The Bad Guy's Doctor

SIXTEEN

He's still sleeping.

I blink sleep from my eyes, soft light filtering in through the sides of his curtains. He had draped a blanket over me and had a very—very—secure grip on me. I catch a glimpse of his patchwork tattoos at every breath of his, peaking above his collar. His head is tilted slightly to the side, long lashes splayed perfectly over his eyelids.

There was a sort of peacefulness in his expression, one that made me want to close my eyes and waste the day away dozing in his arms. I look down at the clock. It's dawn.

He stirs, eyes fluttering open like some overrated scene from a romance movie. Arsenio's irises are unfocused as they slide over to mine. He blinks slowly, his fingers toying with my hair lightly. Was he checking if I was real? "Good morning, darling." He murmurs.

"Let go." I grumble. He pulls me in for a swift kiss on the head, before releasing me. Arsenio looks better. The spark in his eyes was back, as well as his grin. He stretches, sitting up after a brief moment. I head to the bathroom.

- - -

He had ordered breakfast for the two of us, delivered to his door. It was a light breakfast, with fruits and vegetables, jams and fluffy types of breads. "I could feed you," he pricks a slice of apple with the metal fork and holds it out for me. I pry it from the silverware with my fingers, before crunching on it. "Ice cold," He smiles as I sit on his bed.

I eye him warily as he spreads some strawberry jam onto a slice of bread. The previous bloodlust was gone. Nowhere to be found as he scraped the butter knife against the edges of the jam container and sets it down. Arsenio hands the bread to me, toasted and warm in my hand. I take a bite.

No hatred. He doesn't bring up Jasper as he watches me eat, occasionally taking bites of his own. "What do you plan to do to them?" I continue our conversation from the night before, about Yones and the people who still followed him.

"Yones holds sway in many ports, especially in the northern areas. Someone will have to replace him or his entire group will have to be replaced." I tear off a piece of the bread, sweetened with the lightness of strawberries. I hold it toward him and he stills, before taking it from me gently with his teeth.

"You're aiming for the second one?" I lick the jam from my fingertips and he watches my every move.

"Y-Yeah." He forced out, glancing in another direction as I look toward him. He raises a hand to his face, covering the lower half as he mutters a response. "It would be better if we had someone that we could trust in that place." I finish eating, wiping my hands on a napkin.

"That's good." I can feel him brace himself for the 'but' that was incoming. I lower a cold gaze toward him and I see him stiffen, back straightening immediately. "And where does it say that you can't take a break? Hm?" I raise my eyebrows, tilting my head to voice the rhetorics of the question. Nowhere, the answer was nowhere.

He knew it too.

Silence stretched between us and emotions welled up in my chest, unknown and so, very mixed.

Anger, at his recklessness—then and now. He didn't hesitate to drink both cups when he knew that they were going to be poisoned. Anger at the memories. The sound of him choking on the very breath that was supposed to supply him life. The way my fingers shook as I mixed the antidote, based off of nothing but sight and smell. We were lucky.

So infinitely lucky.

If I had been wrong, he would've died. There could've been a hundred different ways things could've ended badly, but he knocked them back like shots. Trusting me blindly.