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she is showered and warm, pyjamas on and tucked in her bed, slender fingers holding a book as she lays on her side. peace in her home is rare, lexi wants to enjoy it. she has spent one entire hour in the bathroom, skin care done, nice bath relaxing muscles under her skin. but her eyes do dart toward her phone, the lack of notifications something she is not used to anymore, not for so long anyway.
it’s worry that gnaws at her stomach, that makes her glance at the screen over and over, hoping to hear from him. see, she met him only a few weeks ago but he has already made such an impact, has taken such space in her life. she had not realized at first, how much space he’s taken. it has been slow and tender, one text after the other, a question that led to whole conversations. it became calls, never ending ones with his voice soft in her ears. in his absence, the first time he’s failed to text her back quickly, lexi has realized how much she cares about him, how much she’s relied on the stability he’s provided her with.
but it’s been two hours without a text, without anything and there is a strange feeling in her guts, one that tells her something is wrong. but she forces herself to not touch her phone, forces herself to focus on her book, the familiar lines she’s read thousands of times.
she opens her eyes, face half pressed inside the book, exhausted hand pushing it away before a noise makes her freeze. fingers pass through her hair as she sits up, fists rubbing at her eyes before she gets to her feet, frowning as she looks by the window. the sound seems to come from there and there it is, the one that woke her up : fezco. eyes slightly widen before her frown returns, deeper as she spots what seems to be blood on his shirt, on his face.
it’s a reflex, to open the window, "fezco ? are you okay ?"
there’s a wince mixing with a grin on his lips as he looks up, "can i like, come in ?"
she nods before she understands the question, a plan already forming in her head, "yeah, i’ll come open the front door for you."
she closes the door, an urgency in her steps though the sound of her steps is muffled by the carpeted stairs, thinking, thinking : ohmygod, fezco is going to be in my house.
lexi doesn’t allow herself to linger on those thoughts, knows enough about herself to not do it. the door opens swiftly, grin on her lips fading as she takes in his state.
"hope i ain’t like bothering ya or some shit. i texted ya but," and his features contorts in a mix of pain and embarrassment.
"just come in, fezco. what happened to you ?" she speaks as she moves, closing the door and gently gripping the fabric of his shirt to pull him after her.
"some stupid shit. but, i dunno, saw yer texts, wanted ya t’see i was fine."
his gentleness, his kindness, it makes her melt, organs liquid among her bones, heart squeezing in the most nerve wracking way. but her eyes narrow, on the blood on his hands, on the tears of his shirt, on the apple of his cheek on which violet would soon blossom she would wager.
"you don’t look fine, you look hurt."
she doesn’t really think as she lets him in her bedroom, doesn’t really think when she closes the door but she realizes where they are once she turns. it feels strange, weirdly comforting, to see him standing in her bedroom.
this evening has not gone the way he thought it would and he does not really understand how he came to be here : standing in lexi howard’s bedroom, with blood dripping from his eyebrow and bruises on his hands.
he feels safe there, blue hues wandering around, taking in the two beds, having no difficulties in guessing which side is hers. there are books on the floor, posters and pictures behind her bed frame, a cute small bed with flowers on the bedding.
she asks for his attention back, diverts his wandering eyes until they land on her : untied hair and too big shirt with a rainbow on it. lexi howard in her pyjamas is a sight to behold.
"where are you hurt ?"
those wide brown eyes, the care and concern, she feels so warm and comfortable, so gentle and too good, way too good for him. there’s a sharp pain in his guts, a tiredness that catches up with him as adrenaline finally runs out.
"did i wake ya ? fuck, i just, i didn’t think ‘bout nothing, just thought, i don’t even know, i’m sorry."
fezco feels undeserving, the way they have built something that feels strong and fragile, her texts like stars in the darkness of his life, guiding him, bringing him light. and he’s fucking it up, by letting her see more of that part of his life he’s not proud of, that part of his life he’s never wanted her to witness. that playboy shit had been enough, he should not have come here.
