Intoxicating

Pretend That You Love Me

Leia's POV

I wasn't sure what day it was anymore. Five days? Six? Time blurred together down here, the basement becoming my whole world.

At first, I was terrified. I didn't sleep, barely ate, and flinched every time he moved. I thought for sure he'd hurt me. But he never did.

Timothée hadn't touched me. Not once.

He just talked.

Every day, he sat beside me, his voice soft, coaxing. Telling me things I wanted so badly to believe. That he loved me. That he was doing this for us. That I was safest with him.

I'd refused to listen at first, turning my head away, curling into myself whenever he tried to get close. But the longer I was here, the harder it became to shut him out.

Because he wasn't cruel. He wasn't screaming or threatening me. He brought me food, made sure I drank water, even tucked a blanket around me when I was cold.

The Timothée I knew was still there, wasn't he?

The boy I'd loved.

The boy who had saved me.

I kept repeating that in my head, like a prayer.

He saved me.

I blinked back tears as I looked over at him now. He was watching me, waiting, like he always did. Like he knew I'd finally come around.

Maybe he was right.

Maybe I'd been fighting this for nothing.

Because if he was so dangerous, if he was truly a monster, why did I feel safe when he was near?

Timothée scooted closer, his knee brushing against mine, and I felt my breath hitch. I kept my gaze on the floor, on that same spot I'd been staring at for days, but something in me shifted. Slowly, I turned my head to look at him.

His green eyes searched mine, filled with something almost... gentle. Like he was waiting, giving me a choice.

I swallowed hard. I should have pulled away. I should have screamed at him, hit him, done something-but I didn't.

Because deep down, I knew the truth.

No one else was coming for me.

No one else cared like he did.

Timothée lifted a hand, hesitating for just a second before tucking a strand of my hair behind my ear. His fingers lingered against my skin, warm and familiar. I let out a shaky breath.

"You're starting to understand, aren't you?" he murmured, his voice soft, coaxing.

I wanted to tell him no. I wanted to tell him I hated him.

But the words didn't come.

Because I did understand.

He loved me.

And love meant protection, didn't it?

Tears burned the back of my eyes as I nodded, just barely. It was enough for him. He sighed in relief, cupping my cheek like I was the most precious thing in the world.

"I knew you would," he whispered, pressing his forehead against mine.

And God help me, I didn't pull away.

I leaned over slowly, resting my head against Timothée's shoulder. His warmth seeped into me, and I shuddered at how safe it felt. My fingers trembled as I reached for his hand, and without hesitation, he intertwined his fingers with mine. His grip was steady, strong-like he was anchoring me to him.