Page 127 of Relapse

The rave.

The violence.

Shay drowning in that fucking bathroom.

The pills.

The gunshots.

Everything feels smeared together inside my head like wet paint.

I grab soap with shaky hands and start cleaning blood carefully from his chest and shoulder while steam curls thick around us.

Dagger stays still the entire time.

Letting me touch him.

Take care of him.

I avoid eye contact and keep cleaning blood from his ribs instead.

The bathroom slowly fills with quiet.

Not awkward quiet.

Heavy quiet.

The kind that settles after surviving something horrible together.

Dagger’s fingers eventually slide beneath my chin gently forcing me to look up at him.

“You still with me?”

I nod, and one corner of his mouth twitches faintly.

Then he kisses me.

Soft and slow.

Nothing desperate about it.

Just relief.

My hands slide instinctively up his chest while warm water pours over both of us, washing blood from his skin in thin pink trails that disappear down the drain.

The kiss deepens slightly.

Then again.

Still soft.

Still careful.

Like neither of us has the strength left for rough edges tonight. Like if either one of us presses too hard, the whole fragile thing holding us upright might finally break.

His hand moves slowly down my side, palm dragging over wet skin, fingers pausing briefly at my hip before slipping lower. I shiver immediately, my body reacting before my brain has time to catch up.

Not from arousal.