He was worse than any thirsty man, with his dry parted lips releasing the weakest of breaths in the room drenched in darkness. The strong air conditioning was seeping through his trembling limbs, and he was holding himself tight, as tight as he could to stagger to somewhere, just anywhere, but not there.
It was around midnight—or even past that. Not that it matters. He had just thrown the stuffy covers away, clad in sweat, unbeknownst to his sleeping companion, and his weary consciousness was his only evasion from the nightmare, one of which he never seemed to have escaped.
Aiden lifted his head up from focusing on his stumbling feet, squinting eyes trying to distinguish what seemed to be the bathroom door.
He saw the feeble moonlight like it was his last ray of hope. Aiden tried to move, but the ringing in his ears persisted like an annoying clamor, every fiber of his body refusing to move an inch. And suddenly the mumbling was corroded by screams and yelling; voices from a notional distance.
The noises pierced through his head until he was on the floor, pressed onto one of the corners of the wall, frantic and barely managing with his hands curling and fisting harshly among his raven locks as the noises grew louder and louder with each second.
But Aiden refused to even utter a word wishing for aid despite his current poor condition—trying to ascertain that his pathetic state should be obscured from the world’s eyes.
He throttled the soft sobs with what was left of his power because they threatened to reveal a gateway back to the start. Tears welled in his eyes as the pain in his head grew by the moment, it hurts—damn it hurts. Everything hurts.
As if the pain was invisible to his scalp, his hands that were gripping onto his hair grew ever so tighter each second, but Aiden couldn’t seem to feel it. Or anything, for that matter. By then, the voices in his head became clear to him now; and by then, he concluded it was useless.
The man’s eyes were soiled with stupefaction, unconvincingly glowering at the pool of tears puddling on the tiled floor. But the reflection on it wasn’t him—except it was—but it was a part of him that Aiden wanted so badly to forget that ever existed.
Instead, a stranger looked back at him, dull eyes devoid of brilliance and innocence.
His head started spinning as the tears came unbidden, and suddenly he was trapped with a drunkard who is a narcissist who thinks he contributed his entire life when technically he didn’t. He was trapped with a woman he couldn’t protect, and sometimes the victim herself is the problem—his mother’s heart was too big the size of his father’s ego could fit, his infidelity could fit, the amount of days where he would come home with another woman could fit, the hours of cleaning her husband’s mess could fit.
Anything that could hurt her was kept in that big heart of hers.
“N-no, please don’t–”
He could still hear it. He could still hear her, as if he was back in that cozy little house, witnessing something he wished he didn’t. There was a childish anger for a moment, one that blamed his mother for not fighting back, and one towards himself for not being able to protect her.
The voices grew louder and Aiden closed his eyes, trying to find any remaining tranquility there is but it didn’t seem to help as the voices only spun around him, toying with him; taunting him.
“Do you really think you can get rid of me that easily?”
There were two voices roaring at each other, one of an endangered woman’s and one of a man’s. It was surreal, his nostrils could even smell the odor of liquor. His tongue could taste her fear, the anxiety which plummeted through her burning chest and then–
Aiden screamed.
And cried.
And couldn’t stop.
•••
The sheets were too cold.
—Due to their vacancy. Elsa tossed and turned in discomfort, feeling the empty surface beside her in a blink of an eye. She sat up tiredly, her gaze grasping around aimlessly in the dark for the designer’s presence. His absolute absence made her worried, and he couldn’t possibly go outdoors eleven in the night.
Elsa slid off the bed and wandered to the living room of the suite, the skirt of her nightgown swinging as she made her way to the switch of the lights. Aiden had to be nearby. She was starting to sense his odd sleeping habit. It’s easy to assume he wakes up early in the morning, as he goes to the office even earlier than her, yet this was the first time she thought she could see him sleep late.
Or otherwise.
He was just right there, curled against an unnoticed corner. Rocking himself. Holding himself—trying desperately to just get out of there because he couldn’t take it anymore.
At first, Elsa didn’t know what to do when she drew nearer to get a better look at him, reluctant that if she touched him he’d lose it completely. One wrecking sob from the face buried in his lap was all it took for her to gather her courage and entirely approach him.
She wrapped an arm around him, sitting next to him in the cold of the floor.