"i’m glad you’re here, that you came. you need help, i’m happy to do so, fezco," he cannot pinpoint how she makes her voice twirl like this, to give her tone such quiet confidence, to find the words he wants, no, needs to hear. "now take your shoes off and sit, i’ll go grab the first aid kit."
she disappears behind another door, a last look given to him, making him sit on the side of her bed, wincing and sighing as he pushes his shoes off his feet, swearing under his breath as he catches blood on the leather of it. he loves those stupid shoes, now they’re all fucked.
he presses his head in his palms, elbows resting on his knees, trying to catch his breath and to not fall asleep.
thankful, he should be thankful for that motherfucker that made him fight, because he gets to spend time with her, to finally have a background for her voice, to imagine the stage she is on when they’re on the phone.
she takes a second, to look in her own eyes through the mirror, to try finding strength but also to try calming herself the fuck down. fezco is in her room, sitting on her bed. it’s fine, it’s just fucking fine. jaw muscles roll under her skin, fingers opening the cabinet door, reaching for the first aid kit.
a deep breath, a last look to remind herself to stay fucking chill, and she goes back to the room. her heart running back to her as her gaze finds him. it can’t be helped : he looks cute without his shoes on, sat on her little bed.
naked feet pad toward him, the light on her nightstand soft on his features, drawing his shadow on her wall, a painting she would like to keep forever. "ready to let me have a look ?"
it seems intimate, her voice mirrors it, a whisper in the room, unwilling to break the peace, feeling like he might get spooked by any sudden noise. head turns, his too blue eyes looking up at her, drawing a smile from her lips before she goes to face him, a question in her gaze as her fingertips approach his face.
a nod is given, his eyes not leaving her face as her fingers grip his chin, turning his head with gentle care, observing him, trying not to get distracted by his probing hues. she has to crouch down, precarious on tiptoes. she cleans dry blood with a compress before pressing a clean one to his bleeding eyebrow. "eyebrows bleed a lot but it’s never too bad. the bones in the face are very robust, all but the nose."
lexi knows she babbles uselessly but he doesn’t seem to mind, she can still feel his burning eyes, her own darting, a blush rising to her cheeks and she feels unbalanced on her toes. his hands are quick to steady her, settling on her waist. "don’t hurt yourself over me."
she thinks she wouldn’t mind at all, her eyes caught in his, to hurt herself for him.
he feels like he’s on fire, the way his fingers rest against her sides, feeling the warmth of her skin. her breath is gentle against his forehead, trying to have his eyes not stare at her chest, the way her shirt gaps slightly, revealing perfect skin from the elegant tilt of her neck to her chest. teeth dig into his tongue, hoping for the pain to distract him enough. on instinct, he moves a bit away, twisting just enough that a sharp breath passes his lips, pain shouting to his ribs.
“did i hurt you ?”
she’s crouched down lower, brown eyes meeting his with evident worry, one he doesn’t want to be the cause of.
“nah, ya perfect. think i fucked up my ribs too.”
he shouldn’t have said so, slender fingers closing on the hem of his shirt, pulling it up, unraveling freckled skin. blood creeps up with the fabric of his shirt, knowing it useless to argue, trying to lift his arm a bit. lexi seems to get it, the way she pulls on the white shirt until he’s shirtless, right in front of the coolest girl in the world.
there’s a soft gasp but he doesn’t want to look, doesn’t want to know. his eyes focus on her though, on the slope of her nose, on the porcelain skin of her cheeks, on her dark eyelashes. she is the prettiest girl he’s ever laid eyes on, her mouth so pink, his own begging to know its taste, her taste.
her fingers feel cold as they press against his ribs, wince through gritted teeth, eyes darting to the pain, his skin purple, such a contrast to the ivory of hers, another reminder that his place is not by her side.
"it looks badly bruised but i think i’ve read that it should hurt to breathe if it was broken," he’s too stunned by her endless knowledge to speak, finding himself only staring at her. "does it only hurt when i press ?" her touch is featherlight but it feels like a knife in his guts, "i’m sorry, i just needed to be sure, i’ll grab you ice for the swelling."
she’s quick to rise, a hesitancy to her movement, a second where she seems to want to add something, her eyes yearning for something. but it quickly passes, "i’ll be quick, don’t move."
lexi says it as if she was scared he would disappear, his smile amused as she blushes, leaving the door slightly ajar.
fezco lets his eyes wander around, decided to not move from his spot, to listen to her directive to the letter. there is so much he wishes to say, to convey, he thinks remaining exactly where he is is a good way to thank her somehow. he feels like lexi is oftentimes doubting people after being so disappointed by them. he will earn her trust, by being where he’s supposed to be, by keeping his word, always.
