What We Left in the Dark

Forty Three

I sat on the coffee table next to Gian, my eyes scanning his face. He looked battered and worn, with cuts along his forehead and cheeks. But none of it compared to the gaping wound in his abdomen, freshly bandaged but still bleeding through. I sighed in disbelief, unable to reconcile the strong, untouchable figure I once knew with the broken man sitting before me. I had never seen him so weak, so utterly vulnerable.

Gian noticed me staring and reached over, taking my hand in his. His grip was weak, but there was something in his touch that still held its familiar warmth, a comfort I hadn't realized I'd been craving. For a moment, it was just us, alone in the quiet of the apartment, and all the chaos of the last few days seemed to melt away.

"I'm sorry you had to see all of this," Gian said, his voice low and filled with regret.

My heart clenched at the sound. He looked up at me, eyes swimming with emotions he was barely keeping in check. I shook my head slightly, looking away for a moment, unsure of what to say.

"All of it, or just you like this?" I finally asked, my voice soft but direct.

Gian's face tightened, and he looked down at the floor, the shame evident in his posture. He didn't answer right away, his silence stretching the space between us. His thumb traced slow, absentminded circles over the back of my hand.

"You don't have to see me like this," he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. "You shouldn't have to. This isn't who I wanted to be for you. Not like this."

My chest tightened again. The man in front of me wasn't the same Gian I had fallen for, and that realization stung in a way I wasn't prepared for. The Gian who once held my hand and promised me the world was gone, replaced by someone darker, someone who bore the weight of his choices like shackles around his wrists.

"You don't have to apologize for that," I whispered, barely able to speak. But as soon as the words left my mouth, I questioned them. Maybe he did owe me an apology. Maybe he owed me more than that—for the secrets, the danger, for pulling me back into this twisted mess when I thought I'd escaped it.

Gian squeezed my hand, his touch trembling as his emotions broke through. "I do, though. You shouldn't have to see me like this. You shouldn't..." He trailed off, his voice faltering as if he couldn't bear to say the words.

I stayed quiet, watching him closely. His face was twisted in pain—not just from his injuries, but from something deeper, something he didn't know how to fix. I saw the war inside him, the way he struggled to hold on to whatever piece of himself remained intact.

"I never wanted this for you," he continued, his voice raw. "You deserve more than... this." He gestured weakly to his bloodied body, his clothes stained with the remnants of his violent life. "I didn't want to pull you into my world. I didn't want you to be part of this."

I looked away, biting my lip as I tried to hold back the flood of emotions rising in my chest. This wasn't the life I imagined, and it certainly wasn't the man I had hoped to find when I looked at Gian again. The love I had for him once was still there, somewhere, but now it was tangled up in pain and confusion.

"I don't know who you are anymore," I admitted, my voice quiet but steady. It was a confession I hadn't wanted to make, but it was the truth.

Gian flinched at my words, the hurt flashing across his face before he quickly masked it. He let go of my hand, the distance between us growing with the weight of my admission.

"I don't know who I am anymore either," he whispered, his voice barely audible.

I saw it then—a glimpse of the boy I had once loved, hidden beneath the bruises and the blood. For a moment, it felt like the old Gian was still in there, but now he was lost, buried under years of violence and choices that had reshaped him into someone unrecognizable. My heart ached for him, but I didn't know if I could reach him anymore. Maybe he was too far gone.

"I never wanted to change," Gian said softly, breaking the silence. "But I didn't have a choice. The things I've done... the things I've seen. I can't be that person anymore. I can't be the guy you knew when we were together."

His words hung in the air, heavy and thick with regret. I swallowed, unsure of how to respond. This wasn't just about what he had become—it was about me too. Could I still love the man he had become, or was I holding on to a version of him that no longer existed?

"You don't have to stay with Luca," Gian said suddenly, his voice desperate now, pleading. "You don't have to choose him just because it's easier. Or safer. Don't walk away from me because you think you have to."

His words cut deep, and for a moment, my breath caught in my throat. It wasn't just about safety, and we both knew that. It was about love. About whether there was anything left between us worth saving. I looked down at my hands, torn between the man sitting in front of me and the man I once thought he was.

"Gian, I'm not choosing anyone right now," I said quietly, my voice shaky but resolute. "I'm trying to figure out what's best for me. And I don't know what that is yet."

Gian closed his eyes, my words sinking in like a dagger to his heart. When he opened them again, there was a heaviness in his gaze that hadn't been there before.

"I still love you," he whispered. "I always have. No matter what's happened or how far I've fallen... that hasn't changed."

The sincerity in his voice shook me, sending chills down my spine. He still loved me. But the truth was, I wasn't sure if I could say the same anymore. Too much had happened. Too many things had changed. And while a part of me would always care for him, the love I once felt was buried beneath layers of hurt, fear, and confusion.

"I know," I whispered, my voice cracking with emotion. "But some things never change."