Page 108 of My Lovely Tragedy
“I like the thought of leaving you with a part of me—forever. A piece of me that stares back at you every day. A direct link to us and the moments we have shared. Scars you cannot bury in your darkness.
“I then could talk of how I love being the one to give you something you need—something you cannot give yourself. And seeing the evidence of that. I only wish I had my own scars to take with me.”
I expect the truth to evaporate between us. I’d just given him what he wanted—but he sits with it. Keeping it between us, thick and opaque. Nearly choking.
“Would you let me?” he whispers, so softly I barely understand him. It takes me a moment to catch onto what he means, and when the reality sinks in, I shift uneasily, sending water sloshing up.
He holds me present as his hand on my cheek burns a hole straight through me, to my decaying core. Which smolders with every essence ofhim.
Water suffuses us, too warm and clarifying as his eyes never leave mine. Droplets burn as they splatter, and the urge to blink them away is strong, but Brooklyn’s unwavering touch is stronger.
He truly sees me,inside,through flesh and bone and blood, to the very part of me left unseen and unexposed for the entirety of my life—mostly because it has remained hollow—until him.
And now, he knows.
I am filled with him.
“Tobias…” I press into his hand, finally letting my eyes close. I’m raw and unveiled, at his mercy, as he so willingly puts himself at mine.
Break me, darling. Take my pieces. Solder them to yours and obliterate me.
My tears fall into the water, disappearing instantly in the rush. I breathe it in, feel it filling my throat, my nostrils.
It doesn’t matter. Because Brooklyn’s holdingme.And I can fall apart for a moment. I can mourn him and drown in my regrets—which are painfully profuse.
I can reminisce. Immerse myself in joy and gratitude. Send silent prayers outward, thanking the universe for the moments that brought me to that day in the city. The despondency that urged me to wander after speaking with Charlie. To observe and take in life all around.
Every moment of agony and confusion. Refusal and denial. Acceptance and loneliness. They all brought me to mycorvus.And he fell right into my arms, melted wax bathing us and molding us together.
And together, we have remained.
“Knowing you has been the greatest privilege of my life,” I rasp, words coming out distorted through the water.
There’s a hesitation. Ifeelit more than anything, but it’s strong. Nearly overwhelming.
“Tobias…”
“My name is Tobias Lane Rike, and I am forty-two years old. I’m a published author of more than thirty books over a twelve-year long career. My pen name is T.L. Rike, and you could probably find me in any bookstore in the city. I write anything from psychological thrillers to queer romance and everything in between. Between stories, I compose music purely for my own consumption?—”
“Stop.” His voice shatters my monotonous drawl. I start and pull back. His hand slips between us, smacking against my shin.
“I—”
“Stop fucking talking, Tobias. I don’t like what you’re saying, and I don’t want to hear it.”
“Darling—”
“Shut the fuck up. Seriously.” He withdraws, and the immediate rush of cold makes me shiver. He pushes to his feet, towering above me. I tilt my head back, blinking through the stream to stare up at him, larger than life and so, so lovely, even with his angry grimace. Perhapsbecause.
“I knew you were being weird, but now it’s way too obvious, so juststop.” I expect him to turn his back on me just then, but he doesn’t. He steels his resolve and stands there with his chained arms hanging at his side, beautifully nude and unashamed.
And that… is enough to do me in.
So perfect.
I don’t deserve you.
“As you wish, my love.” His shoulders droop at my concession, and all of the tension melts out of him in an instant.
