Page 217 of These Tears

‘What…’ My voice breaks. ‘What is this?’ It comes out thin, foreign.

In pregnant silence, he lets his head thump softly against the wall behind him. His curls cling to his forehead. His face isn’t damp from just sweat, but also… tears. Ones he probably hasn’t allowed himself in years.

‘This is where I have to be right now,’ he murmurs, eyes slipping shut, lashes damp, expression gone eerily still. ‘Leave me alone.’

I move towards him cautiously, stopping just outside the reach of chains, but then his knees draw up to his chest and I halt mid-step.

‘Can I come closer?’

His eyes close briefly, muscles flexing as his feet slide an inch away and his knees ease apart, opening the space for his chest to expand again. When his lids peel open, he gives the smallest nod.

And I close the remaining distance.

The wood grates through my tracksuit and into my skin as I kneel inches away. My eyes roam over the chains, thick metal shackles cuffing his wrists loose enough for him to move, but tight enough to remind him he’s not free.

‘Is this what you’ve been doing here all this time, Elias?’ My voice falters again, disbelief stretching it slim.

My lungs burn as it finally lands: the missing hours, the hollow-eyed, silent stare every time he came out of here.

He doesn’t recoil from me this time.

‘You just don’t give up, do you?’ he rumbles quietly.

I find his gaze, jaw clenching.

And drown in it. His eyes are dull and unfocused. He sits inside the shackles he put on himself, shoulders easing only when the metal reminds him how far he can move. As if freedom isn’t for men like him.

‘I need to be here. You need to leave.’

‘Why?’ I ask, even though I know.

I know.

He inhales shakily, then exhales slowly, as if forcing every cell in his body not to retreat again.

‘I can’t control myself, Leah. I’m wrong.’ His throat works. ‘Every time I look at you, I want to—’

My teeth press together until my gums hurt. ‘What?’ It falls out on a whisper.

His mouth closes, lips forcing into that infuriating line between stubbornness and surrender that I’ve come to know.

I inch forward, no longer afraid of his darkness, but sick of it hiding him from me. ‘I’m going to put my hands on your face,’ I whisper. Wait.

One beat.

Two.

He doesn’t deny me.

I reach for him. His skin is feverish beneath my fingers. His beard scratches the pads of my thumbs as I angle his head slightly and force him to face me.

‘Every time you look at me, you want to do what, Elias?’

His eyes slam shut as if the words pressing against his teeth shame him more than the chains. ‘Hurt you,’ he finally breathes.

‘No. Look at me.’ I run my thumb over his cheekbone.

His lashes lift. Our eyes lock.