Touched by Smoke

Chapter 9

Elara

I lift my gaze to him and look at him gently. I touch his cheek with the back of my hand, right where the scar cuts through his skin. He doesn't flinch. One more step.

—Because I didn’t smell it before I felt the pain. And because I didn’t care, Adam. Maybe your body smelled like a lost war, but your soul... your soul smelled like a fight. And I couldn’t walk away from that.

I feel him swallow hard, and for the first time, he seems to have no response. He stays silent, resting his forehead lightly against my shoulder.

—I’m not ready for what you’re trying to do to me, Elara, he murmurs. But I don’t want to stop you either... I don’t want to be just a breathing ghost anymore.

I smile, without moving away from him.

—Then let’s come back to life. Together. Even if it’s in small steps. Even if it hurts.

—You’ll have to be patient with me. With my demons who want to destroy you. With the endless darkness, he says, putting distance between us.

He walks past me into the kitchen. He bends down beneath the sink and pulls out a bottle of liquor. Before he can pour himself a drink, I take the bottle and pour its contents down the drain, spilling what he believes is his only help.

—What the hell do you think you’re doing? he yells at me, and I swallow hard.

—If you’ve got enough strength to yell at me, then you don’t need this poison.

He looks at me with wide eyes, as if he can’t comprehend what I’ve just done. As if I’ve taken the last fragment of control away from him. His shoulders tremble slightly, and I can’t tell if it’s from rage or fear.

—It was my only escape. The only one that didn’t judge me, Elara!

I take a step toward him, but don’t touch him. I give him space.

—It never saved you. It only buried you deeper. I’m not here to judge you, Adam. I’m here to pull you up. If you still want me here.

He runs a hand down his face and exhales deeply. Then he sinks to the floor, his back against the cabinet, looking exhausted by his own life.

—I don’t know if I can. If I deserve it.

I sit down next to him, our knees barely touching.

—Then let me believe in you, until you can do it too.

He doesn’t reply. But for the first time, he doesn’t push me away. And his silence, this time, isn’t a wall—it’s a half-open door.

He looks at me closely, as if trying to understand me. Then his fingers trace the contours of my face like a blind man trying to see. I don’t say anything. I let him be, even though I don’t know what he’s going to do.

—My demons want to smear you with their filth. They’re whispering in my ear right now to pour all my darkness onto you, he says softly, then traces the outline of my lips.

I don’t dare move, afraid he’ll close himself off again.

—You know what they tell me about you? he asks, but doesn’t let me answer. They tell me how pure you are. They tell me that one day you’ll leave too, and that will be my end.

His fingers move down to the line of my pulse, which instantly quickens. I have to stay clearheaded.

—But I won’t leave, I say, trying to keep my voice steady even though my heartbeat betrays my inner chaos. Not even your demons scare me, Adam.

I feel his breath on my cheek. He smells of something old, familiar, and painful. It’s like he’s woken from a long, dark sleep and, for the first time, is truly seeing.

—If you stay... then one day you’ll have to meet them. All of them. Every single one. I won’t be able to hide them from you, Elara.

—Then I’ll look them in the eye. And I’ll tell them to leave. That they no longer belong in your life.

He gives a bitter smile, just at the corner of his mouth.

—You’re insane. So insane that... maybe you’ve got a chance to win.

I lift my hand and place it over his heart, where I feel the faint, but steady, beats. Still alive.

—This isn’t about winning. It’s about you. And what can still be saved from you.

He closes his eyes for a moment, and he no longer seems torn between two worlds. Now he’s here. With me. And he lets me touch him.

—What have you been doing these past two weeks, while I wasn’t visiting you? I ask, before he can pull back into his shell.

—I loved the darkness all day, and when night came... I longed for the light. Nights are the hardest, especially after I fall asleep. That’s when the phantoms find me vulnerable and start playing with my mind.

—What kind of phantoms? I ask in a low voice, not wanting to scare him, though just hearing the word makes my stomach tighten.

Adam sighs and leans against the counter, his gaze lost somewhere in the void.

—The ones that wear the faces of the lost. The ones who died because of me. I see them clearly... how they look at me, how they ask why I live and they don’t. Sometimes they say I was saved just to suffer. Other times... they just look. And that’s worse.

I move closer and take his hand in mine, trying to bring him back, to pull him out of those nights where he still seems trapped.

—Did you see my face in those nights? I ask, unsure if I even want the answer.

Adam meets my gaze, and for a moment, he hesitates. Then he answers, raw and devastating:

—Yes. But you were different. You’d take my hand and lead me toward the light. And I... I resisted. Because when I got too close, you vanished. Like warm mist on a cold day.

That’s when I realize it’s not just his pain. It’s his fear of hope. His fear of losing again, if he dares to believe.

—Have you thought about why that might be?

It doesn’t seem fair to press him now that he’s vulnerable, but if he can voice even a few of the things haunting him, maybe he’ll feel lighter by the end of the day.

He looks over my shoulder, avoiding my eyes, and I wonder if he’ll answer—or retreat into his mind again.

—Because you seem like you’ve fallen from Heaven, right in front of me, at my feet, and you see in me the man I could be, but... I know that man no longer exists. I think he did, in another life. One I can barely remember. But, like every angel, you’ll have to return to your Heaven. Far away from me.

—Maybe my Heaven is wherever you are, I say, almost in a whisper, letting my fingers rest against the scar on his cheek.

For a moment, he doesn’t seem to breathe. Maybe I don’t either. Time stops between us, suspended in the words I spoke without thinking, but which feel more true than anything.

—Elara, you don’t deserve to carry my burden. I’m not a man to love. I’m a man you save. And I... I don’t want to break you in the process.

—You can’t break me, Adam. You might hurt me, you might push me away again, but you won’t break me. Not when I know who you truly are, deep down.

He closes his eyes for a second, like he wants to flee from everything he feels. Then he opens them again, and for the first time... I see a spark. Fragile, barely lit, but real. A spark of life.

—If you stay... you do it at your own risk, he says, barely audible.

I smile.