Trapezoid (The Base)

Chapter 33

Author's note:

People, it's 3,111 words. It's not edited well. Please put up with it.

Levi nervously munched on one of William's bag of pretzels. Watching the confounding blonde with a French braid fixing breakfast was all he could do—though he couldn't deny he enjoyed watching her. She'd removed her white hoodie. William's apron around her slender waist and the way she moved around the small kitchen with grace. . .

He scowled in disapproval of the direction of his thoughts and emptied the whole bag into his mouth, disturbed and annoyed. He had no business thinking of her in ways apart from friendship. Besides, it wasn't like she came here just to see him. She was here for business. As she placed the dish of crisp bacon, two sunny side-up eggs, and two slices of toasted bread before him with a tall glass of some orange juice she found in the fridge, she sat herself opposite him on the kitchen counter.

"You're not eating?" he asked almost icily. He didn't get her whatsoever.

She entwined her slender fingers together, her face altering back to its strained appearance. She shook her head. "I can't stomach anything right now."

"You wanna tell me what's up?" he asked while busying himself with his dish. Taking a bite, he was pleasantly surprised. He realized he'd grown accustomed to William's burned everything.

Chris silently observed him. He'd re-shaved the sides of his head—and hadn't removed a single piercing but the one she'd removed, he hadn't replaced. She fought to keep a straight face as he wolfed down his meal and went for a second round. Her eyes wandered to his upper arm, wrapped snugly in a pristine bandage. Concern welled up at also the dark bruise on his jaw. Last night must have been hectic. Was that why he also looked sleep-deprived? "How was last night?"

His classic smirk on, his dark blue orbs met hers. "Loved it," he said with a hint of steely delight, eyes almost lighting up.

"So you were up all night playing the events over and over?" She'd meant it to be a teasing comment. She hadn't expected the shadow she saw pull over. His jaw clenched, his hand absently running over his dark brown broad strip of hair. She instantly regretted her words—even though she didn't understand how they'd affected him. His fingers travelling momentarily to his shoulder and his eyes turning vacant, she instantly thought he was in some discomfort. She reached over the counter and pulled the blue cotton t-shirt's neck back to reveal the bridge of his neck and shoulder. Her hand stilled. The gruesome circular scars stared back at her.

He took a sharp intake of breath, closing his hand around hers and setting it aside. Shame took her captive. "I'm so sorry. I didn't know it hurts," she poured, burying her shameful hands in her lap. What had she done?

"It doesn't," Levi growled. Only he knew what a lie that was. Her green orbs begged for pardon. He subconsciously reached for her hand, wanting to comfort her. "You didn't hurt me. I promise."

Chris met his eyes. How was it possible for the void to speak so loudly? "I opened up an old wound, didn't I?"

Old? Maybe. But had that wound ever dared to close and begin to heal? How many psychologists had he visited? How many nights had he been tormented? No, his wound was as raw as ever.

He hardly noticed Chris moving to his side.

"You can talk to me." Her British accent was down.

Her voice was a soothing balm. He almost did, her beautiful emerald eyes bordered by dark, long eyelashes, filled with concern, compassion—and something else. But he couldn't. She was such an innocent creature, proven by the way she'd turn crimson at the sight of his body. She wasn't of this world. How could he tell her his bullet-hole scars were just a stamp of assurance of his wretched self? How could he tell of the things he'd done that would make her blush furiously—and the things that would make her go ashen from disgust of him? His eyes absorbed her gentle yet drawing countenance. He cupped the side of her face, a hint of color seeping into her cheeks. He could open up a snippet of his burden. "I'm messed up bad, Chris." He retrieved his hand moments later.