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It’s such a cliché that you end up at his doorstep like a kicked puppy again. You’re shivering from the cold, and it’s just a week later. When he opens the door, somehow, it feels like it’s been a lifetime instead.
“Hi,” you say, arms wrapped around yourself. The wind blows all around you, and a fat drop of rain falls on your cheek.
Erwin looks up. He says, “Come inside, quick.”
He doesn’t have to tell you twice. You get rid of your coat and go to wash your hands in the bathroom, and when you come back, you find him sitting in the living room. The lights are dimmed, the curtains drawn shut. You stand before him, and he reaches to pull you to his lap.
“Welcome,” he says.
“Hey,” you say, looking at his hands settling on the creases of your hips. You put yours on his shoulders, rubbing his skin over his shirt softly. “How have you been?”
“Fine, thank you. I’m glad to see you again.”
Your heart flutters. “Me too.”
Then he says your name in a way that makes you feel like he means your name and nothing else. It’s intense, and his entire attention is on you, and he commands yours to be on him. “What do you want?”
Rain is beating on the windows steadily. You close your eyes and focus on the sound, on the warm body beneath your fingers, on the tension between your shoulder blades. Your muscles are always tense at least a little, even when you’re taking care.
What do you want?
To feel okay, mostly. To know what you want. To understand the language of the beast occupying your skull, constantly whispering things.
You lean forward until you are hiding in the crook of his neck, sighing softly. He engulfs you in his arms. For a brief moment, everything in the world is okay.
What do you want?
To have someone care for you, because you never learned how to and now every time you try it, it feels like you’re fucking things up further. Someone to wake you up in the morning and dress you, wash your teeth, your face, your entire body. Someone that will tell you to smile when you see your housemates, your classmates, your teachers. Someone to take notes in class, someone to tell you to start working on your thesis, then someone who will tell you to take a break and go to the pub, to drink some (and no, do not take those pills with alcohol). Loosen up, here, listen to this music. Enjoy these shows, these books, but not those ones. This is how you make friends without scaring them. This is how to wrap your own wounds, this is how you nurse yourself.
“Answer me. Tell me what you want.”
“I’m jus’ tired.”
He hums, a deep sound that makes your whole body rumble. “Is that so?”
You nod.
He repositions you so you’re resting against his chest with both your legs on the same side, then he wraps your arms around you again, rocking you gently. Your eyes close, and you are suddenly small, so small.
“I’m sorry,” you whisper, caught between wanting to flee and dig deeper into his embrace until you’re invisible to the world outside; it hurts. It feels so good it hurts, like you’re not worthy of it, like you’re not allowed to want it.
He shushes you.
You don’t know how long you stay there, but the moment you feel yourself oscillating between the line of sleep and wakefulness, you force yourself to open your eyes.
Erwin squeezes you once. “Are you okay?”
You sigh softly, then press your mouth to the thin skin of his neck. “Yes.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes. I think I want you.”
There’s not much talking that follows. He pulls you up and kisses you until you’re breathless and then some more, hushing you gently, quietly when he feels the sobs coming. His tongue traces the trail from your neck to your breasts and his mouth latches on your nipples one by one, setting fire wherever he goes. You’re an entire forest and he’s the match thrown amidst. You’re the forest, the forest on fire, the forest fire. You’re the bystander watching yourself burn.
You choke on an inhale when he bites into the soft meat of your breast.
“I could eat you whole, and you wouldn’t even say anything.”
“I wouldn’t.”
His hands find their place between your legs when you’re finally shaking with want and you hold onto him for dear life then, trying not to come too soon because you’ve been touching yourself for the past week thinking of him and you don’t want to lose this moment so fast now that he’s actually here.
“Please,” you mutter, rolling your hips against his palm, “Please, please, please.”
“Please what, girl?”
The beast is going crazy. It’s banging on the walls of your skull, its screech painful, neverending. Please , you whisper once again. Maybe you just want it to stop. Please. Please, inside me. Then his two fingers enter you and you’re riding them. It’s a strange thing to be able to feel yourself from his touch.
“Easy now,” he mutters, his free hand wrapping tight around your waist. “Easy, girl.”
You nod, feeling the ache in your thighs. You move in for a kiss when you cum, but it’s too messy, more breathing and moaning into each other’s mouths than actually kissing. Your chin is wet with saliva. You don’t make a move to wipe it off.
“Good,” he says, slowly pulling his fingers out of you. “Keep your mouth open for me now.”
He pushes his fingers inside and you taste yourself on them until you can’t. You then find your way home back in the crook of his neck. The rain is still going strong.
“I’m still hungry.”
“Hungry?”
“I thought I wanted to have sex with you, but I did it, and I still have this God-shaped fucking hole in my gut. I want to tear everything to shreds.”
He brushes a strand of hair behind your ear, pulling you away from himself to search for something in your eyes. You don’t know what it is.
“Do you know how to drive?”
“I’m scared of it.”
“Scared?”
“I’m scared of everything.”
“Then I’ll do it.”
And he does. He drives both of you to the beach and it’s the smallest mercy that the rain has stopped halfway through the ride, and you leave the car to take a walk. The sea is calling out your name, pulling you in closer and closer until you take your shoes off and start walking ankle-deep in water. Erwin is right beside you, safely out of the reach of the waves, holding your shoes. Your heart fills up like a balloon in your chest, threatening to burst.
You realize your steps are getting faster and faster until you’ve suddenly fully broken into a run, tears streaming from your eyes. Everything hurts so good—the cold midnight air like icicles in your lungs, the screaming of your muscles, the burning cold sweat on your skin.
“Fuck!” you scream, shy at first, but definitely getting louder. “Fuck this! Fuck all of this!”
You keep running and running almost as if you’re trying to reach the end of the world. Past the buildings of the city and then the mountains you want to go, past the interstate highways that lead to the canyons, the red dust, the barren lands where no soul lives. You want to go past yourself, leave your body behind and disappear into thin air.
Your legs have other plans, though. You stumble and fall to the ground, knees first and then your palms, and you grab fistfuls of the wet sand as you try to regulate your breathing. You can’t even dwell on how embarrassing this is—you need to get some oxygen in your lungs now or you might just die. Breathe in. Breathe out. Breathe in and breathe out. In and out. In and out.
“Are you okay?”
Erwin is looming over you, an obscure figure in the dark except for his eyes, steel-blue under the moonlight.
“I—think something is stuck in my heel,” you wheeze, crawling to a nearby rock to sit down on it. “Something is—there’s something in my heel.”
Both of you look behind at the same time to see the trail of blood on the sand, black and intimidating.
“It hurts,” you mutter. “Fuck, it hurts.”
“Easy,” Erwin says, crouching down to take a look at it. He places your shoes down and puts your left foot on one knee, taking his phone out of his phone to turn on the flashlight. “It’s okay,” he says, “You’ll be fine.”
You sniffle, wiping your tears with the back of your hands. “O—okay.”
With a surprisingly gentle bedside manner he pulls out something from your heel, showing it to you. It’s the broken part of a beautiful, iridescent shell, and you snort, watching him throw it into the sea.
“Thank you,” you say.
“It’s okay. Come, walk with me.”
You take his hand and walk with him to the sea, holding onto him tightly as you wash your feet clean. When you’re done he takes you into his arms and carries you to his car, putting you down on the seat. Out of the first aid kit he takes out gauze and wraps your heel with it, then places a soft kiss on your knee.
“You will be fine,” he says, climbing into the driver’s seat.
Before you fall asleep, you realize the beast has been quiet for the past hour.