I'd Kill You First: when bad meets bad
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- Parts 63
"Are you really just going to leave now? Disappear without having closure? Hide?" He bit out with a resonating bitterness that had me clutching at my chest to stop the ache.
"Keenon," I whispered, staring through the windshield ahead of me, unable to look at him. I was afraid that I had broken him, and that I would be able to see that brokenness much like I had seen it in Matt's eyes when I left him all those years ago. Only this time, I was also feeling broken. Somehow, that made it so much worse.
"Don't," he growled, stalking over to my car and yanking me from the seat. "Don't you dare say my name like it means something to you! Don't you dare act like you're hurting! It's an act, it always has been! You always live for yourself, and when other people get hurt, you don't care!"
His hands held my upper arms in a vise grip, forcing me to stand before him and bask in the unbearable rays of his anger as I opened my mouth. "That's not true-"
"It is!" he bellowed, shaking me a bit. "I will say my peace this time, Soda, or so help me damnit, I'm going to kill you for what you've done!"
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There's this silence between us that stretches longer than it should, and it wraps around my chest like a weighted blanket. My throat tightens. I stare at him like I'm trying to memorise the face of someone who shouldn't exist. A dream made real. My lips part before I can stop myself. "Were you sent by my dad to take care of me?" The question hangs in the air, trembling like the last leaf in autumn. Aiden's gaze softens. His lips tug into the gentlest smile I've ever seen. It's the kind of smile that could mend broken wings. "No" he whispers. "I volunteered." The words hit harder than I expect. Like a punch wrapped in silk. I gasp, air leaves me in a rush I can't reclaim. But before I can fully process what he's just said, he takes a step closer. His fingers ghost over my cheek, brushing away a tear I didn't realise had fallen. And then-he kisses me painfully slow. His hand cups the back of my neck, anchoring me to a moment I never want to end. And just when I think it's over, he pulls away just enough to look at me. His thumb traces the damp trail of tears down my cheek. He doesn't say anything. He just leans in again, and kisses them away. One by one. My tears. My pain. My silence. All kissed away by a boy who didn't come to save me because someone sent him. He came because he chose to.
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