Afterlight (Fanfiction) ✓

chapter twenty-four

Chloe

THE night stretched on, thick with quiet and the kind of stillness that makes you aware of your own heartbeat. I had taken a long, hot shower, letting the steam loosen the knots in my muscles and clear the weight of the day from my skin. When I stepped out, the bathroom mirror was fogged, a ghostly blur of my reflection staring back at me.

In Justin's bedroom, the air was cooler, crisp against my damp skin. I caught sight of myself in his full-length body mirror. My reflection seemed almost foreign—tired eyes that carried the weight of a heavy week, the pale cast of my skin betraying my Californian and Italian roots. The bruises, once angry purples and blues, had begun their slow fade to muted yellows and greens. Healing, little by little.

Justin had made a point of taking care of me—three meals a day, no excuses. I was grateful, though part of me still felt odd being looked after in such a way. It was foreign, but it also felt safe.

I stood there in nothing but his black shirt and panties, the hem brushing against the tops of my thighs. Back home, Raven—my ex—had never let me wear his clothes. He said it wasn't "feminine" or "cute," like that mattered. But Justin was different. He didn't just let me; he seemed to revel in it. I always caught the stupid smirk that would spread across his face every time I pulled on one of his shirts, as if it silently affirmed something about us.

And I liked it. The scent of him lingered in the fabric, a mix of citrus, cedar and something uniquely Justin. Wearing his clothes made me feel like I belonged to a different version of myself—one I wasn't afraid to be.

I raked my fingers through my blow-dried hair, watching it settle in messy waves that seemed to defy gravity. My skin looked pale, almost translucent under the dim bedroom light. Stratford's gray skies and endless cold were draining me in ways I hadn't expected. Back in Southern California, I spent half my life basking under the sun, skin kissed golden by its warmth.

I was lost in thought when I felt a pair of strong arms snake around my waist, pulling me back into something solid and warm. I flinched instinctively, then glanced into the mirror and caught sight of Justin behind me. He was shirtless, his skin slightly damp as if he'd just come in from the cold. His hands rested firmly on my waist, his thumbs brushing lazy circles against the fabric of his shirt. My hand moved instinctively, covering his, as his breath fanned against the curve of my neck. I bit my lip at the sensation.

"Look at you," Justin said, his voice low and gravelly. His eyes met mine in the mirror, and for a moment, it was like the world narrowed to just the two of us. "You're the most beautiful person to exist."

A shiver ran down my spine, his words sinking into the spaces I didn't even know needed filling. I looked at him through the mirror, raising an eyebrow in disbelief.

"Even like this? Pale, bruised, and barely holding myself together in just your shirt?" My voice was soft, almost teasing, but the insecurity was there, threading through each word.

His lips quirked up into a faint smile, but his eyes stayed serious. "You look perfect in anything," he said, his voice firm but gentle. "Those bruises will fade, but your strength won't. That's what I see."

He kissed the top of my head, and I leaned into the warmth of him, letting his words wrap around me like a shield. His left hand slid up slowly, fingers brushing the fabric of the shirt until they reached my shoulder. Gently, he tugged the sleeve down, exposing my bare skin. His lips followed soon after, leaving soft, deliberate kisses along the curve of my shoulder.

One. Two. Three.

Each one was deliberate, a silent affirmation that I wasn't broken. That I was here. By the eighth kiss, his mouth had found its way to the crook of my neck, and I felt him pause, his lips pressing against the sensitive skin. Then he began to suck, gently but firmly, drawing out sensations that made my knees feel weak.