The silence between us was thick, a little awkward, as we both sat on opposite ends of the couch.
Radrien held his palm to his lips, staring somewhere else, while I hugged my knees, biting my own lips to hide the heat rushing through me.
It was hot. So damn hot.
We had kissed like absolute maniacs. Literally. For what felt like an hour, we went back and forth, him breaking the kiss, me reconnecting, me pulling back, him diving in again.
Our lips were sore, swollen, numb from the marathon, and I could barely move my mouth. My entire body was on fire, yet every nerve still tingled with the memory of his lips and his tongue dancing with mine. Even now, I could feel him - taste him - in the back of my mind.
My face was flushed, my heart pounding, a mix of embarrassment and a sharp, unfamiliar arousal I tried desperately to ignore and act cool.
That day passed with us acting normal, though both of us were quietly craving more. Eventually, we gave in, and for another hour, we kissed in bed before finally lying down to sleep. Radrien didn't let go. "Lenny." he murmured, still holding my face, our noses brushing, breaths mingling.
We sat close, my legs on either side of his narrow waist, bottoms touching, lips still aching from our marathon kiss.
I looked into his eyes, waiting for him to say something. He seemed to be searching for the right words but then shook his head slightly, changing what he was going to say. "Let me hold you like this while you sleep, okay?"
"You sound...weird," I whispered, though I didn't resist. Instead, I leaned closer, resting my head against his chest.
The steady beat of his heart beneath my ear made me feel safe, secure, and completely at ease. I didn't even notice when I drifted off to sleep.
Radrien hardly closed his eyes. He held me, watching the ceiling, patting my back gently, breathing evenly, as if waiting for something to happen.
Time passed, the clock ticking softly, but he didn't move, didn't let go. His eyes stayed open, unwavering, protective, and alert — waiting. And eventually, it did.
Low sniffles broke the quiet of the room. My body trembled uncontrollably, mind racing, lungs tightening.
Sweat drenched my skin, and blood rushed wildly in my veins. "No, no, stop, please, no, I can't- it feels weird, don't..."
My voice cracked, pain clouding my thoughts in a way that made my memories ache. "Don't, it hurts, let me go, you, you can't, you aren't him, you aren't my boyfriend, stop."
My nails dug sharply into Radrien's back, but he didn't recoil. He held me closer, trembling himself.
"Honey, it's okay. Lenny, Everything will be okay," he murmured, gently wiping the sweat from my skin and turning the AC colder, patting my back as if that could soothe the storm inside me.
But his words barely reached me.
My mind spiraled. "No! NO! Stop! Radrien! No! Where are you? It hurts! Stop it! Save me, please! It feels so wrong, NO! Stop already!"
I grabbed his wrist, nails clawing into him, yet he didn't flinch. Instead, his own pain mirrored mine — for me, not himself. "Lenny, I'm here. I'm here. It won't hurt anymore. It'll get better. You'll get better, it's fine. It'll be fine, I swear," He held me close to his chest, voice firm but gentle, until slowly, my trembling eased.
My frantic heartbeat began to settle, and I drifted into a calmer, sweeter sleep as if all the pain I'd carried for so long had begun to melt away.
Radrien stayed awake, breathing evenly, caressing me gently. When he finally let himself release, tears slipped freely down his face.
"I'm sorry, baby, I'm so sorry I was late that day but trust me, I'm here. I'm never leaving again, not even for a second. Forgive me." He repeated it like a mantra, over and over, as he hugged me tighter.
The morning sunlight hit my face as I slowly woke, finding myself pressed against Radrien's chest. He held me tightly, muttering softly in his sleep.
"Good morning, Hey, you really look like a zombie," I muttered, noticing his face — red-rimmed eyes, dark circles, exhaustion.
Didn't he sleep again, just like yesterday?
What has he been doing if he doesn't sleep?
"I'm fine, How was your sleep?" he asked, rubbing his eyes, then smiling at me.
"Good. Though I don't remember any dreams, but it was nice. Your scent, it makes me feel safer," I muttered, my face heating up at how easily the words slipped out.
He smiled softly. "That's good. Hold me tight every night when you sleep, okay?"
"Really? But if I do, I don't think you can sleep." I said, moving off him. Yet I noticed he hadn't shifted at all, still holding me in the exact same position.
What the hell?
Why wouldn't he let me go and sleep comfortably?
"I don't need to sleep. I just need to have you in my arms," he said, voice gentle, and my mind immediately started racing.
"Oh my, you're embarrassing," I muttered, looking away. Then my eyes caught his wrists — yesterday it was just the right one, but now both were covered with faint nail marks. Seriousness bled through his calm exterior.
"The hell do you do in your sleep?" I asked, worry prickling at my chest as I held his hands. "I was playing knight in shining armor in my dreams, saving my little beautiful prince," he said softly, eyes fixed on mine.
"You're so childish, come on, I'll treat it for you," I said, reaching for the first aid kit. But he pressed his face into my neck, holding me back. "It's fine, I'm fine. Don't worry. Go freshen up. I'll cook for us," he murmured, voice low.
"But, doesn't it hurt?" I asked, gently touching his wounds, my own heart twisting.
"It doesn't, it's not even near the real pain I fear," he whispered, offering a small, sad smile.
"You can treat it later then," I said, and he nodded. "Okay, wait for me. I'll be fast," I muttered, heading to the bathroom, feeling weird. Why was he acting so off? What real pain was he hiding? And why did something strange twist in my chest making my thoughts fuzzy? I stared at my reflection in the mirror.
My face looked impossibly fresh and clean, almost as if I'd woken up looking like a drama's main character. Maybe I was just overthinking.
I wanted to treat Radrien's wrists quickly, but he insisted I eat first, then take medicine. Now, after both, I sat down beside him to gently tend to the marks.
We were too close — our legs brushing, his warm breath occasionally drifting over me. He didn't move, just watched me with those unreadable eyes.
Slowly, he rested his chin on my head, then pressed a soft, lingering kiss there.
"Done," I said, closing the first aid box.
"Now quit role-playing in dreams, idiot."
"I can't," he murmured, his voice gentle but firm. "I need to make sure my prince is safe, that he knows he isn't alone."
"Oh my, you're damn cheesy. What dramas have you been watching lately?" I asked, frowning, trying to mask the warmth creeping into my chest. He just smiled, that impossible, knowing smile, before leaning closer. His lips met mine softly, then deepened into a long, deliberate kiss.
I didn't resist. Not at all. I kissed him back immediately, letting myself get lost in the heat of the moment, in the hour-long rhythm of lips meeting, pulling away, and finding each other again. The world outside disappeared; only the closeness, the warmth, the lingering taste of him mattered.