BEHIND CLOSED DOORS | D.M

045 | safe words

Draco doesn't want to wake up.

He'd give everything up to turn this minute into an everlasting moment, feeling the rise and fall of Kallista's chest being in perfect sync with his. With his arms securely wrapped around her frame, her back pressed to his chest, he knows he wouldn't trade this woman for anything in the world.

He listens to the way her breaths are steady and calm—a stark contrast to the way she's been sleeping lately. Less than a week has gone by since she came back home, and she is only starting to comprehend and realise what happened to her. Realisation hits her like violent, rising tidal waves—especially when she has nightmares. Still, she doesn't ever admit to Draco it has broken her to experience this kind of trauma, and it completely shatters his heart to see her so fragile and delicate and vulnerable beneath her tough façade.

She's been having nightmares, though she doesn't talk about them. Most of the time, she mumbles incoherent phrases in her sleep, and absentmindedly reaches for Draco's hand whilst drifted into a deep slumber.

She wakes up the next morning. Pretends she's fine. Bottles all of her feelings inside. Draco fears she might explode someday, but he is ready to receive all her anger and pain.

Draco doesn't sleep. Refuses to, unless he is certain she is resting peacefully. He cradles her against his chest, doesn't say anything. He presses kisses to her temples, forces himself to ignore the harsh, painful ache gripping at his chest when she trembles whilst dreaming. He brushes wild locks away from her forehead, traces the curve of her nose with the tip of his forefinger, follows the lines of her full lips with his gaze, ingraining every inch of her facial features in the back of his mind.

Like right now; he listens to her breathing whilst his mind races with millions of unfathomable thoughts. The silvery glow of the moonlight penetrates the room, casting an ethereal glow upon Kallista's face—as if the heavens, too, are looking after her. He feels weak in this instant. Her mere presence could bring him to his knees. And so, he tightens his hold over her as though she's his anchor.

"Kallista, baby?" he whispers, almost inaudibly, like he's scared his murmuration could disturb her peace.

She doesn't move. Doesn't wake up. His heartbeat starts to thunder wildly, frantically, furiously, and he fears she might feel the rhythm of his turmoil rattling against her back.

He releases a small breath—a tremulous one at that—whilst cradling her even closer to him, letting her scent of sage and green tea cocoon him in an embrace he likes to call home.

Then, he allows his mind—and mostly heart—to speak for himself before it becomes too late. A whisper, a confession, a secret only Kallista gets to hear. "I wanted to tell you that I'm terrified and confused and completely dazed, but I think you're it for me. Being away from you and not having knowledge of what might have happened made me realise I can't breathe without you. I'm so terribly sorry for what happened. I haven't been good to you. I haven't been able to protect you but... I don't know what I'd do if I lost you. I just—I don't know how to say this."

He pauses, ensuring she's still sleeping. When he notices her breathing is as steady and calm, her body unmoving, he swallows thickly before continuing. "I've never felt like this before. I've never allowed myself to feel for anyone, to break my rules, but you've always been the only exception. There isn't a lifetime where I can imagine myself without you. It's always going to be me for you, and you for me, even if you hate me again in the next lifetime. I'd rather have you loathe me than not have you at all. The things I'd do for you, Kallista, they drive me to insanity. I would tear myself apart if you asked. I'd ruin myself a million times again for you. I'm yours. Utterly, entirely and solely yours. And deep down, I think I've always been. You are the love of my life; I don't doubt it for a second."