❝ Bambi ❞
Life has been unicolored before, painted in the only shade she knew. Home. For Amber, she had thought, home was the start and the end to her story. Brought up in a family with decreasing size, she increasingly began to distance herself from the dangerous periphery of her own comfort zone―up until she could no longer do that.
On account of that, things have changed.
Motels. Strip bars. Money and guns galore―lowlife at its finest. The shades her life is painted in now are nowhere near the black and white frame she used to think in. No. Everything is grey.
The motel room appears like a breathing organism―by day it is merciful, showing empathy; it lets her breathe. But by late night, by the time any sign of sun has disappeared from the sky, it devours her like an animal; stifles her with its sickening, musty bed sheets, weighs down on her with its gruesome, too familiar darkness.
It only feels worse now that she's alone.
Seth has been gone for two hours.
Minutes after he left, she awaited the car to start, the headlights to shine right through the shutters, but nothing happened. Yet, he took off.
But where did he go?
Could be the bar across the road. Could be another strip joint. Could be no destination at all.
He won't be gone for too long.
At least that's what she keeps telling herself.
No, Amber thinks. He won't leave her. He's got all his stuff here.
"He's got me here."
Whatever is happening between them, he won't leave her.
Her eyes flicker to the table. He even left his gun here.
But what if he did decide to leave?
She tries to think of reasons. They fight, but there is nothing less to expect from two people who are constantly around each other, having been nothing but stranger only three months ago.
There doesn't always have to be a reason to leave.
Abandonment. She doesn't take it well. Daddy issues, brother issues, uncle issues. The entirety of the male race in her life appears to depart, leave her, abandon her; all for reasons that are out of her control. She doesn't take it well. No. She doesn't take it well at all.
Involuntarily, moments of the Twister replay in her mind―moments she thought she was never gonna be able to reflect on again, because she'd be dead. Sometimes, at her weakest times, she does wish that.
And what was all that talk about Richie?
Richie. He is the explosive Seth needs to blow over. Pour a little Richie in the conversation, Seth will ignite. Mix him into this cocktail of their weird relationship; Seth's gone.
He cares. That's why.
Seth Gecko is not made of stone after all.
Maybe she isn't naive to believe. Maybe he cares after all.
Yeah, he cares about you caring about the only person that he trusted, the person that has hurt him terribly.
Her stomach coils at the thought of Seth hurting. Of him closing in, building up a wall to shield himself of confrontation because he cannot bear it. Not when it comes to his brother. It pains her so much to think of him, experiencing such devastation, she begins to feel it physically.
Richie tore out a piece of Seth when he refused to go with him. And Amber? She's just another person who's tied to his brother. It burns him like acid when thinking of it.
A simple, fucking kiss. But to Seth? Betrayal.
But why?
She continues to think, her eyes red and swollen.
Taking that step, kissing him when he's never even made an attempt to do anything of such nature, did she push him away?
But then why bring up Richie? Why continue to dwell on it?
The lock in the door suddenly clicks, and Amber snaps out of her thoughts, her heart battering against her chest all of a sudden.
The night manager.
Her first thought sets her into ultimate panic.
She should've gotten out of the bed and gone straight for the gun, but she's frozen, doesn't dare to move. Only her eyes jump the door's way.
The person enters, and quickly, she recognizes Seth's frame.
He looks over to her lying on the bed, and the moment their eyes meet, she regrets ever questioning her intentions.
How dare she lie to herself.
How dare she refuse to accept that things can never go back to what they were. They can't.
You cannot go back from love.
Her heart sinks, and she turns away. Never been more tense around him, Amber now attempts to pretend that her entire world isn't collapsing due to her sudden clarity, pretends she doesn't want to cry and laugh at the same time.
A sad girl.
How unfortunate.
She forces herself to breathe quietly, more attentive than ever. She hears the shoes land on the ground, the slow, steady unbuttoning of his shirt, the material landing on the rest of the chair after he's taken it off. The sound of his steps, circling the bed to his side in a careful way, before finally a pause. Then the mattress creaks, and he lay next to her.
Her eyes stay closed―she cannot bear to look at him.
What would she see were she to do so?
Those eyes. Those dark hazel eyes. They've seen so much pain. So much fear. Anger. Betrayal.
