Beautiful People

Forty Two: 'Til Dawn

Keia's POV

I opened my front door and found a very upset looking Cyrus leaned against the wall in the sexy way he usually did, only now he was looking down. I felt so compelled to comfort him because I do very rarely so him looking so... me.

I immediately cupped his face with both hands and looked into his eyes.

"What happened, Cy?"

He had nothing with him at all. Not even a jacket.

He walked in coldly. I felt a bit hurt by his silent treatment. I closed the door behind him as he paced around the main room. His dark green shirt had blood stains on it and his robot arm had purple marks too. I panicked and was worried he got into a bad fight.

I walked up to him forced him to a halt.

I gave him a waiting stare as I held him in place with my hands up on his shoulders. His eyes watered a bit and because of how rarely I saw him like this, I felt a portion of his pain.

He sat down on the couch with his elbows on his knees and his hands holding his temples as he looked down and took deep breaths.

I kneeled in front of him and placed a steady hand on his upper arm. He looked up at me only with his eyes. I gazed back patiently.

"I ran away."

" Why? " I was startled but still remembered to say it softly.

"I couldn't stand him. I just can't live like this anymore," he shook his head and clenched his jaw in rage. " He thinks he's got th right to discriminate people he doesn't even know-"

"Wait! Don't tell me you ran away because your father insulted.. me?"

He looked aside. The answer was clear as crystal .

I looked at his blood stained shirt and started to tremble.

I was struggling to breathe. I moved back.

"Keia? What's wrong?" He gave all his attention to me now. I felt so afraid and yet, all he could think about was dumb old me.

"Did-did he, did he cut you?" I pointed to his shirt and bloody palm.

"No, no," he realised. "You have it all wrong. I didn't get hurt."

" Then whose blood is that? "

"His." He said it like it was simple. Like it didn't seem to make him look like a serial killer the way his eyes lit up at the thought of his father's blood spilt on his hands.

I could feel the blood drain from my face. He saw it too and realised how wrong this looked.

"I didn't kill him..." He trailed off unsurely .

"But he just insulted me. You didn't have to.." I gulped at the thought of what may have happened. I knew the way Cyrus could stay so happy meant he must have a lot of kept up anger. I could only imagine what transpired when he decided to take things into action.

"It wasn't just the insult. It was everything I've felt my whole life."

"I get it," I really did. Although I didn't have the experience to prove it.

He still looked teary but held them back so well, you would think they were just glued there.

"What really is it?" I asked. Immediately regretted it the moment Cyrus' rage filled eyes land on me. I was hurt.

"Sorry. I-I'll go find you something to eat," I squeaked.

I stood up immediately, trying to keep the tears from falling. I could handle not cracking even one at school but something about Cyrus being mad at me broke my heart.

I couldn't fight it for long. I let them fall silently as I heated up some lasagne for him. I stared into the microwave's screen absently as I will myself to stop crying while the food turned and turned around into the little box.

I tugged at my hair nervously and shed tear after tear, biting my lower lip to stop me from making a sound.

I suddenly felt a warm rush of spirit flow through me as a toned chest pressed against my back and arms wrapped around me. He lay his head on top of mine as he wiped away my tears with his fingers.

"I'm so so sorry, I didn't mean to hurt you," he whispered delicately.

I sniffed a bit. He held my waist tighter and I felt so flushed. My heart was racing fast at the sudden closeness between our bodies. I remembered when the boys would sometimes sneak into our changing room at least once a month since the fifth grade. Cyrus had been one of them. At the back of the crowd of rude boys. He would laugh at our horrified young faces.

I couldn't do this.

I moved away as quickly as possible. I pretended to go get a plate for him while I snuck a look at his face. It was embarrassed. Very embarrassed.

I walked over to the microwave and took out his lasagne. He sat down and ate while I stared into space. After sometime, he spoke.

"I left him. I had to leave my brother alone, unprotected. I just.. I can't live with myself if he gets hurt like I did. The kid has a great future a head of him. I just want to keep it that way."

We fell silent again until I spoke.

"I wish I had a sibling as great as you. To keep me safe, to help out. To just exist long enough to be my family. For a longer period of time," I said.

" Do you miss them? " He asked.

"No. I hate them. But I can't really, you know," I replied.

"I do." He stated. " I worry about you, KJ. "

I looked at him, puzzled.

"You seem so out so often. Like you could slip through the cracks at any second," his eyes darted into mine and for a split second, they looked horrified by the idea.

" Now, I already told you that I'm not going anywhere. "

"I know but it wouldn't be out of your own doing. It never is. "

"Please don't say that," I rushed. I pause and sigh before I contradict myself.

"But I look at the future and I find it hard to believe that we can win the case. And I don't know how I could handle prison. I can't, I just can't," I said.

"That's not what I meant." He pulled me into a side hug and said, " Let's just enjoy the present, right? "

He stood up and spin my seat around so I could face him. I was only wearing a cream old t-shirt and my white pjama shorts without a bra on. I felt too vulnerable near him.