Love, Lies & Murder | KTH

06| Rivalries & Runaways



Please understand that I'm trying my hardest
My head's a mess, but I'm trying regardless
—Chase Atlantic

I hold her close. Tight. Maybe tighter than I should.

She's trembling, every shaky breath against my chest ignites something dark inside me—something unhinged that yearns to crush every last bone in that motherfucker's body. He signed his death certificate the moment he touched her, and I'll be the one to deliver it.

A soft gasp escapes her mouth as her eyes catch on the car speeding down the road. The fear that conquered me when I saw her dart into the street was a nightmare I didn't know existed until now. One second late, and she could have—

I shake that thought away. She's here, in my arms. That's all that matters.

Her hands clutch my shirt fiercely, and I feel the urge to say something, anything to reassure her. To reassure the both of us.

"Easy, precious", I whisper into her ear. "I've got you."

Beautiful, heartbreaking emerald eyes blink up at me, and I helplessly fall into them. There's something hypnotic about them, a kind of pull that I can't escape, and maybe I don't want to. They unnerve me so completely that I forget everything else when they're on me.

They see too much, burn too hot. And yet, I crave that fire, even if it's the thing that'll consume me. I want to unfold every small galaxy glimmering in her eyes, memorize all their forbidden secrets, and whisper them in her ear like a fervent prayer.

A tremor rolls through her, and I ground myself in the feel of her under my palms. She's so fucking soft, so lethally beautiful that the thought of looking away from her physically pains me. Her body is pressed against mine, yet she slips further away from me by the second. Not that she was ever close in the first place.

I expect her to pull away, lash out at me for getting too close, or say something biting to push me away. But she doesn't. For once, there's no sassy eye roll, no quick-witted deflection. Just silence.

It unsettles me.

Slowly, her eyes drift lower, frantically inspecting every inch of her skin. She pauses, her gaze heavy on the blood dripping on the cobblestone. My bandages are gone. The bruises tore open again when I broke that motherfucker's jaw. He should be grateful, I did him a favor with a face like that.

Her hands fall limp at her sides. "I... I almost—", she breathes, so fragile, so breakable. My chest tightens.

Damn it, Cecelia. What are you doing to me?

"Not tonight. Not while I'm here." I loosen my grip on her, going against every fiber in my being, but this is not about what I want. It's about giving her the safety and comfort she needs.

She squeezes her eyes shut, "I shouldn't have come. This was a mistake."

A mistake. These words again.

I know tonight wasn't exactly the party she hoped for, but she made it clear that she didn't mix well with these scenes before she fell into that prick's hands.

It was a reminder of why I stay away from places like this. And people like you.

She took the liberty to create some despicable image of me in her head, labeling me not only as an incorrigible fuckboy, but as her enemy.