sinners of the night (dark romance) READ!!

Storys and sorrows

Felix's POV
It's been a week since I helped her move in, and I wish I could say she's better. That she's healing. But Lila isn't the same.
Her tan skin, once glowing, looks like it's been drained of color, like someone sucked the life out of her. She's always been skinny, but now she's just... bones. It makes me sick to look at her sometimes—knowing she's still hurting, still suffering in ways I can't fix.
The worst part? She won't let anyone in. Not really.
She spends her time locked away in that room. The same damn room Elodie died in, like she's punishing herself by being there. I hate it. Every time I walk past, I wonder what kind of memories that place is forcing her to relive. It's like she's drowning, and I can't reach her.
She's barely eating. Hell, she barely talks to anyone. I see her dance sometimes—movements slow, weak, not the fierce ballerina I know she is. It's like she's doing it just to keep from completely disappearing. But her heart isn't in it. Her body moves, but she's not there.
I tried bringing it up once. Told her she needed to get out, do something, anything other than sit in that damn room. She just stared at me, her eyes empty, as if I was speaking a language she didn't understand.
She's scared. Scared of her family, scared of everything that's happened. And it's eating her alive.
The few friends she had? Gone. They tried reaching out, but Lila pushed them away. Just like she pushes everyone away. Except me. And I have no idea why. Maybe it's because I don't give her the choice.
I'm not soft with her. I can't be. I'm not wired that way. But there's something about her that makes me want to tear down every fucking wall around her, even if she hates me for it. Because watching her like this... it's killing me.
The one thing that seems to keep her tethered is Josh. She still sees him, and I've been keeping an eye on him like I promised. But every time she comes back from visiting him, she looks worse. Like being around him is a reminder of everything she's lost.
It's not enough. Nothing's enough.
I lean against the wall outside her dorm, my fists clenched. The door's cracked open, just enough for me to see her sitting by the window, staring out at nothing. Her legs are pulled up to her chest, her arms wrapped around them like she's trying to hold herself together.
Her head drops to her knees, and I feel this... ache in my chest. I want to go in there, shake her, make her fight back like she used to. But I know that won't work. She's already drowning, and forcing her to swim will just pull her under faster.
But I can't just stand here and do nothing.
I push the door open, stepping inside. She doesn't move. Doesn't even acknowledge me.
"Lila." My voice comes out rougher than I intended, but I don't care. I'm done tiptoeing around her. "You need to eat something."
"I'm not hungry." Her voice is so quiet, it's almost like she's forgotten how to speak.
"Bullshit." I walk over, grabbing the chair from her desk and spinning it around so I can sit in front of her. "When was the last time you had a real meal?"
She shrugs, her eyes still fixed on the window.
I grip the edge of the chair, my knuckles white. "This isn't working, Lila. You can't just sit here and waste away."
"I'm fine."
I laugh, but there's no humor in it. "No. You're not. Look at yourself."
She finally meets my gaze, and for a split second, I see the fire that used to burn in her. But it's gone as quickly as it came, replaced by that empty stare that's becoming too familiar.
"I don't need your help, Felix," she says, her voice flat.
"Yeah? Well, too bad, because you're getting it whether you want it or not."
Her lips press into a thin line, but she doesn't argue. She's too tired to fight me, and that pisses me off more than anything. Where's the girl who used to throw punches and snide remarks like weapons? Where's the girl who could stand toe-to-toe with me without flinching?
I stand up, running a hand through my hair. I don't know how to deal with this—her. I'm not built for this kind of shit. I don't know how to fix people. I break them.
But Lila... she's different.
I move toward the window, looking out at the same view she's been staring at for God knows how long. "You can't keep doing this," I mutter, more to myself than to her. "Sitting in this room, pretending like you're okay. You're not."
She doesn't say anything, but I can feel her eyes on me. Waiting.
"You're scared," I continue, my voice low. "I get it. Your family's a fucking nightmare, and you don't know who you can trust. But shutting everyone out? That's not going to make it go away."
"Trust?" She scoffs, her voice gaining a little bit of strength. "Who am I supposed to trust, Felix? You?"
I turn to face her, my jaw tight. "Yeah. Me."
Her eyes narrow, and for a moment, I think she's going to tell me to fuck off. But she doesn't. Instead, she just looks... tired. Like she's carrying the weight of the world on her shoulders, and it's too heavy for her to bear.
"I can't," she whispers, her voice breaking.
I walk over to her, crouching down so we're eye level. "You don't have a choice. Because I'm not going anywhere."
She stares at me, her lips parted like she wants to say something, but the words don't come. I can see the fear in her eyes, the doubt. But I'm not letting her push me away. Not anymore.
I reach out, my hand brushing against her cheek, and for the first time, she doesn't flinch. Doesn't pull away. Her skin is cold, too cold, and it makes me wonder how long she's been sitting here, alone, freezing in her own thoughts.
"You're not alone in this," I tell her, my voice firm. "You've got me. And I'm not letting you fall."
Her eyes glisten with unshed tears, but she blinks them away, refusing to let them spill. She's always been too strong for that. Too stubborn to show weakness.
But I can see it. And I know she's close to breaking.
"I don't know how to do this," she admits, her voice trembling. "I don't know how to be... okay."
I nod, my hand still resting against her cheek. "You don't have to be. Not yet. But you've got to stop hiding."
Her gaze drops, and I can see the battle going on inside her. She's scared, and I get that. But she's not going to get through this by locking herself away.
"You've got to trust me," I tell her, my voice softer now. "Just this once."
She swallows hard, her eyes flicking back up to mine. And for the first time in a long time, I see a flicker of something other than fear.
Hope.
It's faint, barely there, but it's enough. Enough to make me believe that maybe—just maybe—she can find her way back.
And I'll be damned if I let her do it alone.
I can feel it before it even happens—the moment she shatters. Lila's always been this cold, beautiful statue. A work of art so perfect you'd think it couldn't break. But right now, I can see the cracks running through her, spreading like veins under her skin.
I don't know what I'm supposed to do. I'm not built for this. Comfort isn't in my nature. Hell, I'm the reason people break, not the one who picks up the pieces. But with Lila... it's different.
Her breathing is ragged, her chest heaving as if she's trying to hold it all in. But it's too much for her.
"Lila," I murmur, stepping closer. Her back is against the wall, and she looks like she's about to crumble.
"I can't... I can't do this," she whispers, her voice breaking like glass under pressure.
Before I can think, before I can even process what's happening, she falls into me. Her body hits mine, and my arms instinctively wrap around her. She's shaking, trembling so hard I can feel it in my bones. Her face presses into my chest, and I can feel the dampness of her tears soaking through my shirt.
She's crying.
Lila fucking Louis is crying. In my arms.
I don't say anything. What the hell would I say? Instead, I tighten my grip on her, holding her against me like I'm the only thing keeping her from falling apart completely.
Her sobs are quiet, almost muffled by the way she's clinging to me, but I can feel the weight of them. It's heavy. Too heavy for her to carry alone.
For a long time, neither of us moves. I don't know how to fix this, but I know I can't let her go. Not right now. Not when she's finally letting herself break in front of me.
And that's when it hits me—maybe I don't have to fix her. Maybe all I need to do is be here. Hold her. Keep her grounded when she feels like she's floating away.
Minutes pass. Maybe hours. I don't know. But eventually, her sobs slow, her breathing evens out, and the tension in her body starts to ease.
She's still in my arms, her face buried in my chest, and for the first time, I feel something other than anger, other than this deep, dark need to destroy everything around me.
I feel... protective.
What the hell is happening to me?
I glance down, and that's when I realize she's fallen asleep. Her small, fragile body is curled into mine, and for once, she looks peaceful. The lines of pain that usually mar her face are gone, replaced by a calm I haven't seen in her since... well, since before everything went to shit.
I sit down on the edge of the bed, pulling her with me so she's resting against me. Her breathing is soft, steady, and for the first time in what feels like forever, I let myself relax.
It's strange, sitting here with her like this. I'm used to chaos. To violence and rage. But this... this is different. It's quiet. It's almost peaceful. And I hate how much I don't hate it.
Eventually, my eyes start to close, and I let myself drift off, the feel of her small body against mine lulling me into a sleep I didn't know I needed.

