EUPHORIA

Stitches

Before I start this chapter I would like to give a big mention to Li8ness_Death who I accidentally used one of her story ideas go check them out I love their stories)

The room was dim, illuminated only by the faint glow of the bedside lamp. Shadows danced across the walls, casting long, flickering shapes that seemed to close in on them. The air was thick with the scent of antiseptic, and the quiet hum of the outside world felt distant, almost unreal.

Damian sat on the edge of the bed, his shirt discarded and a deep gash stretching across his abdomen. His muscles were tense, his posture rigid, but his expression remained unreadable-stoic, as always. His emerald eyes flickered in the soft light, hiding more than they revealed.

Raven knelt in front of him, her hands steady as she threaded the needle. The small, silver instrument caught the light, glinting briefly before she turned her attention back to him. The silence between them was heavy with unspoken words, a fragile tension that neither dared to break too abruptly. It wasn't the silence of comfort-it was the silence of shared burdens, of things left unsaid for too long.

"This might sting," she murmured, her voice soft but focused, almost detached in its calm.

Damian met her gaze, his eyes dark and unwavering. "I've had worse."

A hint of a smirk tugged at her lips, a shadow of her usual wit. "That doesn't mean it won't hurt."

He didn't respond, but his eyes softened just a little, watching her intently as she began her work. The needle pierced his skin, and though his jaw tightened, he didn't flinch. His training had taught him to endure pain-to expect it. But this was different. This was her hands, careful and gentle, stitching him back together.

"Why didn't you wait for me?" she asked quietly, breaking the silence like a stone cast into still water. Her voice held no accusation, only a quiet concern that seemed to echo in the room. "You went in alone."

Damian's eyes flicked to hers, a shadow passing through them. "You know why."

Her fingers paused briefly before resuming their careful work. "You can't keep doing this, Damian. You can't carry everything on your own."

The weight of her words settled between them, heavy and unyielding. He didn't reply immediately, the silence stretching out until it was almost unbearable. Finally, he spoke, his voice low and rough. "I can't let anything happen to you."

Raven paused, her eyes lifting to meet his. There was a vulnerability there, just beneath the surface-a crack in the armor he so carefully maintained. She saw it, felt it, and it made her chest tighten. "You don't have to protect me from everything," she whispered. "We're a team."

His hand reached out, gently tucking a strand of her hair behind her ear. The touch was so light, so unexpected, that it sent a shiver down her spine. "I know," he said softly. "But I can't help it."

She held his gaze, her expression softening. There was so much she wanted to say, so much she wanted him to understand. But words had always been difficult for them, too clumsy and inadequate to express what lingered in the spaces between their silences.

Returning to the task at hand, she resumed stitching, her fingers working with practiced precision. Each stitch was a silent promise, a tether that bound them together in a way neither of them could fully articulate.

When she finished, she cut the thread and set the needle aside, her hand lingering on his skin. "There," she said softly. "All done."

Damian's eyes never left hers, the tension in his shoulders easing slightly. "Thank you."

She smiled faintly, her fingers brushing lightly over the fresh stitches, tracing the edges of the wound as if she could take away some of the pain through touch alone. "Just don't make this a habit."

He smirked, the corner of his mouth lifting slightly. "No promises."

She rolled her eyes but couldn't hide the affection in her gaze. "Come on. You need to rest."

As she started to stand, his hand shot out, catching her wrist. His grip was firm but gentle, his fingers wrapping around her like a lifeline.

"Wait."

She looked down at him, surprised. "What is it?"

He didn't answer immediately, his eyes searching hers, probing for something unspoken. Finally, his voice came, low and rough, barely above a whisper. "You're not hurt, are you?"But before she could answer he saw red soaking through her shirt.

Raven started to walk away, determined to put distance between herself and Damian's concern. But before she could take another step, a firm hand wrapped around her waist. His grip was gentle yet unyielding, fingers pressing into the warmth of her skin-skin soft like velvet, even as he felt the troubling seeping of blood through her side.

"Where do you think you're going?" Damian's voice was low, a mix of worry and quiet intensity.

"Damian, I'm fine-"

She barely finished the words before he pulled her down into his lap, a careful but firm motion. His arm wrapped around her waist, holding her steady as her legs folded beside him. She stiffened slightly, surprise flickering in her eyes, but he kept her close, anchoring her in place.

His touch was protective, almost possessive, and he didn't give her room to argue. "You're not going anywhere," he muttered, the needle and thread already poised to finish the stitches she hadn't allowed him to see to.

The string hung between his teeth as he worked, his focus unwavering. One hand kept her steady against him, while the other moved with practiced precision, each stitch methodical. The heat of his skin against hers was a stark contrast to the sting of the needle, and yet, she barely felt it-his presence eclipsed everything else.

"You shouldn't have hidden this," he said quietly, his voice edged with both frustration and concern. "You were going to bleed out."

Raven's breath hitched, her eyes softening as she watched him. "You were hurt too. I had to-"

He didn't let her finish. "You come first. Always."

His hand tightened slightly on her waist, fingers pressing into her skin as if to remind her of his presence. Each stitch was a silent promise, a tether that bound them together. She felt her pulse steady, the warmth of his touch grounding her in a way that words never could.

As Damian finished the last stitch, he bit off the thread with precision, setting the needle aside. His eyes softened, the tension in his brow easing as he looked at her.

Without a word, he cupped her face gently with one hand, the other still resting on her waist, and pressed a soft kiss to her forehead. It was brief, yet filled with meaning-a silent vow of protection, love, and reassurance.

The warmth of his lips lingered even as he pulled back, his eyes searching hers.

"There," he whispered, his voice softer now. "All done."

He let her go, his hand sliding from her waist, though his presence remained just as close. Raven took a steadying breath, the ache of her wound now a distant thing compared to the quiet comfort he offered.

For a moment, neither of them spoke, the room filled with the unspoken understanding that, no matter the wounds or the battles they faced, they would always find their way back to each other.