Something Like Shame (BWWM)

Chapter 12

...the only night we spent in such sublime paradise...

He kept a stoic silence on the entire drive, sticking to the corner of the cab, but now I could finally see him. In the harsh light of the elevator, I could see exactly what was wrong.

The ruddy skin of his brow had been broken under someone's fist. His jaw was swollen and beginning to bruise, hues of purple and yellow bloomed at the edges and a bit of his blood was smeared dry across his temple. I reached out and tried to touch his chin and inspect the rest of the damage. But, he grumbled and jerked away.

"You can't be serious." My heart dove into the pits of my stomach. "Who did this to you?"

"It's not even-"

"Tell me who did it."

"But I'm-"

"I don't care if you tripped over an eyelash. Just let me know."

"So that you can avenge me?" His lips twitched as he leaned in closer. We were nose to nose, peppermint and gravel. "Be my gallant little knight in shimmering armor."

"Stop."

"Oh, forgive me for not being in such a hurry to run to you-," He shook his head, clouded from all the wine he drained at the Cafe, "Henna, I'm a fully grown man and more than capable of taking care of myself."

"You don't have to give up your manhood. I just wanna help you and you know it." The elevator pinged, signaling our arrival and we lingered by the doors. Seconds ticked by before I made an abrupt turn for his room, pulling him in behind me.

His hotel room was messier than before; crumbled pieces of paper were thrown all over the floor, sketches from a creative outburst of sorts. I kicked off my shoes and paced across the carpet, trying to find anything with potential. But the only thing that was of help was a plastic bag full of random supplies. And to his gratitude, I discovered a full bottle of Jack Daniels lying under his desk.

"I didn't know you were a drinker."

"I'm an ex-priest, not a Saint." He slid an arm around my waist as I cleaned the cuts. A mere fifteen minutes had passed and he was already a quarter of the way through with the bottle.

My fabric bunched up as his hand moved up and down my back as we spoke and, finally they lingered at the small of my back. "Do you think we'll find him?"

"Find who?" He clenched his jaw and took another swig, grimacing. The butterfly band-aid was the finishing touch and I was done but he was definitely going to need some ice. His eye was beginning to swell and turn a deeper purple around the edges.

"Seth."

"Are you two that close of friends?" There was an edge in his voice. His hand slid lower.

"I'm still allowed to have friends, Sebastian." Slinking my way out of his reach to take a seat at the edge of the bed, I toyed with a loose string. "So, we should go look for him. We can do it now."

He shrugged, "He'll come when he's ready."

"That might be too late."

"Henna." He paused for a long, nerve-wracking moment that seemed to go on, unending, "Where do you stand? With us, I mean."

I clutched one of his pillows and pushed it against my face, "Shit, Sebastian. All I'm asking for is some fucking time. These emotions are too much and you- you've given me barely an hour while Seth is somewhere out there and I'm not okay with that..."

I felt the mattress sigh and tip toward me as he crawled closer. He pulled the pillow away from my face and wiped away a tear with his sleeve, "Okay. I hear you. There's no need for the vulgarity." Speaking against my lips, the sweet taste of liquor and him, "And I'm sorry. Don't cry. Please, don't cry."