Cinders [Completed]

Chapter 55: Home

[Like Real People Do - Hozier]

//tw: trauma, PTSD, violence//

In total, Orion was gone for 41 days.

At first, I don't know how I know this. I don't count them up, looking at a calendar, and no one tells me. But I was keeping track of them all, on my own, something under my skin that I didn't know what there. I counted each of those 41 days as they happened. I can't forget a single one.

Goddess, I wish I could.

-

It's so strange, when we first arrive. I didn't realize how neat I had been keeping our room. It is almost ominously sterile and spotless, everything straightened to military precision. It doesn't look as if someone lives here.

Orion is standing beside me, as tall and beautiful as always. I can't quite seem to care so much about our room. I'm more worried about the dark circles still haunting Orion's gaunt face and how to get rid of them.

He takes a breath, and even with that small movement, it feels a bit more like home. I want the air to carry his scent, again.

Orion moves towards the bathroom door but stops before he gets far, looking at me softly.

"Lee," he says gently, "I'm just going to take a shower. 20 minutes, tops."

I tense, but nod. This makes sense. The doctors had scrubbed him clean a million times, but it's been so long since he had a decent shower, warm and familiar.

"Okay."

"Lee," he repeats quietly, and I look down and see that my knuckles are turning white where they are latched on to his hand.

"Oh," I say stupidly. I try to force my fingers to relax, but they fight against me in a survival instinct. It would be like letting go of a breath under water.

Slowly, agonizingly, my fingers break out of the claw. I release a breathy laugh.

"See you in 20 minutes," I say. It's supposed to make my stress seem funny and clear the anxiety from the air, but my voice shakes and it just makes my desperation that much clearer. 20 minutes is easy, I tell myself. Just the first 20 normal, non surgical minutes that you'll be apart since he's been saved. It will be good to rip the bandage off.

But I can hear my heartbeat speeding in my chest. Orion must hear it too, because he reaches out and takes back my hand. I hold it lightly, afraid of getting too attached again.

"Mmm," he ponders faux-casually, "there is a new initiative for reducing water waste. Join me?"

My shoulders relax.

The shower is already sending tendrils of steam sticking to the mirror. I wince as Orion attempts to casually take off his shirt before taking a sharp, pained breath.

"Here," I step forward, familiar with the problem. Either the wounds are reopening from his movement - unlikely, with his healing - or he's straining muscles that are still recovering from the trauma. I've had to go through it alone before. I won't let him.

Orion puts his arms down. I carefully begin to pull his shirt up across his skin. "Alrighty, now carefully lift this arm."

Orion keeps his eyes from me, his expression darkening with shame. I place the shirt on the bathroom counter.

"Maybe you should take a bath instead," I say warily, examining his wrists, still slightly red and raw. My own hands are finally free of bandages. They did scar. I don't look at them, very much.