• Midnight rain • vegas x yn

12. silence

As he finished his ministrations, he held out a pill to me, urging me to take it. However, a pang of skepticism gnawed at me, a testament to the guarded nature of my circumstances. "I don't trust you," I found myself saying, a hint of suspicion coloring my voice. "What if it's poison?"

A sardonic smile tugged at Vegas' lips as he replied, his tone laced with a challenge. "You think that?" His actions followed his words as he popped the pill into his mouth, a gesture that seemed to dare me to question his intentions further.

His proximity suddenly became palpable as he leaned in, his body hovering over mine. Our faces were so close that I could feel the warmth of his breath against my skin. My heart raced a mixture of uncertainty and something else that I couldn't quite pinpoint coursing through me.

His gaze locked onto mine, his eyes holding a magnetic intensity that I couldn't look away from. Something about his gaze, a mixture of vulnerability and determination, seemed to bridge the gap between us.

And then, as if in response to the unspoken tension that hung between us, his lips brushed mine in a soft, lingering kiss. My breath caught in my throat, the sensation of his touch sending a shockwave of emotions through me.

As our lips parted, I found myself drawn into the depths of his eyes once again. The pill, once a source of doubt, was now forgotten, the boundaries between us fading in the wake of that intimate moment. My lips parted slightly, a silent invitation that I hadn't even realized I was giving.

Vegas seized the opportunity, his fingers gently tilting my chin upwards. With a mixture of tenderness and urgency, he placed the pill in my mouth, the sensation of his lips against mine making the gesture feel like an electric charge that pulsed through me.

As the pill dissolved and the taste of it mingled with the lingering traces of our kiss, it was as if a connection had been solidified between us. No longer confined by words, our unspoken desires, and vulnerabilities were laid bare in that intimate exchange.

He settled onto the floor, his gaze still fixed on me, his presence almost a reassurance amidst the turmoil that had unfolded between us. I couldn't help but voice my darkest thoughts, asking him why he hadn't allowed me to succumb to my circumstances. "Why don't you let me die now?" I questioned, my voice heavy with the weight of my struggles.

His response was chilling, a reflection of his pain and resentment. "That's too easy," he said with a haunting sincerity. "I won't let you leave this place so easily. I want to see you suffer, to feel the pain."

I probed further, wanting to understand the source of his animosity. "What happened to you?" I asked, my voice softer now, infused with genuine curiosity.

Vegas' eyes held a mixture of bitterness and resignation as he recounted his trials. "My father left," he began, his voice carrying the weight of old wounds. "He scolded me, berated me for how much I sucked at everything." His self-deprecation was stark, his self-worth crumbling under the weight of his father's expectations.

I tried to reason with him, to offer a different perspective. "Everyone has their good and bad parts," I told him gently, wanting to remind him that his worth was not defined by his father's expectations. "You're doing this to prove yourself to your father. Doesn't that count for something?"

He scoffed, his laughter tinged with a hint of irony. "You only see the world in bright colors," he remarked, a mixture of exasperation and admiration in his voice. "You don't know what I've been through."

Lying there, under Vegas' gaze, the mixture of vulnerability and curiosity in his eyes prodded me to share a fragment of my own story, a tale buried beneath the facade of my family's wealth and status. The tension that had held us in its grip seemed to soften, if only for a moment, as I ventured to bridge the gap between us.