Page 114 of Goldsin

“What do you want?” Julian heaves, his chest rising and falling as his body remains unmoving in the center of the room. “Leave. Now.” His eyes narrow the longer I take to follow his order.

I take a step forward, closing the door behind me as I sway on my legs. Bracing myself on the doorknob, I giggle before slapping a hand over my mouth and glancing back at him.

“I need to use the bathroom.” I clear my throat, straightening up.

“You’re drunk,” he says, massaging his chest.

I cross my arms. “No.”

He’s gulping in air now.

“Julian?”

“The bathroom”—the muscles of his arm strain as he tightens his hand over his chest—“is at the end of the corridor.”

When I don’t move he spins to face me, and that’s when Isee the bleeding cut on his right cheekbone.Did he get into a fight?It wasn’t at the Den—his fight is next week. I glance down at the hand clutching his chest, but I don’t see any sign of torn or bruised skin.

Julian always fights back ... so why does it look like this fight was one-sided?

The muscles in his neck strain with the way his jaw is clenched tightly. He looks like a ticking time bomb about to explode, and when his turbulent blue eyes notice my resolve not to leave, he shouts, “Leave!”

But his eyes, they plead for help.

Stay.

The silent word is deafening in the way his eyes have softened, contrasting with the sharpness of his expression. The only part of his body he can’t tame; a window into the turmoil inside of him. I can’t ignore it. After years behind a solid wall, there’s finally a crack.

Maybe I’m too drunk—or just idiotic—but I want in. I want him to share his pain with mine. Mix them together until they become one infernal mess.

He staggers back, hitting the bed and falling onto it. The hand over his chest is now pulling at his shirt, a sob breaking through his gasps.

“Julian?” I’m at his side in an instant. “Julian!”

He doesn’t look up. He doesn’t move.

He seems elsewhere as his body trembles.

Instinctively, I straddle his hips and cup his face before tilting it towards me. The position helps me break the spell he’s under.

“What happened?”

Sadness clouds his features. Tears shimmer in his eyes before falling to soak my skin.

He doesn’t answer me.

He doesn’t try.

He doesn’t even see me.

So I cover his eyes with my hands. He doesn’t flinch away from my touch; instead he leans closer. He feels warm, his body strong under my legs. I try to refrain from touching every inch of him, but I can’t control my mind from wondering how he feels.

“There’s only me,” I whisper, hoping to repel whatever thought is haunting him. “There’s only me.” I repeat it until his breathing calms and the silent sobs fade away.

I feel his body slowly uncoil with each uttered syllable, calming under the steadiness of my voice as it copies my tempo.

“You,” he finally says in a brittle voice. “There’s only you.”

I uncover his eyes, feeling him blink against the sudden light. “Only me.”

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