Page 103 of Viparious

His face falls as though he wasn’t aware of everything he’s said, and he holds me tighter, refusing to deny death. His lips go to my temple, and he whispers to himself, “No one has ever said that before.”

It just makes me cry harder. He’s so brutal and violent. Now I finally understand why. My shoulders ache, my wrists pulling from how hard I’m wrapped around him, but he breathes slightly easier as I hide in his neck.

Vlad runs his fingers through my hair, the tips of his fingers making circles on my scalp between straightening the strands. He doesn’t say anything, he allows me to sob as he gently picks up different sections and hums to himself while gently swaying side to side. His brutality is fucking angelic in comparison to what they did to him. He’s a saint for not burning the world to ash and I know deep in my fucking bones he’s the best man to exist.

My sobs slow but my tears don’t stop. I’m at risk of drowning us both. They fall for the man he could have been, the father who lost his child when he was still one himself, the father who is mourning and fearful, so he’s locked himself away from his other child, and the little boy who was forced to cover himself in blood, so he never had to see his own.

It’s that little boy I try to speak to, the one who was so in love with his daughter that not having her turned him into a monster.

“You were a child, none of it was your fault.”

A lump grows in his throat, forcing his Adam’s apple to protrude further as he swallows around it. I can see the unease under his skin, his jaw tensing, shoulders flexing as he brings them up to get it to dissipate. Softening my voice further, I hold his face with both hands and slowly turn him to face me as I sit up.

“You did everything you could, Vlad, more than what should have been put on you.”

He’s going to disagree with me. It’s there in his eyes, lurking with the guilt and pain, as his arms fall limp. I stop it leaving as my eyes close with the comparison.

“You were a few years older than Viktor.”

It’s barely audible and I open them again to see his brows come together. It’s sinking in that he was a child. I’ve seen the way he protects Viktor’s childhood and I use it now to force Vlad to allow some of his guilt to leave.

“Would you expect Viktor to process something of this magnitude? I’m an adult, and I can tell you right now, I wouldn’t be able to. I can’t begin to imagine what you feel. I’m lucky. I know Verena is safe, even when I woke up and she wasn’t there, I knew because you left your cufflink on the floor right in front of my bed and I knew you had her, so she was safe. Before I even checked her crib, I knew, because that is what you are. Safety and protection for the people you care about. You wouldn’t hurt any of them, and I know you love your daughters.”

Tears fill his eyes. They line up on his lashes as he smiles. It’s so soft and heartbreaking as he remains unblinking, guarding his emotions because they’ve been twisted into a weapon against him. I don’t move as I let him see that it’s safe and give him a promise I’ll never take back for as long as I live.

“You can always talk about her to me, whenever you want.”

The smile gets wider, and he sniffs as his lashes are unable to bear the weight of his grief. They slip over the edge onto my fingers, settling through the cracks between them.

More are knocked loose as he nods once and slowly moves forward to press his lips to my forehead. They stamp through my skin with care and gratitude, unmoving as he cups the back of my head, pulling me closer. I can’t hate him for loving his daughter. I can’t hate him for leaving me to go to her when, if I knew, I would have sent him with every weapon possible to right the wrong of her being taken from him. I can’t hate him at all, and I wrap my arms around his neck to stop myself from telling him that.

He mistakes the reason as my wet cheek touches his that’s also soaked. Smoothing his hand over the back of my head, he gently pulls me away from his lips and cups my cheeks. Swiping my tears away with his thumbs, he kisses my forehead with nothing but emotion.

“Don’t cry, meely moy.”

I let out a watery laugh and hold his wrists. “Because of the snot?”

His smile is slow as he lets out a breath of relief. “Exactly, I like this shirt.”His lips move across my face as he begs, “Come back to me.”

I don’t even have to think about my response. It’s automatic, without any weakness in my voice.

“I’m here.”

He shakes his head as he loses some of his usual strength and fills my vision. The vulnerability seeps through his pores as he stares between each of my eyes and pleads, “No, stay. Come back. Because if you’re here, I’ll be able to check the windows and you always kick the sheets off when you’re asleep and I have to pull them up or you’ll get cold. So, stay. I’ll keep laying on the floor and you won’t ever see me but just fucking stay. Because without you, both of you, here, I can’t breathe. It’s worse than the cake.”

He blows out a breath and his chest rapidly rises and falls as his skin turns clammy.

I can’t ask what cake because he wraps his arms around me so tightly I’m sure he’s reducing my lung capacity. I’m crushed to his chest, his heart beating wildly into me, as he begins tapping against my ribs and whispering to himself, “Not blue.”

The whispering forms one long line of two repeated words and I ignore the fact that I’m definitely going to have Vlad’s arms denting my back for the rest of my life as I hug him back. My lips touch his wet skin, tasting a mix of our tears and he slowly relaxes. It’s not enough to allow air into my lungs fully but he allows some of the tension to leave his body.

I keep doing it as he allows the bruising grip to lessen in increments. Stroking up my back, he goes back to my scalp and restarts folding the strands. I don’t stop him as I close my eyes and sink against his chest. His mind must be an exhausting place. All the pain and secrets that he carries are there continuously. I need to be cut off from civilization for the next thirty years after half a night of some of his pain. The soft hum of bayu bayushki starts vibrating through his chest. The lullaby that was his daughter’s favorite and he now does the same for Verena. I wonder if they were alike, or if it hurts him to hold her, to be close to her.

Does it hurt him to be close to me? She would be my age. Mid-twenties with a father who is in his thirties is wrong, so fucking wrong and unfathomable. My hair is split down the middle, and I look down as something touches my neck. There’s a loose four-part braid gently laid on my shoulder and Vlad threads his fingers through the top of the strands to undo it. He doesn’t look at me until I ask, “Where did you learn to do that?”

I must be seeing things because the tops of his cheeks turn ruddy. He quickly undoes the loose braid as he clears his throat.

“I found out she was going to be born and went to the hospital. Len stopped me going inside because he was pissed. There was a little girl, around three or four, sat in the waiting room opposite me. She kept crying for her mama because she wanted braids in her hair, so she looked pretty when she met her new brother.” I nod and he uses the back of his knuckles to dry my cheeks. “There was another girl with her, a few years older, and she sat her on the floor between her knees and started braiding her hair so she wouldn’t cry anymore. We were a house of boys, I didn’t know how to do that shit, and Anika wasn’t allowed to look at Vanya. So, I practiced on the mop in case she wanted them when she was older.”

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