To This Day

Chapter Fifteen: I Need You

I'd finished tending to his injuries, so I put the cap back on the tube and shifted so that I was sat cross legged in front of him.

"I think I want you to know. I mean, I don't, but also I don't want to have secrets from you."

I wondered how he didn't see the irony in saying this, with so much left unspoken between us still, but I just nodded, prompting him to continue.

"So there was this one time, when I was seventeen, I'd been out with some friends and I got back late, later than I was supposed to. When I got in the house my parents were in the kitchen and there was all this shouting. I hung back for a minute and realised it was about me; my Dad was mad that I wasn't back yet and Mom was defending me. Then, when I went in there I saw him push her down and he just started hitting her, worse than normal, worse than I'd ever known--" His voice wavered, but he cleared his throat and regained his composure before continuing. "So I just... snapped. I launched myself on him. Grabbed him from behind and tackled him down to the ground. He fought back, and it should have been difficult, because he's a huge guy, but it just wasn't. I had all this adrenaline and three years worth of hatred and sheer rage. So I had him down on the kitchen tiles and I was just beating the shit of out him. I remember my Mom screaming at me, trying to pull me off him, but I couldn't stop. I'd never hated him more. I wanted him dead and... next thing I knew my hands were round his neck."

Carter's voice was heavy and slow, like in saying this out loud he was only just processing it for the first time. My breathing hitched when he finally ground to a halt at this awful conclusion.

At first, I was speechless. I couldn't imagine the Carter I knew acting so violently, nor could I imagine how it must feel for him to have carried the weight of this with him every day for three years.

"Then what happened?" I asked finally, voice scarcely audible.

He swallowed thickly. Shrugged. "I stopped. What else could I do? I hated him more than anything but I would never murder him. I just let go and took my Mom's hand and went up to my bedroom. None of us ever spoke about it again. He didn't hit her for a while though, I guess he was scared. Of me."

For what felt like the hundredth time in the last few months, I was overwhelmed with hopelessness. I wanted so desperately to help him but I had no idea how. Especially when he was so temperamental when it came to me; one moment he'd be sharing his deepest secrets, the next he'd be closing up completely. He'd run away at the mention of love, then show up at my door when he needed someone. I wanted to be mad at him for it, but I just wasn't. I felt so many things for him, but anger never seemed to be one of them.

Shutting my eyes for a moment, I let out a sigh. Then, I stood up, so that Carter now had to crane his neck to look up at me.

Feeling a wave of fatigue wash over me, I automatically glanced at my clock. 04:41.

Carter noticed and asked, "Do you want me to leave?"

My eyes met his and I saw what they were saying: please don't make me leave. It was written all over his face that he didn't want to be alone and, honestly, I didn't want to let him go. I wanted to look after him but a selfish part wanted this for me; I didn't know if or when we'd be close like this again, so I was making the most of it whilst I had him here.

"Of course not, Carter. Never."

His expression showed me a flash of gratitude and, slightly unsure of what else to do, I sat down beside him, making us equals once again.

"I'm sorry," he said quietly, the moment I sat down.

"Don't worry about it. I'm happy to help."

"No, I mean, I'm sorry for walking out, and for not replying to your texts. I freaked out, and I was scared that if I tried to do something or say something, I'd only make things worse. So I just tried to remove myself from the situation completely. But you should know, even when you didn't hear from me, I was never not thinking of you, Sydney."

My chest ached hard and I swallowed thickly around the lump in my throat. Every time I thought that this was it, that I'd felt the most it was possible to feel about someone, he'd say something like that, and the emotions would become almost unbearable.

When I didn't speak, he added, "I'm not a violent person, Sydney. That was the only time. I'd never hurt anyone else... I'd never hurt you."

Woozy with the mixture of tiredness, pain and love I was feeling, I lent my head on his shoulder. I wasn't sure if the way our bodies seemed to fit so perfectly together made me feel better or worse.

"But I understand if you don't want to get involved with me for it. I get it, no one puts 'attacked their dad' or 'emotionally unavailable' in their list of what they look for in a guy. You deserve better than me."

I paused, frustratingly unable to find the words to reply. Maybe I was just too sleepy, but processing everything he'd said and knowing how to respond correctly felt like an insurmountable task.

So, I did the only thing I could think of to tell him how I felt. Tenderly, careful not to press on any bruises, I tilted his head towards me. With my fingertips still touching his jaw, I kissed him softly, our lips barely brushing.

When we slowly pulled apart, our faces remained close to each other, lips parted. But instead of kissing him again, over and over until we forgot what was troubling us, until the only thing we knew was the feeling of bare skin and wet mouths and roaming hands, I whispered, "Let's get some sleep."

Carter nodded silently, with an expression I couldn't quite figure out, then bent over to untie his shoes. He tugged off his jeans so that he was only in his t-shirt and boxers. Ridiculously, I averted my eyes, as though we'd not had sex before.

But, before I could climb into bed next to him, he looked over at me and his expression brightened.

"You're wearing my sweater."

I looked down at myself, only just now realising that he was right. I'd been so thrown by his appearance at my door that I hadn't even thought about what I was grabbing to put on over my pyjamas. My cheeks flushed and I tugged it off over my head, placing it back on the edge of my desk where it had become a permanent feature.

Quickly switching off the lights, I made my way back into bed. It was only a single so there was no room for any platonic bed sharing; instead I let myself snuggle into him, too exhausted to think about any of the implications. For now, it was just the two of us in this bubble, sharing the same space and warmth and a mutual sense of comfort.

The last thing I heard before drifting off to sleep was Carter murmuring into my neck, "It looked good on you. You should wear it more often."