✓ Chaos Theory | Diego Hargreeves [1]

【CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT】

—chapter twenty-eight.

 ❛ you know i still care about you. ❜  

HE SAT FORWARD, ELBOWS ON HIS KNEES as his eyes stared into the fireplace. The fake flames inside jumped and danced, begging for his approval -- but no sound came. He just watched, stone-faced, and let the orange-red dance across his weary face.

Any wounds, small as they were, had been cleaned and bandaged at that point. He had been quiet for all of it and had only muttered a small 'thank you' when she left, promising tea.

Truthfully, Elodie had left only for her own sake. The tea kettle sat humming on its own as she leaned over the sink, trembling. She wasn't made for this -- not that night, not after everything, not when her hands burned at merely the thought of his face. And the news that he had brought...Grace was by every sense but biological his mother. A beloved one at that. She might not know what that really meant but she knew loss' bite stung more than any physical wound could. Especially with someone like Diego, who dealt with pain so stoically, who never knew how to solve his problems through words.

She sighed and turned the kettle off just before it could start squealing. Leaving him alone wouldn't help. Loss required the touch of another. If he could do it for her, she would have to be there for him, too.

"Hey," Elodie said quietly, reminding him of her presence reentering the living room. Two steaming mugs trembled in her hands but miraculously, not a drop spilled. One got handed off to Diego, who took it without raising the mug to his lips. The other was placed gently on the coffee table in front of them. 

"Diego?"

He did not look her way. Something had caught his attention and it remained face-forward, staring down the mantle with a twisted frown. "You remember when you bought this place? Wh-when I made fun of you for this fake fireplace?"

"Course." All too well.

He had frowned down at the artificial flames, watching them flicker and flutter under his watchful glare. Like he wanted them to mess up, just so he could swoop in and berate them more. 

"Why a fake fireplace? I mean, c'mon--" he had grinned down at her, lips just grazing the tip of her ear. "Someone like you deserves at least the real deal."

Elodie had batted him away with a frown. But it wasn't genuine. He had known that, because he knew her, all too fucking well.

"Don't be a dick. I think it's nice. It's like a metaphor, or something."