He smirked, a playful glint in his eyes. "I know. You were moaning like a dying star—bright, desperate, folding in on yourself before exploding."
I gasped, then burst into laughter.
As the silence stretches between us, I find myself tracing the tattoos again, letting my fingers dance across the inked lines, the designs that tell a story I can only begin to understand. His hand moves to mine, guiding me gently, and I can feel the weight of his gaze on me, not demanding, but full of something, something I can't quite name.
"Tell me about them," I whisper, my voice soft, reverent. I can't help but be drawn to the intricate designs that weave across his skin like a map—like a secret language.
He takes a deep breath, his eyes distant for a moment. "Each constellation represents a memory," he begins. "The Orion's Belthere," he points to a trio of stars inked near his collarbone, "was my mom's favorite. I used to tell her stories about it when I was a kid."
His fingers move to a series of numbers and symbols near his ribs. "These are coordinates to the cabin where I used to stargaze. It's where I first fell in love with the night sky."
I listen, captivated, as he shares the stories behind each mark. "The equations," he continues, "are from my thesis on astrophysics. They remind me of the passion I have for understanding the universe."
He pauses, his voice tinged with emotion. "When my mom was diagnosed with Alzheimer's, I started getting these tattoos. It was my way of preserving memories, of holding onto the moments that mattered."
"and this is a solitary star, representing Sirius—the brightest star in the night sky." he adds, "It serves as a beacon, representing the father I never knew. Just as Sirius shines brightly from afar, my father's influence is felt even in absence, guiding me through life's journey."
I squeeze his hand, feeling the depth of his love and the pain of his loss etched into his skin. "They're beautiful," I say, my voice barely above a whisper.
He smiles, a mixture of sadness and gratitude in his eyes. "They're my story," he replies. "A map of who I am, where I've been, and the people I've loved."
I press a kiss to the starry tattoo on his chest, my lips lingering for a moment, grounding myself in the present, inthismoment. There's a comfort here that feels almost foreign but so right, sonatural. The flickering light from the stars above us, the faint hum of the night settling in the air—it's as if the universe itself has conspired to make this night perfect.
And for a moment, the world outside disappears. There's only us—two souls, intertwined under the stars. The night feels... magical. Like time itself has paused, and the world outside has faded into the background. The only thing that exists is the quiet rhythm of our breathing, the soft brush of my fingers against his skin, and the weight of his words as he shares pieces of himself with me.
But somewhere in the back of my mind, a whisper tries to intrude. It's not a voice from the past, but the shadows of it—the echoes of who I was before this. Beforehim.
I shake my head slightly, brushing away the thought. No. This moment,thisnight, is mine. I won't let the whispers of the past ruin it.
Still, as the night wraps around us, a feeling creeps in. A familiar insecurity that I can't shake off. What if this is just another fleeting moment? What if it's not real, not lasting? What if he—like everyone else—leaves when things get too complicated, too messy? or even when they are not messy?
I squeeze my eyes shut for a brief second, trying to push the thought aside.Why am I thinking this?I hate myself for it. For doubting him. For doubtingme.
Is this what I've become? Someone who expects the worst, just because it's easier than hoping for something that might not last?
I don't want to feel this way. I want to behere—with him—without all the baggage of the past hanging over me. But the insecurities are gnawing at me, turning my stomach in a way I can't ignore. Will Liam, like Aaron, eventually grow tired of me? Will he, too, leave to make sure I was the one?
I shake my head again, refusing to let the doubt take over, but it lingers. It's the fear of being left behind. Of being just another person who couldn't measure up, couldn't hold his attention.
I know because I have to go back to my studio and I'll have to see Aaron. The thought curls in my stomach like cold wire.
Liam's hand rests on my shoulder, his thumb gently brushing the skin there as if he senses the shift in me, the quiet war waging within. He doesn't ask, doesn't push. He just holds me, grounding me once again in the present.
"Rest now," he murmured, "The world can wait."
The words settle in my chest, warm and soothing, but my mind is still racing. How can I believe him when I can't even believe in myself anymore? When I can't shake the feeling that no matter how wonderful this night has been, it won't be enough to stop him from walking away eventually?
I rest my head against his chest again, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath my ear. A heartbeat that's steady, warm, real. "Thank you," I whisper,
Liam's fingers threaded gently through my hair, his touch a soothing rhythm that matched the cadence of my breath. His voice, low and steady, enveloped me like a warm blanket.
"I've got you," he murmured, his lips brushing against my temple. "Right here, right now, you're safe."
I felt the weight of my worries begin to lift, replaced by the comforting presence of the man holding me. His arms tightened slightly around me, grounding me in the moment.
"Whatever demons you're facing," he continued, his voice a gentle anchor, "we'll confront them together. But not tonight. Tonight, let them rest."
I nodded, the tension in my shoulders easing. In his embrace, the chaos of the world faded, leaving only the steady beat of his heart against mine.