it does not mean that he cannot try to find more about her by observing his surroundings, fingers reaching for his phone, writing down book and movie titles he can see. it’s a window into her soul he cannot help but glance at.
he’s right where she left him, miles and miles of polka dot skin, bruises on his ribs and a compress on his eyebrow. he must be the most beautiful boy she’s ever seen, not that she’s seen many but there’s something about him. it’s in the way he talks about his brother, in the way he snickers like a naughty child, in the way his eyes were after beating up nate. there seems to be a conflict in his soul about who he is, violence and tenderness cohabiting in precarious balance.
ice cold brings her back, making her stop her staring, walking toward him after pushing the door closed. she tries to be gentle as she presses it against his ribs, attentive eyes catching the way he winces, biting her own lip as she refrains from apologizing.
phone face down on her bed, bloody knuckles cover it, her gaze called to his. seconds in silence trickle by, making her want to caress his face, to offer him a reprieve from the exhaustion he cannot hide right now. "i have to clean your hands and then i think you’ll be good."
she chances a smile, his hands slow to replace hers, holding the ice pack against his side, "ya don’t have to, ya know ? just came to show ya i was alright."
her gaze is scolding as she sits next to him, reaching for his hand, pressing compress and antiseptic on his skin, "and what ? go to sleep and hope to wake up tomorrow?" her head shakes, scolding in her hues, "c’mon, let me help."
let me take care of you she would have wanted to say, wondering who takes care of him, knowing in her bones the answer is no one. and she thinks he deserves it, thinks he deserves care and gentleness, some place where he can rest (she thinks the crook of her neck would be a perfect place for his head to lay against, to nest against.
“means a lot, ya doing this, ya know ?” her smile is tender as she keeps cleaning blood away, barely pressing, not really knowing what to say though she chances a look to the side, grasping the sweetness of his features, the fondness she imagines to be there.
“i told you i was there if you needed anything, i meant that.”
she’s so fucking good, the notion grips him in a second, the realization like cold water being dumped on him. he has known she was too good but now he realizes how good that is, so sweet she makes his teeth ache, his heart hurt in the most delicious way.
“yeah but, i dunno, people say shit to say it sometimes, know what i mean ? but yeah, should’ve known ya was no liar, yer word is gold, ain’t it ?”
it barely registers, compress running on his bruised knuckles, blue eyes focus on her features, trying to catch and remember every movement, every shadow. she is beautiful, her face clean of make up, for him to admire, questions never ending on his tongue but enjoying the peace between them. he is not used to peace, he was made for war, raised to survive but not to live.
“yes but we are not like them, right ?” her voice is gentle, his gaze catching hers, only sincerity to find there, his smile matching hers. it is fond, knowing in a way, the distance between them so small it makes his stomach tighten. he thinks of her lips, of their taste, nearly lose himself in the idea of it before she goes back to his hand, her fingers strong but careful around his skin.
“nah, we ain’t.”
he likes that we, the way there is something he has in common with her, something good and positive. fezco likes to see himself like she does from time to time, to imagine living up to her expectations, to be the man she thinks he is.
there is gentleness in his heart, he has his mother’s heart his grandma used to say, something she spoke of with some fear, so he always remained conscious of it. but with lexi, with lexi it feels like something good, as if he had this kind heart just to give it to her, her palms the perfect cradle for it.
there’s a sigh at the corner of her lips, hands folding on her thighs, “all done, you’re not good as new but as ok as i can make you.”
fleeting smile on his lips, cerulean hues finding the softness of her features, something a little sad at the corner of her eyes. “good ‘nough for me. better than i would have done.”
he feels tension in the air, feels an urge to speak, to say something, to wipe the sadness away. he wants to give her a bit of bliss, the kind she makes him feel. “thank you, lexi, forreal. fucking glad to see ya too. been wanting t’make time for ya but uh, ya know.”
it feels like a success, the way she slightly slumps, shoulders relaxing and smile on her lips, “you’re very busy, i know that. you make plenty of time for me, it’s enough.”
shoulder bumps against hers, “glad i got my ass beat up so i could see ya.”
there’s a twinkling light in her eyes as she gasps in mock shock, “fezco ! don’t say that !” it softens, her shoulder bumping back against his, “next time, just invite me to eat an ice cream at your store.”
there, he feels it right there as her brown eyes find his, his heart in her palms, beating in her smile.