Fallen

12 - catching fire

Sleep wouldn't have me as the silence resumed. Time passed, letting my mind run in circles, upside down, and backward. Finally unable to stay still, I rose to start a fire. Tossing the throw blanket aside, I prepped the hearth and struck a long match.

A silhouette was outlined to my right, his shadowy figure exposed by the warm light the small flame emitted. Two glowing orbs flashed, watching me. I exclaimed, dropping the lit match to the floor. Before I could react, a naked foot stepped in front of me to snuff it out before retreating to leave a half-burnt matchstick, charred head disintegrating.

"You scared me," I said, the darkness enveloping us again. "Didn't that hurt?" I asked, leaning down to collect the dead match.

"No," he said, stopping me with a firm grip and I began to realize that I hadn't been paying nearly enough attention.

Pulling me to face him, I became aware of the static in the air surrounding his towering form like an aura. My eyes, adjusting to the darkness, drifted to where he held my arm. It was like he was pulsing with energy, his touch electric.

"What's going on?" My voice was quiet.

Gentle fingers grazed down the side of my face to run under my chin, causing my spine to tingle. "I don't know," Voice almost a whisper, Atticus shifted his hand to rest his thumb on my lips. "But I do know I don't want to hurt you anymore." He leaned forward, forehead pressed to mine, to place a kiss where he blocked my mouth.

I silenced my internal questions, not wanting to interrupt as he moved back to capture my gaze. "I don't think my heart works the same way yours does. I can't tell you I love you. But you being here, beside me, has made me feel different," He smirked then. "And even though you've been nothing but maddening since you walked through that fucking door, I can't escape you and deep down I'm fucking grateful." His thumb moved over my bottom lip. "I want to be able to love you." He paused, letting his touch drift away. "How fucked up is that?"

Heart pounding, I inhaled deeply to try and steady myself. His words echoed through my head, and I struggled to respond with all the combined noise. "It's not messed up. It's good."

"I said 'fucked up,'" Atticus corrected, smile broadening. "Say it right."

Eyeing him, I hesitated before a hand shot into my hair and slowly tightened against my scalp. "It- it's not fucked up," I said, my voice breathy.

Fist still clutched, a hum emanated through the demon. He brought his face past mine, mouth grazing my ear. With a voice, low and thick, he asked, "Would you like to help me celebrate my progress?"

A sound of innocent surprise escaped me as I felt my legs weaken at the implication. A chuckle resounded in my ear and it warmed me further. "I would very much like to be able to touch you again," I said, flushing with vulnerability.

Taking my hand, Atticus spun me, holding my back to his front, grip under my bust. Facing the hearth he spoke gently, "And I would like to be able to watch you."

His free arm reached past me to pull a new match from the box. Striking it, the head ignited. He held it for a moment, letting the flame strengthen, before tossing it into the mass of paper, and kindling, and wood. A warm glow cast upon us and Atticus began to sway our bodies to a silent rhythm. I closed my eyes, savoring the heat enveloping me from both sides.

A kiss was placed on top of my head as the grip around me tightened before releasing me completely. My eyes opened slowly, taking in the undulation of the flames growing stronger, feeding off the organic material. Not wanting to let it die out again, I added two heartier logs which dampened the light slightly. Turning, I didn't see the body previously warming mine.

My peripheral vision alerted me of movement as I witnessed pillows being thrown over the railing onto the loveseat and floor. Descending the stairs, Atticus hauled the heavy knit blanket from upstairs to lay it out on the open floor space in front of the hearth. I grabbed the pillows and throw blanket to deposit them on top, lowering myself to the floor.

Atticus handed off two drinks before joining me. Once seated, he clinked his glass to mine before taking a long drink. I watched him, taking a sip. I shuddered, pulling the blanket up over our legs. Blue eyes, focused on the fire, shifted to me, reflecting light in a way that almost seemed to emanate from within. The energy around him had quieted down considerably but there was something so different about his presence since it began. Something new.

I moved my hand across the blanket to rest next to my desired destination. I looked at the space between; the distance I couldn't cross. It was only about an inch, but it made me feel a world away. Slowly, long fingers reached out to caress my waiting hand causing me to melt slightly. How could the most innocent of touches elicit such a rush of endorphins?

Scooting close enough that our knees knocked together, Atticus lifted my hand to place a kiss against my knuckles. "If you can believe it, I'm not very practiced at apologies," I let an encouraging smile build on my features. "And I'm still in denial about your unfailing patience with me. That being said, you do deserve an apology."

I waited for more as silence persisted.

"I'm sorry," he finally said, holding my gaze intently. "For a lot of things; too many things..."

My heart clenched as I nodded for him to continue.

"But the way you just fucking took it," Letting out a sigh, Atticus continued, "And the way you gave me nothing but- I just can't shake this feeling that as soon as I give in, everything is going to get fucked."

"I can't tell you what's coming. I don't know your future or mine, but I can't imagine that embracing love can be a bad thing. And if you can't- or just can't call it that- well, that's okay too. The important part is that you are trying."

"Is it?" Atticus questioned seriously. "Is that all it takes? Remorse?" He drained his glass and refocused on me, waiting.

Taking another sip, I chewed on his words. "Remorse seems like a pretty good first step to me. Your actions matter. What you've done matters. But without a second or a third chance, how are you supposed to move beyond your past? How are you supposed to grow without receiving forgiveness?"

Taking my glass, Atticus moved to encroach my space, filling it with static. Unable to brace against him, my hands shifted behind me to hold myself upright. Face looming towards mine, my eyes drifted to his lips as they curved into a soft smile. "Ash, I'd very much like to kiss you."

I remembered his words from my second day here and smiled in turn. "I think that's a good idea."