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EVELYN
I haven’t beenable to move away from the spot on my bed since Cillian left, and when he didn’t return back home last night, I realized how fucked up it was craving someone I’ve just met like this. I needed his soft smile, the sadness in his eyes, the way he held me and the way he needed me, and the moment all those thoughts came through my mind, I fucking hated myself because it felt as if I was using him to erase my own thoughts.
We were both fucked up in our own ways, maybe him more than me, but I needed him to forget the night that I could never erase from my mind.
What I hated the most was the fact that I cared about him. God, I cared about a man who was probably a murderer, a monster in its own name, and I couldn’t fight it. The way he clung to me, the way he called out my name when we hid inside his room, only the two of us, it all called to the dark parts of my soul I rarely let out to play. My mom always told me I often went for the broken ones because I recognized in them what I always carried deep inside my heart.
And Cillian—he was a man on the brink of falling apart, and I wanted to bring him back to life. I did it as well. I saw light in those whiskey eyes as he fell apart for me, as we both reached the high we craved.
And now he wasn’t here.
He'd left me all alone, doing God knows what, and I would be lying if I said that I didn’t hate it more than I should. I should’ve been happy, figuring out a way to get out of here, but I didn’t want to leave. I wanted to belong to him, to Christian who fucking pissed me off with his little display yesterday.
I smiled when I remembered the jealousy shining through his eyes, and I had a feeling that Cillian had no idea what his friend felt for him. I also had a feeling that it wasn’t one sided, and while it should’ve scared me, it made me feel alive, being there with the two of them. I wanted Cillian to be happy, to be sated, to get what he so desperately needed, and me? Well, I wanted them both in my bed, in my life, no matter how fucked up it all sounded.
It was fast, this attraction I harbored, but I didn’t want to fight it. I just wanted them both back so that I could tell them I wasn’t going anywhere even if they wanted me gone.
But Cillian wasn’t here and neither was Christian, and I hated the needy parts of me that wanted to wrap around both of them, trapping them in this room from where I never wanted to leave.
I pulled myself up from the bed, still wearing Cillian’s shirt, and looked at the gray skies above Velvet City. The sunshine that enveloped us just yesterday morning had quickly disappeared, replaced by heavy rain that kept me awake half of the night and well into the morning, leaving behind angry, dark clouds that looked like they could erupt any moment now.
My stomach grumbled, reminding me that I hadn't eaten anything since yesterday afternoon, only sneaking inside the kitchen when I heard Cillian leaving in the middle of the day. I'd made myself a quick sandwich that I ate inside this room I'd confined myself to. I didn’t explore the apartment, didn’t want to do anything but lay down and stare at the sky.
I was supposed to be at work hours ago, but I couldn’t bring myself to care about the job that wasn’t bringing me joy anymore, and while it might have been childish of me, I just wanted to disappear for a while. Since the accident that almost killed me back in Croyford Bay, I hadn't stopped, constantly trying to run away from it, trying to find my purpose, my place, somewhere to belong. It wasn’t until Cillian swept me up and brought me here that I finally found it.
Which only angered me more when I exited the room, heading toward the kitchen, because the man was nowhere to be seen. The apartment was quiet, too quiet, and if it wasn’t for the soft buzzing of the kitchen appliances, I would think that I'd entered into a crypt. And much like the room where I was sleeping, the rest of the apartment was bare of anything that could show who Cillian truly was. Even his room, now that I really thought about it, lacked any personal touches that could show us who he truly was.
The man was a ghost, just moving through life, never once holding onto anything that could reveal his true nature. But he'd shown me who he was when he ran his hands over my body, worshiping me well until the sun started rising up. He'd shown me what he needed when he'd begged me to fuck him harder, faster, more and more and more. And maybe for other people sex wasn’t anything more than a transaction between two consenting adults, but for me it was so much more.
The one night stands I'd allowed myself to have were nothing compared to the instant connection I felt with him. And when he whispered the stories of his life, the ones he wanted to share, the ones he wasn’t afraid of, I wanted to know everything about him. I wanted to hide myself in the dark cloak of desire we'd thrown over ourselves, ignoring the outside world, until he'd told me everything I needed to know.
The chill of the refrigerator as I opened it was a welcome reprieve from my own thoughts. As I pulled out the cream cheese from the top shelf and closed the door, turning toward the bread that still sat on the counter where Christian had left it, I felt a pang of worry through my system.
Maybe he didn’t come back home because something happened? Maybe he was dead? Maybe both of them were?
I had no way to contact them, no phone, no computer, and I didn’t want to snoop through Cillian’s room to see if there was anything I could use to contact them. My first thought should’ve been to call my hotel to tell them I was okay, but I didn’t care much about my old life or the things I did before I'd met Kill.
I didn’t care about anything, and as I spread the cream cheese over three slices of bread, my hands shook from the fear that was slowly taking hold of my system.
The food tasted like ashes as I fought to swallow it down over the nerves wreaking havoc on my body, but I managed, only just, because I knew I needed something in my system if I wanted to keep going. I was about to take a bite from the last slice of bread, when the familiar sound of the elevator doors opening spurred me back to life. I dropped it to the plate, and rushed toward the foyer where Cillian had found me two days ago, only to screech to a stop when I saw Christian propping up a very drunk Cillian.
“What the fuck happened?” I asked, rushing toward them and taking Cillian’s second arm around my shoulders, helping Christian support him.
“He got himself drunk, that’s what happened.”
“Uh.” I glanced at Cillian who was completely out of it, barely walking. I knew what drunk looked like, and this wasn’t it. He could barely stand up, his eyes closed while he mumbled incoherent words as we walked slowly toward his bedroom, hauling his heavy ass through the apartment. “Chris,” I mumbled, trying not to anger him. “This is not just alcohol.”
“I know,” he grunted, pushing the door open with his other hand. “I know it isn’t, but,” he took a deep breath, closing his eyes as we stopped at the very entrance of Cillian’s room, “he isn’t okay, Evelyn,” he stated matter-of-factly, but I could hear the strain in his voice. He hated seeing Cillian like this as much as I did, and I had no idea how to help.
I had no idea what to do to take away the pain he was living with. And if it was so hard for me to see a man I'd just met, the man I cared for, like this, I couldn’t even imagine what it was like for Christian who obviously harbored some heavy feelings for him.
“You love him,” I blurted out, more like a statement than a question. It was obvious in the way he carefully carried Cillian with me toward the bed, depositing him gently on his side. Christian’s entire body tightened, every muscle going haywire as soon as the words left my lips, but he didn’t deny it.
The heavy exhale that shuddered his entire body was answer enough to know that he cared about Cillian more than he let on. My lungs worked hard to take in the air they desperately needed, and instead of running away and leaving them alone, I knew that Christian couldn’t do this all on his own.
I knew what I saw in Cillian’s eyes when he looked at me and when he looked at his friend, and instead of allowing insecurities to rear their ugly head, I stayed, placing my hand on Christian’s back, trying to soothe him as best as I could.
“We, uh,” he stammered, slowly turning around to look at me. “We got into a fight last night.” He swallowed thickly, looking down at me. “Cillian went through a lot, Ev. More than we could ever imagine, and he so rarely talks about it, but he’s constantly trying to drown it all out with other things. Alcohol, drugs,” he murmured, his voice breaking. “I can’t stand it anymore. I can’t stand on the side and let him destroy himself. He almost died once from using.” A shudder wracked through his body, and without another word, he sat down on the bed, right next to the snoring Cillian, putting his hands on his face. “I can’t fucking stand it.”
