Seraphine

forty three

Damien 

Talk ~ Hozier

He can't sleep. 

Granted, he's hardly tried, but he knows he won't be able to. Not after what happened tonight, not when he's been left alone with his raging thoughts. Not when his darling's damaged state keeps replaying in his mind. 

He absolutely hates that that's how he sees her now. Damaged. He can't focus on her long blonde hair or deep blue eyes. All he sees when he closes his eyes, when he looks at her, is blood, bruises, and tears. 

After ten more minutes of sitting with these images plaguing his mind, Damien has enough. He rises from his bed and stalks to the door. 

He only pauses for a moment to grab the key and reevaluate his thoughts before he's ripping the door open and sprinting up the staircase to the third floor. 

Damien reaches Seraphine's room in a matter of seconds, but before he can attempt to unlock the door and slip in undetected, he hears a hiccup. 

His eyebrows furrow as another one sounds, and then a soft sob echoes in his ears. 

Fuck, my darling. 

"Hold on, Seraphine," he calls through the door, hoping she hears him. He digs in his pocket for the slim golden key that unlocks her door--that he knows four exist in different rooms in the house--lifts his hand, and quietly unlocks the door. 

Damien steps into the room and is immediately bombarded by the mess. Fluffy pillows he and Nico had picked out specifically for Seraphine are strewn about the floor, one even laying on the oak desk Enzo had built himself. The large white duvet that is supposed to be neatly lining the bed is haphazardly twisted and half on the floor. 

But the thing that tugs on his heartstrings the most is Seraphine, huddled in the middle of the bed, back against the wall. She's hugging her knees, her head down, shoulders shaking and occasional sobs leaving her. 

"Oh, darling," Damien closes the door behind him and steps closer to Seraphine, whose head shoots up as she scrambles away from him. 

"W-Who's there?" She stammers, causing Damien to raise his hands in surrender before he flicks the lamp closest to the door on. Seraphine blinks at the sudden flush of light, but her stance relaxes as her eyes finally fixate on him. "Damien," she breathes, her shoulders deflating. 

"It's just me, Seraphine." She nods and wipes her eyes, hiccuping softly again. "What happened?" He gestures to the mess in the large room, but his eyes don't divert from her figure. 

Seraphine looks around and sighs through a hiccup, leaning over to grab a pillow that had fallen to the floor. When she does, the oversized shirt Damien recognizes as one of his own rises up, revealing a part of her slim torso. 

Damien bites his knuckle. 

"I'm sorry. I just...tonight was..." she rights herself, dusts off the pink pillow she's picked up, and trails off as her voice gets thicker. 

Damien immediately curses himself for getting hard when the source of his tension is traumatized, and takes a step towards the bed. When Seraphine doesn't protest, he crosses the rest of the room and sits down on the edge of the large mattress, turning to face her. 

"You have nothing to apologize for, darling. Nothing that has happened tonight was your fault, and you shouldn't blame yourself. You might've thrown things everywhere," he teases lightly, his heart swelling when she chuckles, "but he put that anger there, Seraphine. Blame him."