Devoid [Bruno Mars]

Chapter thirty-one

Chapter thirty-one

I had been drifting somewhere in between the lines of dream and reality when I heard Bruno come in, the morning sun rays shining subdued through the ceiling to floor window. I hadn't caught sight of him; he left me unbothered, making a beeline to his room.

I threw the blanket off me, struggling to remember how I got here on the couch. I didn't remember the blanket, either. 

I stood stiffly as Bruno emerged sliding on a leather jacket. He did not spare me a glance. I called out his name. He continued his proceeding, responded flatly, “I'm going out.”

Before I could think and blink away the disorientation of half sleep, I dashed forward. My hand made it just in time, landing firmly on his shoulder. Bruno turned and looked at me. For a second I could only stare. His eyes were rimmed red and shadowed as they returned my gaze.

“Again?” I asked, letting my hand slip to his chest in a soft caress. I could feel his heart beat, strong and steady despite the AI, under my fingers. “Where are you going?”

“Out,” was all he said, reaching for the exit.

I moved swiftly between him and the door, putting my hands behind me to protect the handle. Bruno's lips tightened. “You went out all last night,” I said. “You had me worried sick. Where did you go?”

“I can't leave without being questioned now?” He placed both of his arms on either side of my head, boxing me in. “Well, I have a question for you, Adrian. What did you do to get the medicine, huh? You went to Joseph”— his lip curled sourly at the name—“you were gone for hours, and you reek of him.”

“He lives far, that's why I was gone for so long,” I explained, desperately hoping he'd believe me. “For the medicine. . . he asked me to forgive him, that's all.”

Bruno laughed at that. It sounded foreign, as though it was coming from someone else, not him. The smell of bleach and other chemicals clung to his skin like a coat. “You fucked him.”

My stomach wrenched terribly at his bluntness. “He would never ask that of me.”

His voice rose incredulously. “Yeah? He wouldn't? That's what he wanted from you in Grim and he still does,” he said, voice turning falsely fanatic and bright. “It's all so great for him now isn't it, Dri? He's got us in his control. He could do whatever the fuck he wants with you, like you're his toy to be played with. If I see him, I'll kill him,” he growled the last words.

He couldn't mean it. Bruno wasn't the type to spill blood. Then why did I feel a slip of fear down my spine at his promise? “He's changed, Bruno. He wants to help us.”

“You can't believe that bullshit.” He scanned my eyes fiercely with his own. “He wants to help himself to you. He could give a shit about me. What? He gives you a sob story and now he's suddenly good? I wish you weren't so goddamn naive. He's a disgusting piece of shit who doesn't deserve your sympathy—doesn't deserve any sympathy! Fuck him and fuck Josephine.” Again, he laughed, a breathy laugh that bowed his head and made his shoulders move. A laugh that masked pain.

“Bruno,” I whispered, tears stinging my eyes.

His head snapped up, mouth twitching. “It's good that you didn't sleep with him though. That means I didn't throw the medicine out for nothing.”

I gasped, paralyzing in the house of his arms. Bruno smiled, but just as quickly it began to fade. “You wouldn't let him touch you, would you?”