Control

21 - Under the Light

a/n - so its been a while! Sorry about that. It's crazy that when I posted the last chapter, it was at 600k, and now its at 788k! I never expected this story to ever ever get that much, so thank you. Please in the comments tell me what you want to see next, I really do take in your ideas and it helps me with motivation for writing! Also, chapter 22 is already up on my patreon if you want to subscribe to read it early. If not, It'll be posted in the next few days/a week. This is a long one, so buckle up!

The door to Alexander's bedroom clicked shut behind us, softer than it felt like it should have been.

The hallway was narrow and dim, the light from the kitchen barely reaching this far. For a second, I just stood there, staring at the carpet like it might give me instructions.

I was still wearing Alexander's shirt.

That felt important. Embarrassingly important. It hung off my shoulders, the hem brushing my thighs every time I shifted my weight, which I was doing a lot because suddenly I couldn't remember what to do with my body. I folded my arms across my chest, then immediately dropped them, worried that would make me look guilty. Guilty of what, I wasn't sure.

I became acutely aware of the fact that underneath the shirt, I was only wearing underwear. No pants. No socks. Bare legs. Bare feet.

Who walks into someone's kitchen like that?

I pressed my back to the wall, cool and solid, like it might hold me in place. My breath felt wrong. Too fast. Too shallow. Like I was doing it incorrectly, like I had forgotten how to breathe at all.

Enzo stopped a few steps in front of me.

He didn't say anything at first, which somehow made it worse. I tried to smile at him. It came out crooked and probably unnecessary.

Enzo was still, completely still, like he'd decided movement would only make things worse. His hair was dark and slightly damp, curling at the edges. The light from the kitchen didn't quite reach us, leaving half his face in shadow, sharpening the line of his jaw and the scruff along it. His eyes were bright in the dimness, too focused, like they were catching every little thing I was doing wrong.

He looked... solid. Not just tall, but grounded, like if I leaned the wrong way I'd bounce right off him. That made my stomach twist, because right now I felt like the opposite of that.

I dropped my gaze to the floor, suddenly very interested in the pattern of the carpet.

"I'm okay," I said quickly, because that was always the right thing to say. "I just need a second. Or, like—half a second. I'll be fine."

My lungs disagreed completely.

Enzo's gaze flicked over me, sharp and assessing. My hands. My shoulders. The way I kept tugging the hem of the shirt down like it might suddenly decide to be longer.

"Breathe," he said. No follow-up. No reassurance. Just the word, spoken evenly, like a reminder my body should already know.

I nodded, even though nodding didn't make my chest loosen. I inhaled too deeply, then immediately coughed, which was mortifying. I turned my head away, suddenly very interested in the framed artwork on the wall. It was crooked, and it bothered me. I focused on that instead.

In. Out. It's still crooked. Or am I crooked?

My shoulders dropped by a fraction. My hands stopped shaking enough that I could tuck them into the sleeves of the shirt, hiding them.

Enzo waited until my breathing evened out before moving again. Then he reached past me and opened the door to the kitchen.

The light hit me first, bright and unkind.