbrush, charging cable, all essentials, then I grabbed my keycard and left the room. The door slammed loudly behind me.With the second keycard for his room, which Damiano had got for me at the reception, I entered his room.

Here, too, the orange light was shining, Damiano was lying on the bed, it looked like he was asleep, but when I came closer, he opened his eyes.
"There you are," he murmured, tapping the mattress beside him. I put my bag down on the floor and sat down with him without a word.

I ran my fingers over his bare chest, Damiano was breathing calmly.
"It took you a long time," he said then, but it didn't sound like an accusation.
"I was in the shower," I explained, pointing to my hair, which was still wet.

Damiano reached for my hand and clasped it with his. It was as if it had been specially made to hold mine, our hands fitted perfectly into each other.

"The interview is getting to you, isn't it?" asked Damiano quietly. Because I didn't really know if my voice would be scratchy or tremble when I spoke, I simply nodded.

"You don't have to worry about it at all," Damiano said quickly to reassure me, "Even if they report on your father, he's the one under pressure, not you."

"But I don't want all of Europe to know about my past, I don't want them to dig for it and find all the things I've been trying to forget for years."

"Sometimes forgetting is not the best way, Coraline. Sometimes you have to come to terms with your past in order to move on."

His words were wise, but I still resisted reliving it all in my head. It was not for nothing that I had already run away from it once.

"Elle said there would be no headlines, the management has cleared it with the press people," I said then and Damiano squeezed my hand.

I knew what he was thinking when I looked at him, I wouldn't be able to run away from the confrontation with my father forever, eventually the past would catch up with me and it would be better if I prepared for it, but I said nothing, instead I lay down next to Damiano and placed my head against his neck.

His warm body radiated the security I needed and as he pulled me closer and wrapped his arms around my body, I closed my eyes and drove away the dark thoughts.

Once again, a panic attack woke me up. It was well past midnight when I woke up panting, sweat standing on my forehead.
This time I had been dreaming, and it had been of my father, it had been more a memory that I had relived.

I was twelve years old, my hair, still red at the time, was long and curly, my face was rounder than it is now. I watched myself as if I were watching a film, watched myself slip quietly into our old house, afraid to wake my father, who was asleep on the sofa.
It was the height of summer, the air was stifling and still, no wind was blowing, but the sun beat down mercilessly on the asphalt and heated it up.

I had just been at Damiano's, he was my best friend, his parents had invited me to dinner, so I was gone longer than I was allowed. I was pretty sure they knew what my father was like, at least they often invited me and always gave me food for Sophia, who spent most of her time playing outside in the street with other children her age.

I almost made it to my room, but in my hurry I forgot that the second step of the stairs always creaked so badly. I stepped on it and winced when the sound reached my ears.

In the living room I heard my father muttering something, then I sucked in a startled breath.
"Coraline?" my father asked loudly and I closed my eyes in despair, "What took you so long, you know you have to be home when I get home from work!"

I wanted to curse, yell at him and run away, but I stopped transfixed on the stairs as he came down the hall towards me. His angry eyes pierced me and I knew what was coming.
When he raised his hand, I woke up.

A scream caught in my throat but I swallowed it, instead I straightened up and got out of bed, feeling a little dizzy as I washed my face with cold water in the bathroom to wake up.

For months I had been tormented by these nightmares after I had fled Italy. That they were coming back now was a disaster.

Damiano still seemed to be asleep and I didn't want to wake him, so I pushed open the balcony door and stood outside. My whole body seemed to be trembling.

In the clear firmament I could spot the stars, the moon shone brightly and fully down on the earth, bathing everything in a beautiful shimmering light.

It was cold, but I was so warm that I didn't shiver at all, at least I didn't notice until I suddenly felt warm arms around my body.

"What are you doing here?", Damiano whispered in my ear as he hugged me from behind, his mouth very close to my ear, sending a shiver through my body.

"I had a bad dream," I explained quietly, my voice even more shaky than I had thought.
He hugged me tighter, as if to pull me out of the abyss of my dark thoughts, and it really helped. I felt less alone and less powerless when he was with me.

I will be the fire and the cold
Winter shelter
I will be what you breathe
I will understand what you have inside
And I'll be the drinking water
The meaning of good

He was my protector. He had always been, even after I had escaped, the thought of him had saved me from sinking into fear. The thought of his body against mine had always been a comfort when I was alone.

In the moonlight, his tattoos shimmered on his chest and when I released myself from his arms to look at them, he looked down at me, in his eyes was all the love and hope he wanted to give me.

"A wave?" I asked, pointing to the tattoo that was on the right side of his torso so that it was almost impossible to see.

"Yes," he said and put a finger under my chin so that I had to look at him, "It represents you."
"Really?" I asked, touched.
"Really," he confirmed, "So somehow I always had you with me, even when you were more than a thousand kilometres away.

His lips kissed my forehead and then he took me in his arms again and held me tightly, as if protecting me from the whole world.