What We Left in the Dark

Forty Five

The morning light filtered through the blinds, casting soft shadows across the room as I lay tangled in the guest bed's sheets, staring at the ceiling. Sleep had been evasive, slipping through my fingers each time I closed my eyes. Instead, Luca's kiss lingered on my mind, warm and weighty, as real as the echo of his words and the ache of Gian's vulnerability the night before.

I wanted to believe the kiss was a momentary lapse, a brief interlude in the intensity of everything happening, yet Luca's sincerity ran too deep to be ignored. His promises echoed in my mind, pulling me between past and future, each side just as tangled as the other.

I tried to shake off the weight of last night's events and the emotions still coiled tightly in my chest, and as I forced myself up and out of bed, the smell of fresh coffee wafted down the hallway. A quiet comfort, at least, in this strange reality.

When I entered the kitchen, Luca was already there, leaning casually against the counter in another meticulously tailored suit. He looked up as I approached, his expression unreadable for a moment before a hint of warmth softened his gaze.

"Good morning," he said, his voice steady but low.

"Morning," I replied, my own voice tinged with hesitation. There was an unspoken tension between us now, subtle yet undeniable. I wrapped my hands around the warm coffee mug he'd set out for me, needing something to ground myself.

Luca broke the silence first, his tone both gentle and resolved. "Did you sleep?"

"Barely," I admitted, taking a cautious sip, savoring the bitter warmth.

A flicker of something—concern, perhaps—passed over his face, and he nodded, as if he understood the sleeplessness I felt. "Gian's still resting," he said, his voice softer. "He had a rough night, but... he'll heal."

I nodded, unsure how to respond. Between my brief moments of sleep, I could hear Gian's groans carry down the hallway. I chose to ignore them, perhaps against my better judgment.

 The air between us thickened with the weight of everything unspoken, every promise, and every wound not yet healed. Luca's eyes lingered on me, as if he were about to say something more, but the moment passed, and he simply offered a small smile.

"So," I finally said, needing to break the tension. "What's the plan for today?"

Luca set his mug down and straightened, his expression shifting to something more practical. "I am meeting someone who might have information on the situation from last night. I want to make sure there aren't any more surprises."

The mention of "surprises" pulled me back to reality, and the memory of finding Gian injured flashed before me. "And what am I supposed to do?" I asked, a hint of sarcasm slipping through my words.

"Stay here," he replied quickly, his gaze firm but not unkind. "You'll be safe here. And I know it's a lot to ask, but just... be patient, alright?"

I took a deep breath, trying to keep my emotions in check. "And what if I don't want to sit around waiting?"

"Then don't," he said simply, his expression shifting, his eyes serious. "But promise me, Cat, that you'll keep yourself safe. If you won't do it for me, do it for yourself. Do it for Gian."

The sincerity in his tone stirred something within me, and despite the frustration gnawing at me, I nodded. I let my eyes drift to the couch where Gian lay, still sprawled. "Fine."

Luca's shoulders relaxed, as though he'd been holding his breath, and a hint of relief softened his features. He reached out, gently placing a hand on my arm, and I didn't pull away.

"Thank you," he murmured, his voice carrying a rare vulnerability.

The quiet intimacy of the moment lingered until I heard movement from the living room. I turned, catching sight of Gian as he attempted to sit up, looking a little pale but managing a wry smile.

"Morning," he said, his gaze flickering between Luca and me, something guarded in his eyes.

"Hey," I replied, managing a small smile. He took a tentative motion to rise from the couch, and for a brief moment, the memory of our last conversation—his raw, broken words and the pain they carried—flashed through my mind.

Luca's hand slipped from my arm as Gian groaned with struggle, his voice steady but with an undercurrent of tension. 

"Stop trying to move." I say definitively, reaching into the freezer to grab an ice pack for him. 

Gian sighed, frustration evident in the clench of his jaw as he shifted on the couch, attempting to prop himself up. He winced as he moved, but there was a stubborn resolve in his eyes.

"Really, I'm fine," he said, his voice rough as he waved me off with a weak attempt at a grin. But as I pressed the ice pack against his side, he hissed and stopped pretending.

"You're not," I replied firmly, holding his gaze. "And if you keep this up, it's only going to get worse."

Gian's eyes softened, and he let out a long exhale, finally letting himself relax back into the couch. "Alright, doctor," he muttered, the faintest hint of a smile playing at the corners of his mouth.

Luca looked between us, his jaw slightly clenched, though his expression was unreadable. He cleared his throat, breaking the quiet. "I'll be back later today. Just... try not to move too much," he said, his voice directed at Gian but with a pointed look toward me. It was as if he could already sense the tension and the urge in both of us to keep pushing, to dig deeper.

I nodded, accepting his unspoken message. Luca hesitated a moment longer, his eyes lingering on mine before he turned to leave, his form disappearing into the hallway.

As the door clicked shut, the silence grew, settling thickly in the room. I kept my focus on Gian, watching him as he adjusted himself on the couch.

"You don't have to take care of me like this," Gian murmured, breaking the quiet. "It's not your responsibility."

I shook my head, a soft, bitter laugh escaping. "Maybe not. But someone has to." My words came out sharper than I'd intended, but I couldn't hold them back. "You know, for someone who talks about keeping me safe, you have a funny way of showing it."

Gian's gaze dropped, guilt shadowing his features. "I know... I don't expect forgiveness, Cat. I barely know who I am anymore, let alone what I've become."

I softened, recalling the glimmer of the boy I'd once known, buried beneath the layers of the man in front of me. "You don't have to apologize for what you are," I said, my voice gentler now. "But I do need to know if you're here with me or still wrapped up in... whatever this is."

Gian's eyes met mine, filled with a vulnerability that cracked through his defenses. He squeezed my hand gently, as if grounding himself through my touch. "I don't know how to untangle myself from all of this. But I don't want to lose you."

The honesty in his words struck me, leaving me momentarily speechless. I wanted to believe him, to hold onto the pieces of the man I'd fallen in love with, but I knew better than to ignore reality.

"Do you know who attacked you last night?" I ask, no need to sugar-coat the question that so desperately required an answer.

"Yes."