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An unnatural shine covers his eyes and it’s so similar to when he becomes panicked after I touch him in a semi-public space. “It was…an accident.”
“It doesn’t look like an accident.”
“I just dropped it. It’s nothing.”
He pulls away from me and grabs the palette then carefully places it on a few tissues on his sketching table.
For a few seconds, he remains there, hand gripping the edge of the table and his back crowding with tension as if he’s fighting his demons and shoving them back to where no one can see them.
When he turns around, he seems more like himself, and this time, he looks at me, likereallylooks at me, and instantly, his lips purse with disapproval. “Were you fighting again?”
I make an affirmative sound, not bothering to use my state as an excuse for him to touch me.
There’s something wrong with him, and the more he hides it, the clearer I see it. But if I ask him about it outright, he’ll just deflect and retreat behind his high walls. Or worse, he’ll revert back to his old habits and run away.
But I can’t take this anymore. I can’t watch him break in silence and do nothing.
Bran glides wet wipes over his hands, cleaning away the black paint, then walks to me, clutches me by the jaw, and rotates my head from left to right. “You seriously need to stop fighting. One day, you’ll really get hurt. You’re not immortal.”
He presses his finger against a bruise on my jaw and I wince.
“Does it hurt?” he asks with a note of concern that he obviously doesn’t have for himself.
“If I say yes, will you kiss it better?”
“I give up.” He releases me with a sigh. “I’ll go get the first aid kit.”
“I’ll do it myself. I need a bath anyway.” I walk to the entrance and glance back.
Bran watches me with a wretched expression, his body is angled my way like every time we’re in public, and then he opens his mouth, but just like all those times, he closes it again.
“You have something to tell me, baby?”
I expect something. Anything, but he shakes his head. “I will…clean up and fix dinner.”
I say nothing as I storm out and into the bathroom. I should be used to his methods at this point, but I don’t like it.
The whole fucking thing is making my skin crawl.
I sit in the Jacuzzi for what seems like forever, but it must be like half an hour. The bubbles echo around me, but there’s nothing relaxing about them, so I turn them off to think in silence.
My mind fills with thoughts about the reason behind Bran’s state from earlier, but no matter how much I think about it, I come up empty.
With a sigh, I lean back and grab my phone from the side of the tub and check my texts, mostly from the group chat with the guys.
Killian
Where are you, Niko?
Jeremy
He’s busy. Let him be.
Gareth
Niko busy? And you’re not there to keep him in check?
Jeremy
