Page 78 of Fragile Facade

“You, uh, we had a deal.”

It takes me a second, but when I realize what he’s saying, my smile is entirely genuine. It’s not a smirk, a grin, or a charming mask across my lips. It’s happiness and shyness because Soren wants me to hold his hand.

“That girl really fucked you up, eh?”

“Fuck this. I’m leaving. This was a mistake.”

When he moves, I grab his fingers and pull him back down. “Just sit with me. My god.” We start back-to-back, our shoulders twisted so our fingers can wind together in the middle of the bed. Back-to-back feels safe, but slowly, my body turns, and so does his. We don’t look at each other, but we slide to the headboard to sit side by side. One hand on my smoothie and the other in his, sweating because I’m nervous, I ease my bandaged back against the smooth wood, trying not to lean too hard on any of the burns.

“You’re in my head, Sauder.”

He snorts like that’s an understatement. “But why?”

I take a sip and offer him the cup. He denies me and then takes it, so I say, “We’re just all twisted together when we shouldn’t be.”

“Why not?”

“You’reapparentlya narcissist and I’veapparentlygot ASPD. You think our mental situations are gonna be anything but destructive together? We can’t even manage friendship, let alone whatever the fuck this is.” I laugh because, even though it’s true, it doesn’t seem so daunting. “So, what is it?”

“Sex and curses.”

“Doesn’t sound half bad when you put it that way.”

He hands the cup back. Soren’s palm presses against mine, and then he lifts our hands, playing with my fingers while he watches them together. He makes sure all my bandages stay on, entranced by the way we look touching each other.

“Psych tells me that our kinds of diagnoses aren’t exact,” he says.

Yeah, she tells me that, too, but… why is he saying it? “And?”

“I don’t know.” He sighs, like he wants to justify that we’re allowed to feel new things for each other despite what our medical records say.

“You know what’s messed up? I’ve fucked and fought a lot of people, but you touch me in two ways I’ve never been touched before, and it’s all weird in my head because they’re opposite ways.” He stares at our hands while I watch his side profile. “At first, you touched me like you knew I could handle it. You’re probably the only person who’s ever given me all their strength and not doubted if I’d live through it. But you’re also the first person to touch me like this.” He links our fingers. “Like… it means something, but nothing malicious.”

“Wow.”

“Don’t fucking make fun of me.”

“I’m not.” I chuckle. “I thought that too when that kid touched my hand. But this is different. She was innocent, but you’re…”

“What?”

I want to saymine, but our bubble is too thin to risk breaking it yet. “Intentional.” I hold his hand harder. “You know, this is the first conversation we’ve ever had that hasn’t had a death threat in it.”

“Pretty sure I threatened to kill you if you ever sacrificed yourself for me again.”

He didn’t, but maybe he thought it. Chatting isn’t easy between us, and I don’t overly want to talk anymore, but I also don’t want him to leave. It’s the middle of the night, and I have no idea who he conned into making me a smoothie, but despite how tired I am, I’m content to spend the rest of the night sitting just like this.

“What kind of soup?”

“I don’t know. Just soup.”

I smile. “Thanks.”

“Fuck you.” He bends, resting his temple on my shoulder. We both stiffen, even though we want it, and it takes a second or two to remember to be comfortable with it. “Terrorize me, Killian, but not like that.”

I lean my head against his and close my eyes. “Okay.”

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