All that is dark | ✓

12| imago

WHY WAS HE HERE? Did it even matter? She should've known better than to think he wouldn't find her. The feeling was so suffocating that for a moment she felt like she had no air, but she quickly hid it behind the calm facade she always had up. Even if he had never said it, she knew Dante already thought of her as someone weak and foolish, so there was no need for her to enforce that idea even more. Her mother had been right when she had told her she only attracted trouble. For some reason she found it that she cared more than she thought about Dante thinking the same of her.

Zion smiled when she said his name, immediately sitting down beside her in the booth without bothering to ask. She felt her body tensing, but quickly forced herself to calm down again. This was no place for her to get stressed, not when she was just getting closer to Dante, not when she thought she finally was getting a friend. If he saw how self-destructive she was in her romantic relationships as well, wouldn't he just look down on her more?

"But you're a psychiatrist," someone once had told her," how do you even get in an abusive relationship when you're taught to avoid them?"

Even though she knew that wasn't true, how none of her medical training had prepared her for how the bruises stung when they were on your own skin, she hadn't spoken up then and she didn't now. There was a certain shame she felt about the things she had experienced, one which turned the words on her tongue to ash. Besides, weren't there many worse things out there in the world? How could she allow herself to speak of something like this when Dante was just speaking of losing a little sister?

God, she would never allow herself the kindness she did others, wouldn't she?

"I love the way you say my name," Zion smiled, pulling her out of her thoughts as he twirled her locks around his fingers.

A way to show Dante that she was his, she assumed, but mostly to see how far he could go as well. Zion knew as well as her that she wouldn't make a scene in public. Besides, he was angry. He could pretend to be easy-going all he wanted, but Helene saw right through that mask of his, his index finger tapping against his thumb, a movement which always betrayed his annoyance. When he was painting, all that would cause was for the colors to smudge together violently on his hands, but now it was more easily missed. It was clear he wanted to know who Dante was, but at the same time he was too fixated on her to ask, like he didn't want to miss any time in absorbing her expressions for his next piece. Dante frowned, clearly confused by the new addition to their booth, his gaze flicking from her back to her ex.

"Who are you?" he asked.

"I seem to remember I asked first," Zion said, turning to look at Dante.

"So?" Dante said, raising an eyebrow," you want a price for asking first?"

Zion blinked, clearly taken aback. He was enamored by everything that was graceful and lovely, so she could imagine Dante was a bit of a shock to him. It didn't matter, because Dante hadn't asked the question to Zion. Helene knew he specifically had aimed it at her, eyes flicking towards Zion's hand, now on her shoulder.

"Do you know him, Helene?" he said, clearly ready to tackle Zion if she said no.

"I do," she said.

She didn't want to explain anything, she just wanted Zion to go away so she could sit in a place she used to like without feeling suffocated. Why was that so hard? He never would let her go, would he?

"Don't be so cold, my muse," Zion said, pulling her closer to his side," it almost sounds like we're simply acquaintances." His gaze flicked up towards Dante then, something undecipherable flashing in it. "Or is it because he's here that you pretend we're not dating?"