I wake up to sunlight streaming through the window, warm and soft against my face. For a moment, I forget where I am, but then I feel her. Lila. Still wrapped in my arms, her head resting against my chest.
Her body shifts, and she blinks up at me, her eyes hazy with sleep. For a second, she looks confused, like she can't figure out why she's in my arms. But then it hits her, and her face flushes with color—a faint, delicate pink that makes her look... human again.
"You stayed," she murmurs, her voice barely above a whisper.
"Yeah." My voice is rough, still thick from sleep, but I don't move. I don't pull away from her.
Her eyes drop to my chest, where her tears dried into my shirt, and she frowns. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to..."
"Don't," I cut her off, my tone sharper than I intended. "You don't have to apologize."
She nods, her gaze still avoiding mine, and for a moment, we just sit there in silence. It's not uncomfortable. It's... strange, but not bad.
Eventually, though, reality kicks back in. We can't sit here forever.
"You need to eat," I tell her, my voice gruff. "And don't give me any bullshit excuses. You haven't had a real meal in days."
Her eyes flicker with something—annoyance, maybe—but she doesn't argue. Instead, she slowly pulls herself out of my arms, her movements stiff, as if her body's forgotten how to function properly.
"I'll come with you," I add, standing up and stretching out the stiffness from sleeping in a chair.
She glances at me, her brow furrowing like she's not sure why I'd offer. But she doesn't push me away. Not this time.

