The Supernova Effect

Chapter 6

Daisuke
Warmth, it was all I could feel; Her skin against mine our bodies holing each other. I could hear her soft breathing, smell my scent on her. She was like summer to my cold December.

Nova was curled against my chest, one leg tangled with mine beneath the sheets while the city glowed faintly through the windows behind us.

For a second I didn't move.

Just listened.

Her breathing.
The soft hum of traffic somewhere below.
The quiet sound of rain still tapping lightly against the glass.

It felt dangerous how easy this was starting to feel.

Like my body had already decided it wanted her here permanently before my brain could catch up.

I looked down at her carefully.

Her hair was a mess now.
Ginger hair spread across my pillow and my shoulder.
There were faint marks along her neck from last night.

Mine.

Something warm twisted low in my chest at the sight.

Something dangerous too.

Nova made me understand how people ruined their lives over love.

I brushed a strand of hair away from her face carefully, and pressed a kiss against her forehead before finally forcing myself out of bed.

I showered quickly, brushed my teeth, threw on sweatpants, then headed downstairs and started making some pancakes.

A few minutes later I heard soft footsteps behind me.

Then arms wrapping around my waist.

I smiled automatically.

"Morning."

"Morning."

"You hungry?"

"Starving."

Her cheek rested against my back while I flipped another pancake one-handed.

Then her fingers brushed across the scar near my shoulder blade.

My body stiffened before I could stop it.

The kitchen suddenly didn't feel as warm anymore.

"What happened?"

I stayed quiet for a second too long.

"Old scar."

Her fingers traced it carefully.

"What kind of scar?"

I exhaled slowly through my nose.

"My dad."

Silence.

Then quietly:
"Your dad did that?"

"Yeah."

The memory hit fast and ugly anyway.

Broken glass.
Alcohol.
My mother pretending not to hear yelling from upstairs.

I focused harder on the pan.

"He threw a bottle at me."

Another pause.

"He was drunk?"

A humorless laugh left me.

"He usually was."

The kitchen went quiet again except for the soft sizzling from the stove.

Then:

"Where is he now?"

I stared at the pancake a second too long before answering.