Grace's Bookstore

Chapter 9

Chapter 9:

Damien's POV

Trigger warning! Sorry guys, I've really been going through it lately and apparently it's manifesting in this chapter. Just so you all know, this was always the plan, it appears I'm just more graphic in some descriptions than I was intending. Be safe. Much love.

-AN

"What are you doing?" The words left his lips before he could stop them, a thought spoken aloud. He glanced back towards the door, thinking, watching. He remembered how Noah felt in his hands, pinned beneath his lips, sweet as honey and warm as whiskey. Then his brain was torn, shattered as it pulled up a memory. Eden, held in his grip. Eden, grinning up at him. Eden, soft and cream-colored, skin laid against his own, much darker, skin. Eden's dark curls and sapphire blue eyes, gleaming in the soft candlelight. Eden, dressed in all black, standing in the rain, hidden under a black umbrella. I can't do this anymore. I can't keep pretending to love you. I can't keep pretending this will work.

Damien snarled back the pinpricks of pain, the emotion that rose in his eyes and echoed in his chest. The emotion that had become a cavernous hole he was too afraid to fill. A yawning canyon that he often thought about simply leaping into and never returning.

He sighed, watched his breath steam in the air, and thought about how much he missed the boy he had loved. The wound was still raw, even after all these years, and Damien still couldn't listen to their song, look at their photos.

But Noah could be different. A voice said. Ben echoed inside his head. Don't be afraid of what he can bring you. Happiness, love, the boy is obviously smitten with you.

So was Eden. A different voice responded. This one he couldn't place, or didn't try to. Why risk the heartbreak again? Why risk the hurt? Isn't it bad enough as it is? When will you learn?

Damien sighed again, lungs inhaling the frigid hair and slowly letting it out. He at least had been smart enough to grab a long coat, black of course, but even he was starting to get cold. Perhaps the sleeveless tee had been a bad idea. Perhaps all of this was a bad idea. He turned, took a step down. But I promised him I would want him. I promised him I do want him. It's not fair of me to go back on that promise. Another step, more swirling thoughts. How long have I thought about him? How long have I noticed him? He thought, tracing weeks back into months into years, watching the brunette from a distance, sneaking glances whenever he wasn't looking, sketching him out when it was safe and private, taking the job at Grace's to get to spend time with him. Noah Dubon. Noah Julian Dubon. Another step down, three more until a landing. He did it, leaned gently against an old wooden railing painted white, afraid it would snap under his full weight.

"So, what do I do?" He asked the open air, the cold night, the old apartment complex. He looked out over the dark, the dimly lit sidewalks, the thin branches of the dormant, or perhaps dead, trees. He thought of Noah, all beautiful eyes and soft curves and seductive curls. All eyerolls and light smacks and sharp exhalations and sarcastic comments. All wide-eyed and stuttering, all scared like a cornered kitten, all soft underneath the sharp exterior. He cared for everyone; he watched out for everyone. "You're not like Eden." He murmured. "Not entirely." Nothing spoke back to him. "So what do I do?"

And then he heard the scream. In a second he had leapt up the six stairs, in a second he was pounding on the door, hollering the brunette's name. In a second he was flipping the knob, begging the door to open, swearing at the fucking lock. In a second his mind changed, and he took a few steps back.

There wasn't even a moment for him to think, there wasn't even a minute to pause, all he felt was the seconds as they slipped by. The seconds since Noah's terrified scream, the seconds since a primal urge erupted in him. Protect. He steeled himself, rallied his nerves, and without a second to think, charged at the door.