Perfect. [Completed]

Chapter 58. Healing Wounds

A/N

Annnnnnnd before we begin I invite you all to take a look at the amazing art made by melathecat12

The Romara is so strong here! Thank you so much for making it! 💚

Xara's POV.

After Romeo calmed down a little bit he excused himself and went up to have a shower, although I suspected it was more to hide from me than to actually clean himself up. Guilt once again was swirling inside me, and gosh, did I hate it! Knowing that it was me fault he had been reminded of that nightmare, knowing so well that if it wasn't for my carelessness he would still be okay! And maybe, maybe he would've allowed me to take his hand for a moment or so.

"Stupid." I growled to myself, turning the water on in the tub and using it to wash my wounds. It was stinging, but nothing I hadn't experienced already. If anything, I deserved that for not paying enough attention to Romeo, for bringing his nightmares back for him.

Once my wounds were relatively clean, I just wrapped them in bandages and sighed in relief. It was the last day. The last day of the hosting. In about 24 hours John Doe would come, expecting me to give my friend away, to put him through that final stage of the reformation... Even though neither of us knew what it was, I hated just the thought of it.

And in 24 hours I would step between the redhead and that heartless, ruthless doctor and say loudly that there would be no way I would even consider sending Romeo away. Oh, just the confusion in those blue eyes of that so-called doctor, the startled sounds that would definitely escape his throat once I shut the door in front of him, once he realises there's nothing he can do to make me change my mind.

And then Romeo would definitely hug me and cover me with his plaid, and then I would hug him back and tuck my head under his chin. And I would say something like: "You're free now, you're free...". And then we would go to Beacon Town together, and though people would stare at us and whisper, we wouldn't care. Yeah...

And then we would buy him more clothes, of all colours he would be able to imagine, just not white, and when we get back home we will take all of his prison clothing and... And burn it in a fireplace! Yeah! And we'll be sitting on front of it, him leaning against me and his eyelids heavy, and then I will turn my head and look at him again and say... Say... What will I say?

My imagination, which was thankfully working a lot better than my memory, didn't have time to come up with something adorable and caring for me to say, because my head snapped up at the sound of footsteps. Romeo had walked downstairs, his beautiful hair now wet and his skin clean of all dirt, but slightly red due to the hot water he had been using.

Now I could better see a couple of scratches he had received during his night outside, and pain stung me when I realised it was my fault. But the pain was shushed because there were no serious injuries. If there were, I was sure as heck I would've been beating myself up, and not only mentally.