I don't even know...

Chapter 21

"Now, if you need anything, I'd be happy to help," the girl said, as she dropped the keys into Helia's outstretched palm. Flora had the sneaking suspicion that that was directed at Helia, and Helia only. She rolled eyes, "Okays, thanks," she said, practically shoving the girl out the room, taking the keys from Helia, and locking the door behind her.

Looking around, Flora saw that their room contained a bed, a couch, a bathroom, a window, and an awful painting by the door. Helia already made his way to the bathroom. She went to the bed and sat down, resting herself and her leg. She lifted the burnt fabric of her pants to examine the angry, burnt flesh beneath. She winced as the sight. And then Helia was before her, equipped with a water and a first aid kit. He cleaned and dressed her wound. And she let him. She watched him carefully, noticing that his hair had come completely loose of its ties, giving him an uncharacteristically wild look. When he had finished his ministrations, she quickly got up and walked to the window, to prove to him-and to herself-that she felt no pain. She heard him sigh-small, and tired. She fought the urge to comfort him. She listened to his footsteps, heard him turn the shower on.

She pulled the thin curtain back, looking out into the night, or what she assumed was early, early morning. She opened the window full and breathed in deep. The cool air clearing her tired, fuzzy head. She was supposed to be thinking of who could've betrayed them. She should've been thinking of her team, whether they had got away, whether they were alright. She should've been thinking of their next move. She should've been thinking of so many other things, instead…Instead she thought of Helia in the shower, of how they had to share this small room, of how she wanted to kiss him, and hold him, and run her fingers through his hair.
"The shower's free ..."
She turned around at the sound of his voice. He stood in just his pants, pale skin glistening. Her eyes immediately went to the scar on his side.
"Thanks," she all but choked out, inwardly begging him to put a shirt on. If it were possible, Helia had gotten more ripped. It took her more effort than she would like to admit to pull her gaze away from the tight muscles that made up his body.

She started toward the bathroom, grateful for a place to hide.
"What's that?" he asked, eyes narrowed at her.
"What's what?" she asked, stopping, narrowing her eyes back at him.
"That," he replied. She followed his gaze to the thing around the neck. The thing she idly toyed with. The thing she went back for.

Helia tried not to smile as Flora appraised his physique. He opened his mouth to taunt her but forgot his words when he noticed her playing with a pendent on her necklace. He had never noticed a necklace on her before. That's because she had never worn one before, he realized. The only jewellery she sported were the silver studs on her ears. Her fingers blocked the view of the pendent, but he caught the way it twinkled in the light. When he questioned her, she closed her fist around it, hiding it from him. He took a step toward her, she took a step back. He moved until, eventually, her back was against the wall. For the first time since he found her, there was nowhere for her escape to. Her eyes widen, wary of what he might do. He put his hand on her fist, gently prising her fingers off the pendent. The pendent fell back against her chest, small, and silver, and familiar. It was the owl he had given on their first anniversary.
"What's this?" With his free hand, he reached for the pendent, his other hand still holding hers.
"It's the gift you gave me on our-" she started, weakly.
"No, I know what it is. Why do you still have it?" he clarified, looking into her beautiful, beautiful eyes. When she didn't answer, he asked another question. One that didn't need an answer, but he asked it anyway.
"Is this what you went back for?"

Flora looked down, unable to meet his gaze. She nodded, ever so slightly. She suddenly couldn't speak. What was she going say, anyway? That it was too difficult to part with? That even though she tried she couldn't bear to let go of the one thing that reminded her of who she used to be? That, despite the things she said and did, she couldn't let go of him?
"Why?" he asked again, his voice different now-pleading, desperate.
Say it! Just tell him the truth, she screamed at herself. She forced herself to look up at him,
ready with another lie. But as soon as her eyes met his, everything she wanted to say came crashing down. She couldn't do it. In that moment, in that small moment, she realized that if she had died today, Helia would live thinking that the girl he loved, the he girl mourned more than once, didn't love him. She couldn't do that to him. He would live with that torment. It would kill him, and no one would know, and no one would help him. It would destroy him until the end of his days, and that destruction would be her fault. She couldn't do that to him. Not after everything else she'd done to him.

His dark eyes searched hers, waiting for her to speak.
"Because I couldn't let you go."
Her voice was barely a whisper. If he hadn't been so close, he wouldn't have heard her at all. Her words shook him. She still loved him. Even when she said she didn't. Even when he thought she didn't. He dropped the pendant, and braced his hand by her head, on the wall. He touched his forehead to hers. She closed her eyes, he followed suit. He felt so many things: hurt, frustration, relief, love, her. He breathed her in. She smelled of flowers, and sweat, and something else that made his blood hot. He squeezed her hand, waiting for her move. On cue, she placed her hand flat on his chest. He knew what was coming next. She was going to walk away, like she did every other time. He squeezed his eyes, savouring their closeness, waiting for her push him back. But, her hand slid down, slowly and carefully, stopping just short of his waistband. His eyes snapped opened, and he was looking right into eyes that were saying a million things. But mostly they were saying yes. And then his mouth was on hers, urgent, and fast.

Helia pulled his lips from hers, a small smile forming. He leaned forward again, his hand going behind her. She closed her eyes in anticipation, waiting for another one of his hot kisses. He took hold of her ponytail and slid the hairband down, letting it drop to the floor. She opened her eyes as he pulled backed, watching as her hair cascaded around her shoulders. She was so glad to be rid of that wretched ponytail. She hadn't realized how much she hated it until he ran his long fingers through her hair. She stood on her toes and kissed him, kissing away the loneliness and grief she had caused. He responded eagerly, melding her body to his. He lifted her up and she wrapped her legs around him, her fingers in his hair. She had missed him, missed this, so much so that she wanted nothing else but this; nothing else but him and her together in the way that their two souls needed to be. They somehow made it to the bed, leaving a trail of clothes behind them. It wasn't long before they were a tangle of limbs, and a mix of feelings, both old and new.

When Helia woke sometime in the morning, he thought he had had the most wonderful, painful dream. But then felt her in his arms, her hand on his chest-the way she always slept when she slept beside him. He placed a chaste kiss on the top of her head. Here in this strange hotel room, with all his questions still unanswered, with the fate of Linphea in their hands, he finally felt at home, with the girl he loved-the girl he'll always love-safe in his arms.