Something In The Way-SYLUS X MC X ZAYNE

VIII "Carry On"

The trees stretched endlessly above us, ancient and uncaring, their blackened branches clawing at the bruised sky. The air was thick with the damp scent of moss and wet earth, swallowing every sound but the furious pounding of my heart.

I stood there in front of him, my fists clenched at my sides, trembling with a rage that was not rage at all, but something far more desperate.

"Help me kill him," I breathed.

The words left my lips like a prayer, sharp and broken, each syllable laced with a pain I could no longer hide.

He said nothing. He only stared at me with those infernal crimson eyes, steady and unblinking, a tether to a world I was trying so hard to destroy. There was no judgment in his gaze, no mockery. Only a quiet understanding that cut deeper than any sword.

He knew. He knew this wasn't about Caleb. Not entirely.

Still, he nodded once, the motion slow and deliberate, like the silent promise of a man ready to burn the world if I asked him to.

The knot in my chest tightened unbearably.

"And kiss me," I whispered, my voice cracking, the dam finally giving way. "Please."

I didn't wait.

I lunged forward, clutching at him like a woman drowning, my fingers fisting the fabric of his jacket, pulling him down to me. His arms caught me with a gentleness that undid me completely, gathering me to his chest like something precious, something already lost.

His mouth found mine, slow and aching, an attempt to soothe the wild, frantic way I kissed him. His lips moved against mine with a patience I didn't deserve, breathing tenderness into the violence of my need.

I gasped against him, tears flooding my eyes, burning hot against my cold cheeks.

"I hate you," I choked between kisses, the words trembling, furious. "I hate you for this. For making me feel things I don't understand. For lying. For twisting everything inside me."

He pulled back slightly, his forehead resting against mine, his breath ragged, his hands trembling where they held me.

I saw it in his eyes then—the pain, the war, the endless question he could never bring himself to ask.

Before he could retreat into that silence he used like armor, I grabbed him again, my fingers digging into his shirt.

"Take me," I whispered, the words raw, spilling from a place deeper than thought. "Please. Take me. I don't want to think. I don't want to feel anything but you."

He froze. For a moment, I thought he would push me away. I saw the hesitation flicker across his face, saw the way he fought against himself.

But the fire between us was older than either of us could understand.

He crushed his mouth against mine, feverish now, desperate. His hands roamed over my body with a hunger that matched the wildfire burning inside me. Fingers tracing the curve of my hips, the slope of my back, pulling me closer until there was no space left between us.

We fell to our knees together, the world spinning, the forest floor cold and wet against my skin.

I clung to him like he was the only thing keeping me alive, sobbing into his mouth, into his touch, until he pulled back, just slightly, just enough to see my face.

A tear slipped down my cheek.

He caught it with his thumb, his expression breaking into something so tender, so agonizing, I could barely breathe.