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When he pulls back, he doesn't really move away. His arms go around me, and he holds me close. I remain still, then I stop holding back. And I breathe into him.

It’s going to be okay.

104

Mireya

Play - I Found by Amber Run

Forever scarred

I stay in the doorway of the living room without really going in. He gave me pajamas after my shower. He soaped me up, touched the lines I'd drawn on myself without saying a word. Brushed my hair with delicate fingers and kissed me again until my dark thoughts disappeared in between his lips. Then he let me get ready and disappeared into the kitchen to cook something.

That’s where I found him. The place is bathed in a soft and warm light. He's there, standing in front of the microwave. Bare chest, marked with traces I left behind when I lost control under his hands. Tattoos of flames curled softly around his waist climbing higher before disappearing into shadow. Scars, healed wounds and muscles.

His hair is still damp, a stubborn dark strand falling carelessly on his forehead. Water is still clinging to his large shoulders and I realize he also has black feathers inked there.

The beep sounds as he opens the door, and I see hot dogs. I almost laugh, because I know these were supposed to be for him whenever he stayed in this house.

He doesn’t cook much, even when we eat together. He always finds something somewhere to make sure I’m not hungry but is incapable of doing it himself.

Maybe no one cooked for him to learn…

He doesn't turn around right away. He puts both of them down, and only then does he look up.

Our eyes meet and a faint smile lifts his mouth.

He reaches for his shirt as he pulls it over his head, before turning back to me.

Then, his hand comes to the front of my neck, pulling me closer, thumb resting lightly beneath my jaw.

He looks at me for a moment, then whispers almost to himself, “Mireya, you make it very difficult to be a decent man when you look at me like that.”

I blink, and his smile returns.

“You’re not sore, are you?” He asks.

I laugh and stare back at him. “I am actually.”

A slow satisfied look crosses his face. “Good.” He then leans down his fingers giving my neck one slow possessive squeeze as he presses a gentle kiss to my forehead.

“Come on,” he adds, grabbing the two hotdogs I completely forgot about. “Let's go out a bit.”

I didn't ask where, I just grabbed my jacket and followed him.

It's cold outside, but beautiful too. The ocean, the cliffs, the moon…everything feels soft.

Damien walks ahead of me without saying a word, carrying both hotdogs in his hands, and I follow him without needing to think about where we’re going.

The edge of the cliff comes into view, and he settles at the drop-off, tapping the space beside him, silently asking me to join him. And I do.

I pull my legs up to my chest and take a bite while he leans back on his arms, leaving his own next to him.

He doesn’t even taste it, he just stays there, silent for a moment.

Only the sound of the wind, the ocean, and that strange feeling of being invisible in something far too vast to explain.

“Why are you doing this?” His voice breaks the silence.