Stained

Chapter 49

I have my opportunity to leave. He's too distracted having a mental breakdown to notice. It's the perfect chance.

But I can't leave him like this. My heart won't allow me to do so. He didn't walk away from me when I had a mental breakdown. He didn't even cringe away like most people do. He comforted me and let me cry against his chest even though I was soaking his t-shirt with my tears. He didn't care about that though, he held me and silently consoled me through it. Didn't force me to tell him how that small movement could possibly trigger me.

I know our situations are pretty different; where I was crying, he's angry. It's stupid and reckless and dumb and crazy. He's angry. I should steer clear of him until he's calm. It's the smart thing to do, but for some strange unexplainable reason, none of that matters.

Without a single doubt in my mind, I run toward him and jump into his arms, wrapping my arms around his neck.

He instantly clings on to me — wraps his arms around my body, and tightly grips on onto the back of my neck with his hand, fisting my hair. His breathing is so loud and laboured it scares me, so I rub the back of his head and whisper encouraging calming words into his ear. "I've got you. It's okay. I'm here. It's going to be okay. You're okay. Take in a big deep breath and let it out... slowly." I repeat them and more until I feel and hear his breathing dim into a normal rhythm.

We're gripping on to each other, so firmly it's kind of painful, but it's a nice kind of pain if that makes sense.

He sits on the bed, still holding me. He pulls back a little to look at me, and his eyes wander over my face. I take the moment to inspect his. The anger appears to be gone, and he seems worn out, tired.

"Do you want to talk about it?" I ask, stroking his cheek with my thumb. I know from experience letting it out helps. And I want to help him overcome whatever caused him to become so unhinged after that phone call.

He searches my eyes for a moment, then shakes his head no.

I'm not disappointed because I understand it might be hard for him to open up to someone he just met a week ago. "That's fine. Do you want me to give you some space?"

He shakes his head harder this time. "No," his voice comes out groggy, and he tightens his arms around me as if afraid I'll disappear any second. I watch his throat move as he swallows, hesitates. "I just need you to hold me." His eyes are so wide and hopeful, his features soft, making him look vulnerable.

Those seven words, twenty letters, cause my broken helpless heart to split open at the seams and stitch back together as if it was never broken, to begin with. He needs me to hold him. Damien Axel Hunter needs me, Hazel Kaelin Klynn, to hold him.

As soon as I've wholly registered what he said, my eyes widen, and I vigorously nod my head yes. He smiles sadly and lays his head on my chest, and for once, there's nothing sexual about it as I hold him against me — well, other than the butterflies I always have when I'm around him.

I gently rake my nails over his head. In this moment, with him in my arms — it is so strange — but it feels as though I've never experienced a hug before him.

A couple of minutes into the hug, I feel something wet soaking through the back of my hoodie. I'm about to pull away, worried as to whether Damien was crying when I jumped into his arms, and that's why it's wet, but I quickly realise that my hair is wet, so it's most likely that.

Damien begins to pull away. "You must be tired."

I don't let his head get far, I press it back to me. "I'm not." The position I'm in is growing kind of uncomfortable but I don't care, as long as he's content I'll happily endure an hour.