Page 492

Broken And Bruised

                Illi's POV
     I open the door to Santos's apartment, using the key he gave me. He told me to come over at seven so he could cook, however, I remember him once saying that he didn't know how to cook.
    Inside is quiet and dim. I turn on the light, and see Santos passed out on the ground, blood covering his back and smeared on the floor. I drop my knees, my phone, bag, and jacket dropping to the floor.
    The blood comes from lashes that seem to could have been from a belt. I shake his should. His eyes slowly open. He tries getting up, but winces in pain. I help him lay back down on the floor, his stomach on the ground. He takes in a sharp breath.
    "Your stomach too?" I ask. He nods. I remember my mom telling me used to fight; if he used to fight, he must have rubbing alcohol. I stand and go to the bathroom, looking through the cabinets. I find wrap, swab, and alcohol under the sink.
    As I sit back down next to him he looks at me guiltily. "I'm sorry about this," he says. I shake my head, pressing the swab to his wound. He flinches. "I should have told you about this."
   "You can tell me now if you want. You know, to distract yourself?" I say. He nods as I continue. He tells me about the abuse, his parents divorce, and that he's going to have to change the lock again. He forces himself to sit up.
    Sitting in the couch, he does his stomach himself. "This night definitely isn't going as planned." I run my hand down his face and stop on his shoulder. Looking into his eyes. "What?" He asks.
    "Nothing. Just looking at your eyes." He blushes, looking down at his lap. "I used to hate them."
    "And please tell me you like them now. I can wear contacts," he says. I smile, leaning in and kissing him. "How was work?"
    "Good," I answer. He stands up, wincing again. "What are you doing?" He limos.as he walks.
    "Making dinner like I said I would," he says. His eyes are watery as if he's going to cry, but doesn't let them fall. I stand and go over to him.
    "You go sit down, rest. I can make it real quick and maybe it'll be edible. You don't look so well," I say. He nods, looking down. He sits down at the table, looking blankly at his hands. The look in his face breaks my heart.
     I open cans of soup, put it in the pot, turn on the stove and walk over to Santos. I sit down next to him. "What's wrong? And don't say it's nothing," I say. He bites his lip. Even with a sad look on his face, him biting his lip looks extremely sexy and seductive.
    "You shouldn't of seen me like that," he says shyly, his knuckles tapping against the table. "I want you to see me as strong and brave, not weak and helpless. And it's all because of my stupid father. You know, I can remember when he was actually a genuinely good dad."   
     I place my hand on his. "When I was four, I started t-ball and he would help practice batting and pitching. Same with football and other things. But then alcohol consumed who he was and he became a dick."
     I stand up and go turn off the stove. After putting soup into bowls, I set them.down in front of us and sit down, taking his and again. "I don't see you as weak or helpless. If we want, if you want, this relationship to work, your going to have to let me in. And don't hide your feelings from me."
     He nods, taking deep breaths. "Okay. Can we just forget this ever happened and enjoy this?" I smile at him.
     ×××××××××××
       As far as my parents and brother and sister know, I'm spending the night with Leslie. Santos's hand runs up and down my leg. His shirt is big on me, going just below my butt.
    "Are you ever going to tell me your real name?" I ask out if nowhere. His eyes shoot to mine. "I mean, your sister already told me, but-"
    "Julius," he says, rolling his eyes. "I don't go by it because its my dads name and the further I can get away from him the better. I mean, if you want you can call me it. Or Jules."
    "Jules?" He grins.
    "I like that," he says getting above me, kissing me. I cup the sides of his face, deepening the kiss. He grabs my legs and wraps them around his waist, grinding against me. I've now realized he has three sides; a total dick, sweet and caring, and sexy as hell.
     "I love you," he says. My lips stop moving with his. He looks at me, waiting for my reply. "You- you know what, let's just ignore I said that." He pecks me on the lips, them moves to my neck.
   My hands rests on his broad shoulders. "I'm sorry," I say. He sits up, looking at me. "I just- I thought we had this conversation. I don't believe in-"
    "Love, I know you don't. But I do and I love you. You don't have to say it back, you never have to say it back if you don't want to. But I do hope you do one day," he says. I kiss him softly, saving the feel if his soft lips on mine.
   "Can we sleep?" He nods, laying down and pulling me against him. I throw my arm over his torso and rest my head on his chest. Hr kisses my forehead. The last thought I have before I fall asleep scared the hell out of me. He loves me.

AN: This was a bit of his sensitive side, requested by @firecrackergirl. Please comment a side of him you want to see next, it helps me with ideas!! Share! Stay alive |-/      -Veah