She could look at him, and feel like she's looking at herself instead―just as him, she's seen it all. But to Amber, all those things tie her closer to him. Pain; it is sweet like her nickname that slips from his lips. Fear; it is overwhelming like her affection for him. Anger; it is hot like the air between them. Betrayal; it is sharp like the knives in their backs.
For a long time nothing happens.
Amber struggles to displace the thoughts, fight any kind of nervousness that her body emits. She can no longer tell whether he's sleeping or not―hearing his steady breaths could be a sign of either.
She is thinking of a thing to say to him―until suddenly―a hand brushes past her skin, moving a strand of hair away from her face.
She opens her eyes and turns to him.
With his head, Seth is leaning against the headboard, the tired glance and parted lips rendering his image innocent.
Amber continues to look at him, that torn man laying beside her, wishing he could do it again, forgetting everything that has been plaguing her before.
His face is mottled by cautiousness, but he still doesn't stop―Amber watches him shift, before she realizes he's opened his arms to her.
No words are needed.
The glance he returns is unmistakable, and so she moves closer until she's fully embraced by his arms, resting her head slowly on his chest, where his heart races like it's running on gasoline.
She leaves her eyes closed, her pulse throbbing in her neck and her mouth becoming dry. She feels him pull her closer into his body, gripping her tighter, and she cannot grasp reality, comprehend and understand that this―this―is truly happening.
She slings her arms around him with an air of desperation, unwilling to let go again. No, she doesn't want to let go anymore.
Stay with me.
I won't leave.
To Amber, it feels like they lie like this for hours. Truth is, every second that passes feels like a hundred, and every moment like a highly salient memory already imprinting itself in her mind.
He isn't sleeping, she knows. She can still feel his heart beat, going fast. It matches hers, only that he can't hear, but perhaps he can feel. She's lying almost entirely on top of him now, nestling into him; Seth Gecko, her company. Bad company, one might say. To Amber, however, he's never been just that.
She lifts her head, despite the steady breathing, because this silence, she can no longer take it. The subtle personal scent of the man seems to move in on her as she looks up to his face; where she meets his eyes.
Their fight is extinguished―all those things they've been fighting about―Richard, Rafael, whatever―it doesn't matter. They don't change what's happening. What's been going on for weeks.
They continue to look at each other, but after a few seconds she feels his hands let go of her body, much to her disappointment―before they suddenly frame her face.
Touch me.
Don't ever let go again.
She lets him touch her cheek, feels him beginning to caress it slowly with his thumb. Like she's a perfect doll. Soft and numb, she begins to feel. Time is standing still for as long as she is looking into his eyes, lying in his embrace, so close to his face she can see the stubbles of his beard and the long, dark lashes of his eyes as they flutter with every blink. He never averts his eyes from her, just continues to caress her, play with the small strands of her hair by the side of her face like it's silk in his fingers. He's been looking at it for too long, always telling himself to never break those boundaries they had established. It doesn't matter anymore. Things will never go back to what they used to be.
And even though it scares her, those things that could happen that would break this bliss―this peace―she can't stop looking at him. She cannot tell what is going to happen next―she thinks that one second―and the next it already happens.
He moves down to her, pulling her face closer to his; before he slowly places his lips on her cheek.
The gentleness is overwhelming, spreading from the pit of her stomach through her entire system. He leans back again but doesn't release her from his grip; simply observing, looking over her face for any sign of discomfort.
There is none. Instead, big eyes stare back at him.
The image flips a switch within him, and then she feels it again.
Lips.
The next kiss is placed on her lips, sending goosebumps down her body, and her chest trembles at the excitation. He tastes like residue of liquor, smokey but sweet, like old whiskey, like burned wood. The rough hair of his beard sting her chin with the new kiss he gives, and she reaches out to touch them subtly, fingertips gliding over stubbles up his jaw. He's going slow with his kisses, doesn't rush―she can feel it. The ground both are stepping onto right this moment is new; fragile. One wrong move, it'll break.
Impatient, however, she feels under the pressure of the growing feeling in her heart, moving further on top of him, both her hands by the sides of his face now, while his hand wanders down her back to her hip, where it stays. Her heart is going full throttle, and nothing but their soft kisses fill the ominous night that is creeping into the room through the shutters.
Devour me, night.
Devour me, she thinks. I've got nothing more to lose.
No.
Now, she's got everything to lose.