Chapter 7. Wrecked
1139 Words
Selene
He smiled “only the ones who look like they’re trying not to exist.”
I blinked. “That’s dramatic.”
“But true, and it’s true you followed me.”
I swallowed “ so I looked like I’m trying not to exist?”
“Yes.”
“you don’t know me.”
“No I don’t” he said. “But I recognize th weight in your eyes.”
That silenced me because he wasn’t wrong?
“You look like you carry too much,” he added quietly.
“So do you,” I said without thinking.
He looked at me then.
“You don’t ask many questions,” I said. “Don’t you even want to know my name?”
“My apologies, so what’s the name”
“And you expect me to tell you?”
“Yes.”
I turned my face away. “How about you tell me yours.”
He was quiet for a beat. “It doesn’t matter tonight.”
“And you think it’ll matter later?”
He gave a small, unreadable smile. “Maybe.”
“You can’t eat your name all I care.”
I mean he’s refused to tell he’s the pack’s heir so I can drop the honorifics.
“What?” He smiled.
“What do you want from me ?” I asked suddenly, the words sharp and unsure.
He took a step closer. “I don’t know.”
“I didn’t mean to know.”
“That’s not comforting.”
“I didn’t mean it to be.”
Another step. Close enough now that I could I could see how pointing his nose is.
“Why do I think you’re used to running?” He murmured
“And I think you’re used to chasing things you shouldn’t catch,” I said.
He didn’t react. If anything, he leaned in. His presence wrapped me like a shadow. And for a terrifying second I wanted him to kiss me.
Not because it made sense. But I just wanted him to. I suddenly felt tired of pretending.
I turned my head before the space could vanish between us. I needed distance. I needed air.
“I should go,” I whispered
But I didn’t move.
“Do you always lie when you’re scared?” He asked me.
I met his eyes again. “Maybe, only when matters.”
He looked at my lips. Just once. And th. Away.
“We don’t have to call this anything, but don’t act like you don’t feel it.”
“I don’t know what it is.”
“Niether do I,” he agreed.
He could feel it In the way my heart reached for him like it was starved. In the way he looked at me like I was something fragile he didn’t want to shatter, and something dangerous he shouldn’t resist. Or maybe that was my imagination but it didn’t matter.
His hand lifted. Just barely. Fingers brushing brushing the edge of my wrist, feather-light. I took my hand away to avoid him reaching my palm.
“I don’t usually do this.”
“I don’t do this too.”
We just stood like that.
But something happened. Not a kiss, not a confession. Just understanding.
I don’t remember who moved first.
Maybe I was or maybe he did.
But suddenly, we weren’t just standing under moonlight anymore. We were drenched in it. Drowning I. The space between restraint and surrender.
His hand curled around mine, not like forcefully but like he had alway belonged there, I made sure my gloves didn’t pull. And he didn’t ask why I was over protective of the gloves, he pulled me forward, deeper into the garden until we reached a small stone bench beneath a willow tree. The leaves hung low, like they were trying to hide us from the rest of the world.
I saw slowly, my chest rising and falling very fast. He didn’t sit beside me. He stood in front of me, his hand in his pocket his head tilted like he was trying to resist whatever madness this was.
But he wasn’t doing a good job.
“You’re shaking,” he said, his voice a shade rougher than before.
“I’m not cold,” I replied my voice barely coming out.
“No, you’re not.”
The night wrapped us in stillness. But inside me, everything was loud.
My thoughts, my pulse, my stupid traitorous heartbeat that leapt every time his eyes glaced over me. How much I hated that he made me feel like this.
“Do you ever stop pretending?” He asked, kneeling down so he was eyes level with me. “Even for one night,”
“I’m not pretending.”
“You are. You pretend nothing affects you. Like no one can touch you. I noticed since we met. I’ve been watching you.”
He was this close. His words too intimidate.
“And what did you see?” I asked him my voice trembling.
“I see a girl who’s been silent for long she’s forgotten how to scream.”
He leaned in slowly, his hand lifting to brush my cheek, “I don’t want to fix you,” he whispered “I don’t even think you’re broken.”
His words shouldn’t have reached as deep as they did. But they cracked something open. A place I thought was long buried.
I didn’t pull away.
“You talk like you know me.” I said, heart racing. “ but you don’t
“I would like to.”
I scoffed “why?”
“It’s not something I feel often.”
I didn’t realize I was crying until he reached up , gently brushed a tear I hadn’t noticed. His thumb was warm against my cheek, and that tiny kindness undid me.
And then I did the reckless thing.
I kissed him.
Not out of love. But because I wanted to feel something other than the ache in my chest. I needed to know if I was capable of feeling anything.
He didn’t hesitate, his mouth met mine, slow but intense, more like he’d been holding himself all night and is finally letting himself unravel his hand found my waist, pullin me closer until there was no space left between us.
It wasn’t sweet.
It was a messy honest and desperate moment.
And I felt seen in a way.
I pulled away, breathless, shaken my lips buzzing “we shouldn’t…”
“I know,” rasped “but I’m not sorry.”
He sat beside me. We didn’t speak for a long time. The garden held us like a secret.
And for once, I let myself exist in it.
Just a girl.
Just a boy.
Wrecked by the weight of their own truths.
- Writer