The cafeteria is buzzing with the usual morning chaos—students laughing, talking, stuffing their faces with whatever the kitchen threw together. But the second Lila and I walk in, the noise drops. Not entirely, but enough for me to notice the eyes on us. People whispering, staring.
I don't give a shit. Let them talk.
Lila, on the other hand, tenses beside me. I can feel the way her shoulders draw up, her body curling in on itself like she's trying to disappear.
"Don't," I mutter under my breath as I grab a tray and hand it to her. "Don't let them get to you."
Her eyes flick up to mine, wide and uncertain, but she takes the tray without a word. She's trying. That's more than I could've said a week ago.
We make our way through the line, and I make sure to load her plate with food. She tries to protest, but one look from me shuts her up. She's going to eat whether she wants to or not.
When we sit down, Grayson is already there, his cold blue eyes scanning us with a raised brow. He's the only one who can pull off looking like he's bored and judging the entire world at the same time.
"Rough night?" he asks, his gaze flicking between me and Lila.
"Shut up, Gray," I snap, though there's no real bite behind it. He knows. He always knows.
Lila picks at her food, her fork pushing the eggs around her plate without really eating them. I'm about to say something when Grayson leans forward, his voice low.
"You've got to stop babysitting her, man. She's not your problem."
I glare at him. "I'm not babysitting anyone."
He leans back, crossing his arms over his chest. "Sure looks like it."
Lila's head stays down, her expression unreadable, but I know she's listening. I can feel the way her body tenses, the way her fingers grip the fork a little too tight.
"Leave it, Gray," I growl, my patience wearing thin. "I'm not in the mood."
He shrugs, clearly not caring about my mood, but he doesn't push it. He never does. Grayson's cold, but he knows when to back off. Most of the time.
Lila takes a small bite of food, barely enough to qualify as a meal, but it's progress. I'll take it.

School is the same as always—chaos wrapped in rules. Lila walks beside me, her movements slow but steady, and for the first time in a week, she looks... better. Not good, but better. There's color in her cheeks again, faint but there. She's still too quiet, still too withdrawn, but at least she's not falling apart.
I watch her from the corner of my eye, trying to figure out what's going on in her head. She's a puzzle I can't quite solve, and it pisses me off. But at the same time, I can't stop trying. There's something about her that keeps pulling me back, no matter how hard I try to stay away.
She stops at her locker, and I lean against the wall, crossing my arms over my chest as I watch her. She looks up at me, her brow furrowing slightly.
"What?" she asks, her voice soft but steady.
"Nothing," I reply, though we both know that's a lie.
She shakes her head, a faint smile tugging at her lips. It's not much, but it's something. A crack in the armor she's built around herself. And I'll be damned if I don't keep pushing until that armor shatters completely.

The rest of the day passes in a blur of classes, whispers, and stolen glances. By the time the final bell rings, I'm more than ready to get the hell out of here. Lila walks beside me, her steps lighter than they've been in days, and for the first time, I don't feel like I'm dragging her along.
We stop outside her dorm, and she turns to me, her eyes searching mine.
"Thanks," she says, her voice barely above a whisper.