Sitting next to him in the middle of what seemed like his agony.
“... Aiden? Aiden, love? ...” she could barely call that a whisper. But she knew it was loud enough to inform him that she’s here.
It wasn’t. Elsa took one of the large hands threaded in his black tresses and watched as he lifted his head from the muscles of his thighs, exposing his bloodshot eyes—and they widened in the most startling manner, the gorgeous emeralds he owned reflecting fright.
The hand she once wrapped in hers broke away from any contact, causing the blond to back away in shock. Aiden could obviously see her and–and, feel her, couldn’t he? What is wrong?
His spine met the wall with a thud, and he looked so paralyzed in fear. He was trembling and his hair was disheveled, and he never gave a chance for the streaks of his tears to dry because he was so afraid... Of what?
“D-don’t–”
Elsa stopped dead in her tracks in hopes of reaching him.
“Love?” she managed to croak out, softly in confusion.
When she looked into his eyes—which were not even focused on her, but a particular spot on the wall—all her questions have been silenced.
“... Hurt me, p-please.”
Aiden’s hallucinating.
“I’m not going to hurt you,” Elsa smiled weakly, “Shh, Aiden, look, love it’s me–”
He was the eye of the storm yet at the same time, he was just another traveler seeking its solace.
Elsa took a startled step back. This was more than what she signed up for... But she’s here, and he looked so vulnerable and pained and Elsa didn’t want to become a victim of such a tragic calamity lashing out in front of her right now—but she could do it. She could. She could... at least, she hoped so.
Elsa felt lost.
She couldn’t believe it. He was the man who taught her how to twirl shamelessly by the jukebox. The man who adored the blue of her eyes, the man who loved to sneak the make-up kit out of her grasp with a stubborn pout because he saw her way more than another pretty face. The man who couldn’t afford to let a dribble of rain to fall on her—each idea was ridiculous, but each and every one made her happy than anything she was capable of.
He makes her happy. But why were his tears also creating a massive impact on her?
Elsa made a safe path for herself to take, each hesitant step shrinking the breathless man’s apprehension ever so slowly.
Aiden’s dull eyes were suddenly bothered by a running spark, and then he was the “right” him again.
She bent down and crawled forward so she could finally sit next to him, making sure each motion was as steady as the other to let him know it was her, it was Elsa, and she understood.
The brilliant spark in his irises made his eyes settle back to their brilliant glory, and Elsa could perceive relief among his remaining tears. Aiden’s eyes softened, lips still quivering. He had cried so much it hurts too much to blink.
Or if he blinked, the voices will come back and he’ll be at his peak all over again.
“Elsa.”
He rasped, his voice fragile and timid he was afraid if he called for her name—or her aid—she wouldn’t be able to handle a mess as chaotic as him. As stupid as him, as useless as him, and—but he promised her. He believed in himself now. Aiden, learn.
“I j-just wanted to stop h-him–”
She grabbed his face, the cold pads of her thumbs wiping away the tears that made his cheeks stiff and it hurts, damn it, damn it, it hurts and he just wants it to go away. Elsa held him so gently and with such care as if he would break if she threatened to make even the slightest change in movement.
“You’re alright, it’s okay,” and then she watched him squint and pour tears again, in breathless wonder, as he looked up to her with the crinkles by his eyes accompanying his green orbs filled with yearning and pain that had almost fooled her she wouldn’t be able to understand or awaken him.
Her hand caressed his cheek, it was subtle; but it was there.
It was just like another illusion.
He watched her with unsaid words. Everything he’s ever wanted to say or let out had been forgotten since he’s just gotten rid of every emotion; he felt numb. Aiden was speechless. Aiden was tired.
She could read him like an open book. Her hand continued to wipe away the tears until there were none left and he melted completely at the softness of her palm, his lips kissing the milky hollow of her wrist.
Elsa helped him up to his feet, neglecting the bedroom to transfer themselves to the couch. He was still so quiet, but this time Elsa knew.
Her fingers combed his hair delicately, and the sensation soothed him down so much his eyes were threatening to close.
“Go ahead,” she encouraged softly. Aiden refused—but his body agreed.
The last sensation he felt was her kiss tickling his forehead; and he was dreamlessly sleeping.
Elsa loved him, even him at his worst.
To be continued
On the next chapter...