Playing With Fire

Chapter Thirty-Four

                                                     Recap 

             He leans back against the armrest and stares at me in silence, probably expecting me to ask him more questions. So when none come out, we simply stare. I re-memorize every curve and dent in his expression.

                He’s wearing a solemn one this time.

            His lips are dressed in a straight, blunt line and his eyes lack the energy they usually do. The show is over and the curtains have closed.

              His guards are down, his gun unloaded.

            He has peeled off his fearless and warrior-like mask, and for the first time, I see him for who he really is.

Broken.

            I never saw it before—the raw emotion. It leaves me breathless and bittersweet all at once. For it has always been a secret motivation to fix him. Yet, after all this time, when I see him now, I realize that what I see in him is exactly what he must see in me.

             “How are you holding up?” He breaks the tranquil ambiance with a barely audible undertone.

             “I don’t know.” I mumble honestly, clutching the blanket in my fists. “None of this feels real.”

              He chuckles darkly, “I warned you that things could get really messy.”

             “I know.” I agree slowly, watching his brows knit in confusion. Perhaps this is the first time we’ve ever agreed on something. “…I don’t care.”

             “You don’t care?” He repeats incredulously, outrage brimming furiously at the edge of his voice.

           “No.” I repeat with terrifying sincerity. I watch cautiously as astonishment occupies his previously vacant expression. “I don’t.”

                                       Chapter Thirty Four 

           “You’re crazy.” The anger laced in his tone is present, though not as powerfully as a few minutes ago. It seems that with every ticking moment, his relief conquers the rage that cages his emotions. 

             “So are you.” I point out, challenging him to object.

           The corners of his mouth tilt up at my remark. Instead of replying however, he reaches for the knob of my knee and squeezes either side. The bone jolts at the touch of a tickling sensation and I jerk back.

               When I look up, he’s holding back a smirk.

               I grumble at his surprising confidence and readjust the blanket over my legs.

           When he recovers from his humorous fit, when his soft gaze tightens at the thought of reality, he suddenly becomes serious. I watch, mesmerized, as the life vanishes from his eden green eyes as quickly as it came.

                “What do you plan to do?” He asks while shifting the weight on his back.

             The ghostly image of our isolated house reappears in my head, and I suppress the urge to shiver. Despite this, I feel goosebumps rise like an oozing volcano on the surface of my skin.          

             “I’m not sure,” I whisper honestly, my gaze flickering to his face, “I was hoping you would have a plan.”

               “Well I did have something in mind,” He purses his lips, “but it doesn’t involve you.”