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They both stare at me, their presence so suffocating, yet so also intoxicating too. My heart feels like it’s about to burst, and I don’t know if it’s from fear, or something else entirely.
Though they don’t say anything else, their eyes remain fixed on mine, burning into my soul.
The looks on their faces are enough to make my knees weak.
And for the first time, I realise the power my voice has over them.
It terrifies me.
The faint sweetness lingers on my tongue as I bring my fingers to my lips, licking away the remnants of chocolate.
Earlier today, the twins came back with heaps of snacks, and I saved this chocolate bar, nibbling on it slowly, savouring every piece like it might be my last.
Now, the sticky residue clings to my fingertips.
With a quiet sigh, I make my way towards the small bathroom. The door creaks faintly as I step inside, the coolness of the floor seeping through my socks.
I walk towards the sink, noticing the way my reflection stares back at me in the mirror.
Pale.
Tired.
Worn.
Shadows cling to my eyes, evidence of many restless nights, and too many unanswered questions.
Looking away, I reach out to turn the tap on, brushing my fingers against the cold metal. I lean forward, ready to wash the chocolate away from my fingers and palm, when movement behind me catches my eye in the mirror.
My heart lurches at the unexpected face staring straight at me.
Mikhail.
He’s standing in the doorway of the bathroom, his broad shoulders filling the frame. His eyes are trained on me with a focus so intense, it makes my stomach twist. His presence is so sudden, so overwhelming and unexpected, that I freeze, my hand suspended mid-air.
For a moment, neither one of us moves, the tension thick enough to drown in.
Forcing myself to release a breath, I look away, my breath catching in my throat as I turn back to the sink. My fingers tremble as they hover towards the stream of water.
Then, without warning, he’s there.
His hand darts out, capturing my wrist in a grip that’s firm, but not painful. I gasp at the sudden touch, my body jerking in surprise, but Mikhail doesn’t let go. Instead, he steps closer to me, his chest pressed against my back, as he leans down. His fingers tighten around my wrist as he guides my hand away.
“Mikhail.” I whisper. “What are you doing?”
He doesn’t answer me.
Instead, he lowers his head down further, his breath warm against the side of my neck as he raises my hand higher, turning it slightly so that my chocolate-stained fingers are at level with his mouth.
My breath catches in my throat, my eyes becoming wide as I stare at him in the mirror.
His eyes—dark, intense—are locked on mine.
“How dirty.”
Mikhail murmurs, his voice low and edged with something that makes my knees feel weak.
His tongue flicks out, brushes against the tip of one finger, and I shudder.