Faded Echoes || LINGORM ✓

CHAPTER 15

Orm's Point of View

I caught her just in time, her fragile body collapsing in front of me. My arms instinctively wrapped around her, her weight leaning into me as her consciousness slipped away. A thousand questions spun in my mind, each one more urgent than the last. Why was she here? How had she managed to drive herself, drunk as she was?

I didn't even think before scooping her up and going to my bedroom, each step burdened with uncertainty. She was gently laid down on the bed without waking her with hasty movements. I then moved to the bathroom and came back with a basin full of warm water and returned to her side. I gently took her hand, using a towel to wipe away the remnants of the night on her skin, my heart breaking with every tender stroke.

The smell of alcohol clung to her, starkly reminding me of her choices. Ling wasn't the kind of person to drink much—she was a light drinker, at most. Why had she done this?

As I finished ministering to her, I rose to my feet, putting the basin back in the bathroom. It felt a degree colder than when I came out, so I turned off the AC, got back into my seat next to the bed, and sat. My eyes focused on her silent face. So silent, so motionless, yet I knew everything would shift instantly.

I reached out, quivering fingers caressing her cheek, as if afraid she'd disappear. "I missed you," I whispered, my voice barely audible. A bitter smile curved my lips, but the tears came anyway, flowing freely down my face. I didn't try to stop them. This was my one chance—to hold her, see her, touch her like this. But soon she'd wake up again, and it would all come flooding back like usual.

I'd get if she was angry; I'd get if she tried pushing me away, for it is I who broke her, hurt her, made her so lost and broken.

A sob cramped my chest, but I was biting down so hard on the lower lip it hurt. Fighting down the sound. "I'm sorry," I whispered, my voice catching in my throat. "I'm sorry, Ling."

The pain in my chest was unbearable, but I couldn't bring myself to leave. I stroked her hair, the familiarity of the motion making my chest ache even more. "I missed doing this," I murmured, lost in the memory of who we once were.

I kept staring at her, my heart pounding in my ears. Her steady breathing was the only thing that could ground me. Then I caught sight of her eyelids fluttering, and I instinctively jerked my hand back. I was holding my breath, waiting for her to wake up.

Her eyes opened slowly, meeting mine, and in that instant, I saw the raw pain there—the kind of pain I had caused. I looked away, unable to bear it.

"Ling..." Her voice was barely a whisper, but it cut through me like a knife. 

"Orm..." She breathed, her hand reaching for my face, her fingers grazing my cheek, sending a shiver down my spine.

I closed my eyes now that the streams of tears have become unshackled; her touch seemed a balm to soothe, and another that hurt deep into the flesh within. I wheezed for air, for I couldn't help myself against these deluges rolling down.

"Ling, y-you're drunk," I stuttered with a fragile voice.

But she was not listening. Her fingers traced the outline of my face—my cheek, my brow, my lips. My heart ached with every touch. I tried to stop her, but my hands trembled too much to hold on.

"Stop," I whispered hoarsely. "You should sleep."

But she ignored me, her gaze locked on mine, full of questions I didn't have answers to. "You're so unfair, Orm," she murmured, her voice breaking. "Why do you keep hurting me?"

I couldn't find the words to explain. I couldn't tell her the truth, not like this. "I... I know," I whispered. "I'm sorry."

She trembled, her voice trembling as she continued, "Why did you leave me? Why did you hurt me? Are you happy now? Do you enjoy seeing me like this?"

My heart shattered at the sound of her pain, but I couldn't give her the answers she needed—not yet. Not like this.

"No," I choked out. "I don’t enjoy seeing you hurt. But. I can’t fix this right now." My voice faltered. "I just want you to be sober when we talk. Please."

But she refused to let it go. Her voice became desperate, tears streaming down her face. "No, Orm, I need to hear it now. I need to know why you left me, why you hurt me. I want to move forward."

My heart cracked open at her words, but I didn't say anything. I couldn't respond to her now, not when I knew she'd forget it by morning. "Let's talk tomorrow," I said, my voice barely above a whisper. "When you're sober."

"Why do you keep avoiding me?" she demanded, her voice breaking. "Why can't you give me an answer?"

I shook my head, my throat tight. "I don't want you to say things you don't mean. Not when you're like this."

But she wouldn't back down. "Why? So you can see me break again when I hear the truth?" she asked, her voice shaking with raw emotion.

"N-No," I stammered, my eyes avoiding hers. "I want you to be clear when you hear it. I want you to be sober, Ling."

She sighed, the sound heavy with defeat. But then, as if making a decision, she nodded, her tears still flowing freely.

"You can stay here," I whispered, my voice almost distant as I stood to straighten the bed. I couldn't look at her. I couldn't bear it.

But then, I felt her hand on my wrist, pulling me back, and before I knew it, I was stumbling onto her. Her face was that close, her eyes locked onto mine, and I could see the hurt, confusion, and yearning in them.

I didn't know what to do. "Ling, what are you—"

She dragged me in close, and her mouth crashed onto mine in a kiss that was so forceful that it took my breath away.