𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐬𝐞〚𝚙𝚘𝚙𝚎 𝚑𝚎𝚢𝚠𝚊𝚛𝚍 〛

Chapter 15

"Aunt Elise?" called out Delilah as she pushed open the door to their mansion. "Uncle Ross?"

The car hadn't been in the driveway when they had arrived, which had been a surprise. But on the kitchen table sat a short note with a reasonable explanation for the late expedition.

Gone to decorate the beach club for Midsummers! said the paper with her aunt's delicate cursive.

The knot of nerves that had formed at the bottom of her stomach at the thought of explaining why she was bringing a bloodied boy home after dark slowly untangled. At least she wouldn't have to come up with an excuse.

"Would Mr. and Mrs. Thompson mind the fact that a Pogue was in their house?" grimaced Pope, careful not to dirty the carpets.

"Of course not," she said, shifting her aching shoulder. "They don't mind who comes with me as long as they're my friends."

"I'm your friend?"

She rolled her eyes with a smile. "God, you must be on the verge of blacking out. Of course you are."

He laughed, despite the evident pain in his chest.

"Almost there," she panted, the adrenaline suddenly leaving her system and feeling the strain of dragging around a teenage boy twice her size.

They climbed the stairs leading to her room and Pope did her the favour of removing a bit of his weight from her shoulders. Finally, she pushed open the door to her bedroom, kicking it closed when they were inside. 

Pope whistled as he looked around, taking in the size and design of the room. "Impressive."

Delilah smiled. "All thanks to my aunt. I have a horrible sense of design."

The room was painted in gray and white, matching the bedsheets and closets. It was relatively simple, much simpler than Rafe's room, but somber enough to fit her taste. Luckily for her, she had an adjoined bathroom and was able to drop her friend on a bench where she usually threw her towel and clothes before jumping in the shower.

"Don't move," she ordered.

Pope watched as her petite body and blonde pixie cut disappeared from his view. He couldn't help but notice how her body moved with the harmony befitting a dancer. Her walk was supple and silent, as if she was always prepared to break out in a run. 

Before he could think about the way her hips swayed, he leaned his head back against the wall, taking a deep breath. His cheeks felt warm, and he was almost certain it wasn't because of his injuries.

"I've got everything, and I made sure someone would warn your parents that you're here with me."

He hadn't heard her come back, and his previous thoughts made him avert his eyes, although he was relieved that his parents wouldn't be worried. But her fingers on his cheek forced him to look at her. 

He had never noticed her eyes before. The green melting into honey made him wonder how her eyes didn't shine brighter in the sunlight.

"These should fade," she muttered, lightly touching the bruises on his face.

Strangely, her feathery touch didn't hurt, leaving trails of fire on his cheeks. He flinched as she pressed a damp cloth to his injuries, washing away the dried blood.

"Topper didn't miss you," she said, and he could feel the underlying fury in her tone.

Flames of anger danced in her eyes, highlighting the gold flakes of her irises. 

Her emotions were displayed in their rawest form through the shades of colour fighting for their place in such beautiful eyes. It was distracting. 

By the time he had snapped out of his contemplation, Delilah had finished cleaning up his face. She pursed her lips, softly touching his and making him suck in a sharp breath.

"Sorry," she apologized, not realizing that it wasn't the pain that made it hard for him to focus. "That moron busted your lip."

Even then, the pain that numbed his face couldn't compare to the sting that Topper's hands had left on his throat. He could still remember how the boy had squeezed his throat, choking him. Life had slipped through his fingers with his every breath, which became shorter by the second. 

But when he had thought the angel appearing would bring him to the afterlife, she had saved him. With an impressive uppercut.

"Hey," whispered his angel. "You there?"

He blinked back to reality, her presence making him forget about his fear. 

Making a movement he had never thought he would be courageous enough to make, Pope wrapped his hand around hers. His cheeks heating up, he slid his thumb over her swollen knuckles.

"Does it hurt?" he asked, not knowing exactly what to say.

It was a dumb question, a question he knew she would ignore. Pope knew she hated complaining. 

Delilah blinked, surprised by his movement.

"A small price compared to you," she said, distracted.

"Where did you learn how to fight like that?"

She laughed. "A long story."

"And we have lots of time," he smiled, noticing how she didn't take away her hand.

Delilah rolled her eyes, a smile tugging at her lips. "Fine. When I was younger, I loved playing sports, but I was usually the only girl around, so I was picked on." She sighed. "And underestimated. So, I started playing rough and pushing the boys around just as much as they pushed me. Slowly, I earned their respect. Or at least, for most of them." Her eyes had a faraway look. "Others hated me with a passion and wasted no opportunity to corner me after school. Then, one summer, Rafe taught me how to fight." 

Pope stiffened without meaning to, and she squeezed his hand in comfort. 

Her voice saddened. "I learned how to be tough, and people left me alone."

As she spoke, Pope started understanding that Kooks and Pogues were much more alike than he had thought. He felt her words in the darkest corners of his heart, where JJ's words echoed again and again, reminding him that he had to be tough.

"When I was younger," he recounted, feeling the need to share something in return. "I didn't like to fight. I still don't, as a matter of fact. And I got pushed around more often than not. JJ was the first one to stand up for me, and he taught me to stand up for myself."

She smiled softly. "He's a good friend."

"He's a brother," he said, knowing that she could hear the truth in his words. 

And brothers didn't feel jealous of one another. Pope regretted the bitter feeling that had crawled up his throat at the sight of Delilah's arms around JJ. He had no reason to feel that way. 

Distracting himself, his eye caught the large shower in the corner of the room. In stainless steel and lightly tinted glass, it matched the room's colour scheme.

"There hasn't been running water on the cut since the hurricane, right?" Delilah asked, noticing his glance. She got up, knowing the answer. "I'll find you some clothes. The towels are in the cupboard. Take as much time as you'd like."

He grinned, thankful. 

Without his daily showers, Pope couldn't find the time to think and untangle his worried mind. Standing under freezing water, he could cut out the world around him and forget his worries. It cleared his mind, allowing him to think without any distractions. 

And he needed that more than ever.

  A/N Finally, some alone time! Hope y'all like it ;)

Thanks for reading! 

-Aella