Afterlight (Fanfiction) ✓

chapter thirty-seven

Chloe

THE aftershock of the explosion lingered in my chest like a distant thunder, rumbling softly but not breaking me. I'd expected fear to consume me when we arrived home, to collapse under the weight of what had happened. But instead, all I felt was relief. Relief that I was still alive. Relief that Justin, this man who felt like both a storm and a shelter, stood beside me. With him, I wasn't just alive—I was invincible.

Justin, however, wore a different story. His face, usually carved with sharp confidence and sly charm, was marred by something heavier. Guilt. I knew that look, it had etched itself into his features before, whenever he thought I'd been put in danger because of him. He carried the weight of the world, and tonight, it seemed, he blamed himself for the chaos.

His shoulders slumped slightly as he paced the living room, running a hand through his disheveled hair. "I shouldn't have brought you there. I should've—"

"Stop," I said softly, stepping closer.

But he didn't stop. "I keep putting you in danger, Chloe. If something had happened to you tonight—" His voice cracked, just enough for me to catch it.

Before he could spiral any further, I stepped in front of him and cupped his face with both hands, forcing his stormy eyes to meet mine. Without a word, I kissed him. The desperation in the act startled him; I felt it in the way his body tensed, caught off guard.

"Chloe," he murmured against my lips, trying to pull back, but I wasn't letting him go that easily.

I grabbed a fistful of his shirt and pulled him closer, silencing whatever self-deprecating thought was about to escape his mouth with another kiss. This one was slower, deliberate, a language all its own. I felt him begin to yield under my touch, his hands hesitantly finding my waist as though he were afraid of holding on too tightly.

"You don't get to do that," I whispered when I finally pulled away, our breaths mingling in the space between us. "You don't get to destroy yourself for protecting me."

He closed his eyes as if trying to steady himself, but when they reopened, guilt still flickered there, stubborn as ever. "I can't lose you," he said quietly, his voice raw.

"You won't." I pressed my forehead to his, tightening my grip around his neck as if I could physically anchor him to the moment. "I'm here. I'm alive. And I'm not going anywhere."

Before he could argue, I wrapped my arms tighter around his neck and jumped, locking my legs around his waist. He caught me instinctively, his hands sliding to support me, but I could still see that trace of torment in his eyes.

"You should rest after tonight," he said softly, his voice like the brush of velvet over stone.

"No," I replied, my tone firm. I leaned in, my lips brushing his ear as I whispered, "Take me to bed, but not to rest."

His grip on me faltered for a moment as his breath hitched. "Princess," he warned, his tone half-serious, half-laden with something deeper.

I tightened my legs around him, leaving no room for hesitation. "You have no idea how much I need you right now," I said, my voice low and unwavering. "So let me show you."

His resolve crumbled in the way his hands shifted, holding me closer, tighter, as if he could physically press away the ghosts of the night. Without another word, he carried me toward the bedroom, his steps steady, his gaze locked onto mine like I was the only thing anchoring him to the present. Inside his bedroom, he laid me down on his bed, his eyes never leaving mine before he leaned against me.