His to Consume

I Care For You

Lena's POV

I was battling with myself in my mind as I was trying to find the right words to say without letting my hands go dry. Damien was just standing there at the end of the line, his dark gaze fixated on me. He had always been lenient towards me, but this was lenience of a different kind, one that was based on hope. And it broke my heart because I knew fully well that what he wanted from me, I was not capable of giving.

I choked the lump down my throat and drew in a shaky breath. "Damien..." I started, my voice shaking. "I care for you. A great deal."

He moved in, a gentle yet penetrating look on his face. "Lena, you don't have to justify anything," he said in a low voice. "It's just your feelings I want to know. That's all."

That made it excruciatingly harder.

"I would be lying if I said I'm ready to engage in a relationship," I finally admitted, my voice breaking in the process. His expression changed just a little, but that was enough for me to feel guilty about. I pressed on, not wanting to leave any stone unturned.

"A certain chapter of my life that involved Grant..." I took a breath in, looking for my heart rate to come down. "It shattered me, Damien. I can't even begin to explain how. It has been one long process of putting myself back, going through milestones, and there is hope that I am actually getting or am close to getting there. But I am not there yet."

His jaw clenched, however, he did not speak. He simply gestured for me to go on.

"I don't want to do that to you," I whispered. "I want you to know that I am not trying to use you to compensate for the void Grant has left in my life. You deserve better. And I know I cannot give you what is rightfully yours, at least, not now."

Damien let out a long uninterested sigh as he raked his hand through his hair. "So, what is it that you want to say?" he inquired, much to my surprise, even though his tone was composed; it still bore a lot of conviction.

"Look, I would... like this friendship to carry on," I said, quaking at the edges. "Perhaps one day, when my heart has mended enough, we will revisit this. But for now... I require time."

For a while, he did not speak. A taut silence descended over us. I could already tell he was conflicted. His brain grappled with the enormity of my earlier confession.

A moment later, he acquiesced with a bob of his head. "That's quite alright," he said softly. "I'm not going to rush you, Lena. I will let you take as long as you want."

This was the impression he intended to create, but the distress in his voice only served to heighten the ache in my heart.

"I'm so sorry," I whispered urgently, fighting the tears threatening to fall.

"Don't be," he said, trying to smirk, though the attempt looked painful. "You're being truthful. It's understandable."

He took a step backward, allowing me some distance. 'Lena, look after yourself,' he said at last, making it clear he wasn't going to change his mind.

And then he left.

I was rooted at the spot for quite some time, looking at the door long after he had exited. My body was heavy, and my heartfelt pain I did not understand. I was sure that the decision I had made was the right one – it still did not lessen the pain.

A few hours later, I was back in my tiny apartment and couldn't stop picturing Damien's face. The look of disappointment in his eyes, the clenched jaw, the quiet surrender in his shoulders all lingered.

I tried to keep my mind off him by tidying up the place and then attempting to read, but those didn't help. I found myself returning to thoughts of Damien.

I found myself thinking about what he might be doing right now, how he might be feeling. I wished he would go home, have some time to himself and think about things. But I knew him well enough. He was not one to take a back seat and watch things unfold.

An hour later, my phone buzzed, just as I had expected. It was a text from Carla, a mutual friend who was an employee of Wells Enterprises.

Carla: "Did you hear about Damien coming to this place? He walked into Grant's room and requested to see him. It was something else."

A sudden rush of panic creased my brow. I fixed my eyes on the screen and read the statement over and over again, attempting to see if I had misread it. But the statement remained the same.

I called Carla without delay. What do you mean Damien has gone to meet with Grant? I was unable to contain my voice, which was shaking from rage.

"Damien appeared out of nowhere," Carla said. "He was furious. Grant's assistant attempted to keep him out, but he walked straight into the office. They have spoken for a while there, I don't know about what. When Damien emerged, he appeared... I don't know. Resolute, I suppose."

A wave of nausea swept through me. I could only picture what Damien could have possibly said or done.

"When you say that, is it about me?" I asked, with some hesitation.

Carla paused before responding. "I cannot prove it, but... I mean, Damien cares for you a lot. So, it does not make sense if he did not."

I appreciated her assistance and disconnected the call. I still found it difficult to swallow that Grant was still being confronted by Damien.

The experience left me feeling a jumble of angry frustration and disquiet. Plus a third emotion that I couldn't articulate for myself at that time.

I began to walk around the room, trying to figure out the right course of action. Should I ring up Damien and give him a piece of my mind? Or just ignore it and have faith that he hadn't acted in a way that would get him into trouble?

In the end, I opted to send him a text message.

Me: "I heard you went to see Grant. Can we talk?"

It's been quite a while and the message has not been read. I find myself continually looking down at my phone in anticipation of a reply. But, there were none.

I couldn't simply remain here doing nothing. I took my keys and bolted out of the door, with my heart doing somersaults.

I drove quickly, as all my memories of Damien flooded my mind. Even his cheerful personality and his patience took me in. How he knew just the right words to say when I was feeling down was comforting. And now, this.

When I finally reached Wells Enterprises, it was already late. Quite a number of the employees had left for the day, but the lights in Grant's office were still on.

I stood in front of the door, ready to walk in, but hesitated because I did not know what I was going to say or even who to address.

But just as I reached the door, Damien stepped out.

His face was a mask of emotionless rage and his jaw was strained with tightness. His hands were locked in tight fists on either side of him, and he didn't initially notice me, but when he did, he froze.

"Ik how it is," He narrowed his eyes and said "Lena."