Devils and Angels

xxi. delaying the inevitable

w a b i - s a b i

the discovery of beauty in imperfection

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CASPIAN'S EYES SEARCHED MINE, AND they were devoid of all their usual warmth. I felt vulnerable under the weighted intensity of his stare; haunted, cloudy blue eyes now mesmerising, gripping, paralysing, to the point where I couldn't drop my eyes if I tried.

I shifted, clasped my hands in my lap, but my gaze was still locked, entangled with his, nothing else visible in the pinnacle of darkness. My breath hitched, and I prayed to find comfort in those eyes, above all, and if nothing else.

But his stare remained stone cold, and it pressed into my skin with a shiver.

"Don't look at me like that," I protested, against the biting breeze that carved patterns across my lips. "You don't know anything."

"Don't I?" He challenged, leaning back. An eyebrow was raised, daring me to fight him. "I just want to know if you're trying to tell me something."

"Something like what?" I retorted, but as the words fell from my lips, I knew they were lacking in their usual fire. It showed vulnerability, it showed weakness, but I'd rather be chipped and flawed in front of someone that mirrored my broken pieces.

"Like." He paused for a breath, then took one of my wrists in his large hand, a thumb delicately brushing against the marred surface, where the scar dug deep into my skin. "This?"

I wrenched my wrist from his grasp. "I don't even know where that came from," I uttered. "You know I've always had these. I―it's not about me, Caspian."

"You're not telling me anything, so how am I meant to know?" He countered smoothly, and his arm came to rest over the back of the porch swing. The knuckles of his right hand just grazed my shoulder blade, and I edged myself away from his touch. "It's scary. You're scaring me, Tia."

"Well, I'm just as scared, so I'm sorry I can't make it easier on you," I snapped, drawing my arms in around myself. A lock of hair escaped from behind my ear and fell in front of my eye. I didn't push it away. "I'm sorry. Okay? I'm sorry. But, Arch, he―he tried to...hurt himself. Tonight. And I don't know what I'd do without him. He still blames me―," A tear slipped from my eye, and fell onto Caspian's jacket, leaving a dark, heart-shaped stain. "But I'd rather him be alive and blaming me, than dead and...not."

"Why aren't you with him?" Caspian's voice was considerably softer. "Why are you here with me?"

"He's with Ayden." I forced a smile, even though the name drop was tearing my heart in half. Ayden the lover, Ayden the liar, Ayden the traitor.

"Tia, I don't think you heard me," He murmured, shaking his head and pushing his hair out of his eyes. "Why are you here, with me, when you think it was my fault? I know you. I know you don't suddenly believe my innocence."

As if to prove his point, he reached for my hand but mine darted away before his fingers could clasp to mine. "See?"

"I see nothing," I replied, near toneless. It wasn't him though―not this time. It was how his eyes shone blue, just like his, and how he sounded so rough and mournful, just like him. Everything about Caspian was morphing to Ayden, and my walls were crumbling inward, collapsing with a new wave of tears. "There's just no point blaming you, not when I―not when I know who it was."

I toyed with my hands again. The sticky, congealing texture of blood was reminiscent, and no matter how I scrubbed my hands on my skirt, it seemed to linger, stubborn and indefinite.